CLAYTON TOOK EMMA’S hand and led her out of the parlor. They ran into Jamie as he walked back through the front door. “I’m the search party.”
Emma laughed. “We’re coming.”
Clayton assisted her into the carriage and then climbed in after her. The others had gone on ahead, so it was just the four of them. Clayton sat next to Emma and smiled as he took hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips.
As the carriage moved, Jamie leaned forward. “What happened with Rose?”
Clayton chuckled. “I spoke with Andrew earlier today. He owed me a favor.”
Sophie grinned. “Yes, I’m sure it was a huge imposition for him to escort a beautiful woman to a ball.”
“And keep her busy for the duration,” Clayton whispered.
Emma’s head whipped up. “Seriously?”
“Yes, sweet.” Clayton kissed her palm again.
Emma’s heart soared and she melted against him with a sigh.
* * *
Arriving at the Paxton Mansion faster than originally expected, Sophie and Emma were in awe as they drove up the driveway toward the house. The large brick home loomed atop a large hill, in the exclusive Allison Hill area of Harrisburg. Four white columns formed a welcoming portico, and a porch covered two sides of the home. The home and outbuildings sat on a hundred and forty acres, and had sweeping views of the Susquehanna River and Blue Mountains.
“Have you never been here, Sophie?” Emma asked.
Sophie shook her head. “I’ve never been invited.”
The carriage came to a stop and Clayton jumped out first, followed by Jamie. As Emma gripped Clayton’s hand, she took a moment to take in the scene before her. His gentle squeeze brought her focus back to him, and she caught his smile as he lifted her off the step and placed her hand into the crook of his elbow.
“This is amazing, Clay,” Emma whispered.
He leaned down with a smile. “Yes, quite.”
Emma glanced back at Sophie and then let Clayton lead her up the stairs of the porch and through the front door. The large crowd in the foyer swallowed them, and the guests made their way slowly through the receiving line. Emma saw that Christine and the Wades had arrived just moments before; they were just ahead of her party in the line.
Dr. Stephen Paxton was a surgeon at the hospital based just outside of Harrisburg. He was at the head of the receiving line, and seemed to linger a little longer than etiquette would deem appropriate when Christine reached him. He held her hand perhaps a little too long and stared at her just a little too deeply. “You are beautiful.”
Christine blushed. “Thank you, Dr. Paxton.”
“Stephen, please.”
Emma giggled quietly, especially when one of the ladies behind them cleared her throat, prompting Stephen to break contact with Christine. Emma squeezed her sister’s elbow and whispered, “Do I see a love match?”
Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Christine thinks he’s just being polite.”
Emma grinned. “How long do you think it’ll take him to make his move?”
Sophie shrugged. “Who knows? I’m still shocked by how oblivious Christine is to the whole thing, but I have a feeling he won’t wait for her to figure it out.”
“Ladies,” Jamie admonished in a whisper.
Emma was overwhelmed with the sights and sounds of the nineteenth-century ball. Little nuances of light and sound that could so easily be missed. Tonight she didn’t want to miss a thing. Aware of Clayton’s hand possessively on her back, she leaned into it more than once as they waded through the line.
After they had introduced themselves to their host, Clayton gently took hold of Emma’s elbow and led her into the ballroom. Emma gasped—again. Clayton smiled down at her and Sophie took hold of her sister’s hand. “Isn’t it magnificent?”
“Yes,” Emma whispered.
Exquisite fabrics and colors adorned the nineteenth-century ladies, while the men were either in uniform or formal black. Lit sconces lined the walls, along with strategically placed candelabras on the piano and buffet tables. The scent of fresh flowers mingled with the harvest décor, and the room was a mix of opulence and comfort Emma could have never imagined.
“Let’s find a table,” Clayton suggested and pulled the group through the crush.
Christine’s mother took the seat closest to the window and smiled up at them. “I’m going to sit things out tonight, I think.”
“Are you certain, Mama?” Christine asked.
“Yes, dear. I’m happy to watch you young people enjoy yourselves.”
Sophie sat next to Miriam and patted her hand. “Well, I can’t dance worth a lick, Miriam, so I’ll sit with you, if that’s all right.”
Emma chuckled. “That’s an understatement, don’t you think?”
“We’ll just tell people you’re sitting it out because you’re pregnant,” Jamie whispered.
Sophie grinned. “Thank you.”
The musicians started to play “Les Lanciers,” and Clayton pulled Emma onto the floor for a Lancers Quadrille. He assumed, of course, that she could dance, because what nineteenth-century woman couldn’t?
This was an area Emma excelled in, and even though her expertise was not in these types of dances, she had learned them all at one point in her training, and could fake it if necessary.
Emma saw Rose corner Jamie by the refreshment table, and by the frown on Jamie’s face, he didn’t seem pleased by whatever it was she was saying. As the song ended, Clayton led Emma from the dance floor and she guided him towards Jamie.
They arrived to see Rose lay her hand on Jamie’s arm. “Bless your heart. I would love a glass of champagne.
Jamie pulled away from her and handed her a glass then excused himself. “I promised Mrs. Simmonds a glass of champagne.”
Andrew showed up a few seconds later and apologized profusely. “Forgive me, Miss Johnson for my inattention. I was pulled away by an old friend. It won’t happen again.”
Rose wrinkled her nose and didn’t comment.
* * *
Clayton escorted Emma onto the dance floor one more time, and when the song was over, he went to find champagne for them. On his way back from the refreshment room, Rose cornered him. He scowled. He was going to have to have a conversation with Andrew.
“Clayton, darlin’. I didn’t think I would ever get you alone.”
“You don’t have me alone, Rose.” He moved to walk away. “I must get back to Emma.”
Rose scowled. “Emma, Emma, Emma,” she snapped.
Clayton rolled his eyes. “I’ll speak with you later, Rose.”
She grabbed his arm. “Clayton, wait. I need to speak with you about Timmy. He gave me a message just before he died.”
“And you’re telling me now? Here? You’ve had plenty of time to tell me before tonight. Why now?”
“Clay,” she whined.
He turned slowly to face her. “What did he say, Rose?”
“Let’s just step in here, and I’ll tell you.” She pulled him inside one of the side rooms that appeared to be a library of sorts.
Clayton shifted, his senses on alert. “What’s the message, Rose?”
He didn’t want to be in a private room with this woman. He didn’t want to be in a private room with any woman other than Emma.
Rose indicated one of the chairs in the small office. “Sit, Clayton, this might take a little bit of time.”
He shook his head. “I’d prefer to stand, thank you.”
“You just have to make everything difficult, don’t you, Clayton? And to think, we’ve always seen you as the amiable one.” Rose stroked her hand down his chest.
“Rose, do you have something to say, or are you trying to keep me away from Emma?”
Just then, Andrew walked through the door. “Well, there you are, Miss Johnson. I thought I’d lost you.”
“Apparently not,” Rose hissed slightly under her breath.
“Some soldier you are,” Clayton whispered for his ears only.
“Slippery like an eel, this one,” Andrew retorted.
Andrew escorted Rose out the door and back into the ballroom. Clayton returned to Emma and pulled her out on the dance floor for a waltz. He wanted any excuse to get her into his arms and hold her close.
Emma frowned up at him. “Is everything all right?”
He pulled her a little closer. “Rose just tried to corner me in the library. She said she needed to pass on a message from Tim, but I think that was a lie.”
Emma shuddered. “She’s up to something. I don’t know what, but there’s something not right about her.”
“I think she’s simply mourning the loss of her brother.”
“Watch her.” Emma frowned. “I’d hate to have to hurt the perfect little princess. But, I swear, if she continues to touch you as though she’s entitled to, I may just have to.”
Clayton chuckled. “So violent, sweet.”
She smiled innocently as he continued to lead her around the dance floor.
When the dance was over, Clayton led Emma back to Sophie. He kissed Emma on the cheek, and made his way to the terrace outside to join Jamie, Michael, and Andrew for a cigar.
Sophie squeezed her hand. “You looked so good out there, sis. I’m envious.”
“Thanks.” Emma took a sip of champagne. “I’ve decided you are going to learn to dance, Sophie. Christine and I will help you, right, Christine?”
“Absolutely,” Christine answered.
Sophie shook her head. “I’m not teachable.”
Emma grinned. “I haven’t taught you yet.”
Sophie waved her hand dismissively. “You won’t be able to, either. I guarantee it.”
“Thanks Men’s Wearhouse,” Emma retorted.
Sophie giggled and then explained to Christine about advertising taglines. Emma glanced around the room and realized someone was missing. “Where’s Rose?”
Christine shrugged. “We don’t know. She said she was going to the ladies’ sitting room, but hasn’t returned.”
Emma scowled. “There is something off with that woman.”
“Yes, I agree,” Sophie said.
Rose magically appeared seconds before the men returned, which sparked even more distrust in Emma. She didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, as Clayton pulled her out for yet another dance.
“Isn’t there a rule about dancing with the same woman three times in a row?”
“Is there? I invite anyone to try and enforce it,” he said in warning. “How’s your ankle?”
Emma narrowed her eyes. “You ask me now, after three dances?”
Clayton grimaced and paused. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Is it too much?”
Emma pushed him back into the waltz. “I’m fine. I would have told you if I wasn’t.”
The dance ended sooner than Emma would have liked, and she reluctantly let Clayton lead her back to the table. Sophie raised an eyebrow as she sat down.
Emma smiled. “What?”
“There are several other men who would like to dance with you.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “There are?”
Sophie nodded.
“Then why haven’t they asked me?”
Sophie giggled. “Every time they get close, Clayton scowls at them and they scurry away.”
“Shut up,” Emma whispered.
Sophie turned and patted Jamie’s knee. “Jamie, watch Clayton. See that soldier? He’s been eyeing Emma all night. I think he’s going to ask her to dance. Let’s see what happens.”
The young soldier had almost reached the group, when Clayton made a possessive move toward Emma and gave him a look of warning. The soldier turned on his heel and walked the other way. Jamie chuckled.
“Clayton,” Emma admonished.
“Yes, sweet?” he asked innocently.
Emma rolled her eyes. Sophie turned it into a game. Three within ten minutes, and now a fourth approached.
“He doesn’t look as young, maybe he’ll get through,” Jamie said.
“Not a chance,” Sophie said.
Jamie grinned. “I bet you a fifteen-minute foot rub, he won’t be intimidated.”
Sophie shook his hand. “You’re on.”
Emma scowled at her sister as the soldier approached. Handsome, with dark hair and a very serious mustache, he seemed confident as he caught Emma’s eye. Clayton made his move and it didn’t even faze him. He stopped before Emma and bowed. “Ma’am, would you honor me with the next dance?”
Emma wasn’t sure what to do, so she looked at her sister, and then at Clayton. She could tell that Clayton was not happy, but he couldn’t object. He had to let her go. Emma nodded and then stood and followed the man onto the floor.
“Clayton, sit. She’ll be fine.” Sophie laughed at his obvious discomfort.
Clayton wouldn’t sit though. He kept his eyes on her the entire dance, pacing his way around the outer reaches of the dance floor. Emma looked up at her partner and smiled politely as he cleared his throat. “My name is Lieutenant Gregory Payne.”
“Nice to meet you, sir.” Emma glanced at Clayton and then back at her partner. “My name is Emma Wellington.”
“Are you new to the area, Miss Wellington?”
Emma nodded. “Yes.”
“Where do you come from, originally?”
“Why?”
“How is it you know Clayton Madden?”
She shivered at his tone. “That seems like an awfully personal question, sir.”
“Forgive me.”
She felt more and more uncomfortable as the dance went on. He would pull her closer and she would attempt to push him away, but he would keep trying. When the song ended, they were on the opposite side of the ballroom from her family. She curtsied to him and he bowed, then immediately took her elbow, and began to lead her away. “Sir, I should get back to my family.”
Gregory paused. “I thought you might want some punch before we returned.”
Emma shook her head. “No, thank you. I would like to get back to my party.”
“Of course.” He gripped her arm and led her the wrong way again.
“Let go of me.” Emma couldn’t stop the shiver when she tried to pull away from him, but he tightened his grip. “Get your filthy hands off me,” she hissed.
Gregory’s expression grew cold, and Emma swallowed. He said nothing as he dragged her into a secluded alcove.
“What are you doing?” Emma squealed.
“Shut your mouth,” he snapped.
“I’ll scream.”
He yanked her toward him and glared down at her. “You will do nothing of the sort.”
“Unhand her,” Clayton ordered from behind them.
Emma sighed in relief at the feel of Clayton’s hand on her lower back. She leaned into him and tried to tug her arm away from Gregory. He didn’t release her right away, and when Clayton inserted his body between the two of them, Emma whimpered when Gregory’s hand tightened.
Clayton grasped Gregory’s wrist and did something… she didn’t know what… but Gregory groaned and his hold was broken.
Clayton reached behind his back and pushed Emma gently away without breaking eye contact with Gregory. “I said unhand her.”
Gregory rubbed his wrist and scowled. “We were simply getting punch.”
“If you come near her again, I’ll kill you.” Clayton grabbed the front of his shirt. “Do you hear me?”
The man nodded and then was gone.
“Are you all right?” Clayton asked in concern.
“I think so.” Emma struggled to catch her breath. “I told him I wanted to go back to you, but then he pulled me in here. All through the dance he kept asking me all these personal questions and… it made my skin crawl.”
Clayton kissed her hand. “You’re safe now.”
“Any idea what he wanted?”
Clayton shook his head. “There’s something strange going on, and I think we should get you home.”
Emma nodded. “I’m fine with that. As long as you’ll still stay once we get home. I feel as though we haven’t gotten to talk all night. Or other things.”
Clayton chuckled. “What other things?”
Emma smiled up at him and winked.
Clayton directed Emma back to the group. Rose pursed her lips as they arrived at the table. “I do declare, Miss Wellington, you are as white as a ghost.”
“I’m fine, Miss Johnson. Thank you.”
Rose continued to fuss over Emma, and Clayton pulled Jamie aside. Jamie agreed it would be best to return home, so with the promise from Andrew to keep Rose occupied, Jamie and Clayton gathered up the girls’ cloaks and gloves and ushered them out to await the carriage.
Emma shifted from foot to foot as they waited for their ride. Clayton wrapped his arm around her and kissed her temple. “Cold, sweetheart?”
“Freezing.” He removed his heavy coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. Emma sighed. “Thank you. Much better.”
The carriage inched forward and pulled up in front of them just as rain began to fall. Once they were on their way, Emma sank further into Clayton’s side.
“Are you all right, Em?” Sophie asked.
“Yes, just tired. Something’s off, and I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’m too tired to think right now.”
Sophie leaned forward. “Em? Did you drink too much?”
Emma snorted. “Four glasses of champagne is not too much.”
Clayton glanced down at her. “Four?”
Emma shrugged. “I couldn’t find the whiskey.”
Sophie sighed. “Your humor abounds, I see.”
Emma smiled. “My ankle was bothering me, and I liked the champagne. I’m not drunk. Just kind of tired.”
Jamie frowned. “Still four glasses over several hours shouldn’t make you so tired.”
Emma shifted slightly. “Maybe it was the fifth that did me in.”
“Emma!” Sophie slapped her palm to her forehead.
Emma giggled then hiccupped. “Come to think of it, it was kind of cloudy. I only took one sip… it tasted weird. Kind of like the tea Gwen gave me.”
“Laudanum.” Clayton filled in the blanks, then lifted Emma’s chin. “Who gave you the fifth glass?”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “Isn’t that like an opiate?”
Sophie squeezed her knee. “Emma, focus. Who gave you the last glass of champagne?”
Emma yawned and then mumbled, “Rose.”