Free Miss Cheney's Charade by Emily Hendrickson Page B

trembling. Why he had chosen to take them up, she couldn’t imagine. If only he had not been the one to possess the Egyptian objects she longed to draw!
    Lady Amelia looked charming in apple green silk trimmed with peach rosebuds. Peach silk rosebuds wound through her fair hair. Emma envied her polish.
    When the gentlemen arrived, Emma observed that Lord Worcester glared at Lady Amelia and she returned a look perfectly as odious. What a dilemma.
    “We have met, I believe. Lady Amelia,” Lord Worcester drawled hatefully, most unlike his previous charming self.
    “Edward, you have known me since I was in pigtails and you in short coats. Don’t you come over the lordly lord with me. I know you far too well,” Amelia replied with a snap.
    His lordship looked annoyed, but said nothing to this accusation. He offered his arm, which Amelia accepted with good grace.
    Mr. and Mrs. Cheney elected to travel in their own coach, having brought Mrs. Bascomb and the widowed Lady Hamley along at their expense.
    Lady Amelia settled opposite Lord Worcester while Emma sat next to her and watched Sir Peter sit opposite herself.
    “I understand you had an unrolling of a mummy at your home this past Monday,” Lady Amelia said with a nod to Sir Peter.
    Emma almost gasped. Had it only been last Monday? Today was Thursday, and it certainly seemed more like a month than a few days.
    “That is true. It proved most successful.”
    Lord Worcester peered out of the window and exclaimed, “Look at the carriages! I vow we will be fortunate if we ever make it.”
    Emma looked to Sir Peter and decided that if the circumstances were different, she would not mind in the least being shut in a carriage with him.
    But she was more or less trapped in her deceit. How agonizing to desire to record those priceless antiquities and yet also be drawn to the man who owned them, and who would no doubt be scandalized at her charade. Could she, dare she continue with her deception? She knew she ought to halt her subterfuge. There were many reasons for sanity to reign—her reputation, to mention one. Yet—and she turned a thoughtful gaze on Sir Peter—she would, she must risk all just to be near him for a little longer. Whatever happened, she would have this.
    And of course she wished to please his aunt, she reminded herself in an effort to add to the outrageous justification of her acts. As if that truly was sufficient.
     

Chapter Five
     
    In spite of the throng of carriages the coachman soon worked his way into the line of vehicles crossing Westminster Bridge to Vauxhall Gardens.
    Emma solved the dilemma of not looking at Sir Peter by admiring the interior of the coach. Dark brown leather panels were offset by beige silk curtains. The seats and squabs were the softest brown velvet and most comfortable. In fact, it was by far the nicest coach Emma had ever had the good fortune to ride in, even if one of the occupants made her decidedly uneasy.
    At last the coach halted and the steps were let down. Sir Peter assisted Emma from the coach rather than allowing the groom to help her. She was surprised at that, giving him a quizzical look.
    However, he had sent the groom ahead to purchase the tickets and took charge of those when the fellow returned. Emma’s parents and guests arrived before too long. Within less time than any of them could have believed, they were entering the Gardens and strolling along the Great Walk.
    Since the Cheneys wished to stroll along at a slower pace, arrangements were made to meet later for supper.
    Emma had longed to come to this fascinating place for some time, but her parents had thought of one excuse after another. Now that she was actually here, she felt a rush of pleasure. As much as Sir Peter unnerved her, she would ever be grateful that he was responsible for her visit.
    She attended to his explanation of the plan of the Gardens with one ear while looking about her with undisguised delight.
    “The Italian Walk is off to the