Free Miss Cheney's Charade by Emily Hendrickson Page A

not to this point recognized her as both George and Emma. She continued her debate for only a few moments, for her wish to attend proved a trifle stronger than her fears of detection.
    “Oh, Mama,” she cried softly, “do let us go. I have read of all the promised entertainments to be introduced and they sound prodigiously wonderful.”
    Mrs. Cheney, looking delightfully affected, nodded her agreement. “I have also read the accounts. You are most kind to offer this treat. Sir Peter.” A cat with a bowl of cream could not have looked more smug than when Mrs. Cheney exchanged a glance with Mrs. Bascomb.
    Sir Peter turned to the other gentlemen, his brows raised in inquiry.
    “I regret that I am otherwise occupied this evening,” announced the dandy Mr. Swinburne.
    “I should like to join you if I may,” Edward, Lord Worcester replied to the unspoken invitation.
    “Good enough, Worcester,” Sir Peter said by way of confirmation.
    “Emma knows a charming girl she might invite to join us if you wish,” Mrs. Cheney offered hesitantly. “Lady Amelia Littleton.”
    “Fine,” Sir Peter said with good humor.
    Lord Worcester had given a start at the mentioned name, but said nothing. Emma wondered at the expression on his face.
    “It will be a wonderful treat,” Emma declared, deciding that she would send a note to Sir Peter explaining that George would be unable to come in the morning. She didn’t wish to risk Sir Peter’s scrutiny immediately. And besides, if they remained at Vauxhall until the wee hours, she had no desire to  drag herself from her bed to stagger over to Sir Peter’s at some ungodly hour of the morning while pretending to be George, who must have had more sleep.
    The gentlemen departed, and at the urging of her dear mama, Emma went to her room to compose a note to Lady Amelia.
    Not having seen a great deal of Lady Amelia since their school days, Emma wasn’t certain how she would view a near-last-minute invitation. She needn’t have worried. Within a brief time an acceptance was returned with the footman to the affect that Lady Amelia had been longing to attend the grand opening and was most pleased to accept
    “Mind you, Emma, I was most displeased when you interrupted Sir Peter while he was here. Not good breeding, my girl,” Mrs. Cheney scolded when she recalled the event some hours later.
    “I am sorry. Mama,” Emma replied with all due humility. “I found the notion of George assisting someone like Sir Peter to be a bit humorous, you see.”
    “George is a sad scamp, I fear,” his loving but sorely tried mother replied.
    Emma hurried up to her room in order to dress for the evening. She thought scamp an odd appellation for the absent-minded and serious George, but would never argue with her mother.
    In a gown of silver gauze over pink taffeta, newly come from the mantuamakers. Emma felt quite festive. It was more stylish than most of her gowns, and she blessed her papa for insisting she visit the same mantuamaker who had made the gown from Lady Titheridge. So Emma had slipped out and been graced with a pretty gown that fortunately had not been claimed.
    For all that he remained silent, Mr. Cheney was most observant. He knew quality when he saw it, and he wanted the best for his Emma. He looked pleased with the results of her shopping trip.
    The three were joined by Lady Amelia some time before the gentlemen were to arrive. It had been arranged that they all meet early at the Cheney house before proceeding to the Vauxhall Gardens.
    Sir Peter had declared before he left, “It is bound to be crowded this evening. We had best start early, or the bridge will be impassible, and as to the wherries, well, they are a dangerous mode of transport in the event of a throng of people.”
    Emma had observed to herself that nothing could be half so dangerous as Sir Peter. The whipcord leanness of his handsome person frightened her even as it thrilled her. Now she awaited his appearance with