Emma turned a sparkling gaze on Dawn. ‘Oh, you must remember Jack. He is Lance’s best friend. Many years ago we went for a drive with him in Hyde Park and your stepmother came, too.’
‘Yes, I do remember him,’ Dawn said mildly. ‘Thank you for the invitation, but I won’t stay for dinner.’
The Earl abandoned the ladies to go with his son, dragging on his hand to make him play chase. Lance dodged to and fro to escape the puppies and Bernard jumping up at him, leaving his wife to attempt to persuade her friend to dine with them later. Emma clasped Dawn’s fingers, idle on the table.
‘Why won’t you stay?’ Emma frowned. ‘If you’d like to change, I have a gown for you to wear, or, if you’d sooner go home first to choose a dress, of course you’re welcome to take a carriage.’
‘I know...thank you...’ Dawn said, patting her friend’s hand to calm her anxiety. ‘It is not that.’
‘I know you don’t have another dinner appointment,’ Emma said bluntly.
‘No...but...’
‘But you don’t want to see Jack again,’ Emma guessed. ‘I know that you like my sister and brother-in-law, so they’re not putting you off staying to dine. Are you not quite over Jack?’
‘Of course I am over him, my dear!’ Dawn protested on a huff of a laugh.
‘Of course you must be; you’ve since been married to a nice gentleman and five years have passed since you saw Jack Valance,’ Emma said.
‘Closer to six,’ Dawn murmured.
‘Aha! So you’re not quite as over him as you’d have me believe, are you?’
‘Will he bring his fiancée to meet you, do you think?’ Dawn teased.
‘Fiancée?’ Emma echoed in disbelief.
‘I already knew he’d returned. I heard some ladies gossiping about him when I was at the library earlier in the week. Apparently he has returned to marry a Miss Sarah Snow.’
‘Why did you not say sooner?’ Emma gasped.
‘If I’d mentioned him, I knew you’d think what you are thinking.’ Dawn shrugged. ‘My liking him was all long ago. Honestly, Em, I am over him and have other, more important things on my mind. One of which is my stepdaughter. My letter to Eleanor is quite rudely overdue, as is my visit. I must immediately dash off a reply to her and get it in the post, then prepare for a trip.’
‘So you’re abandoning me and going off to Essex for a sojourn?’ Emma teased in return.
‘Only for a fortnight!’ Dawn protested. ‘It makes me feel quite ancient to mention my step-granddaughter...and another child soon due. Lily is a little dear...up on her feet now. I love to take her presents. Would you like to come shopping tomorrow in Regent Street and help me choose some things for her?’
‘I would love to...’ Emma frowned regretfully. ‘But walking round the shops will fag me out and I’ll spoil your enjoyment.’ She paused. ‘I wonder whether Lance knows Jack’s getting betrothed? If he does, why did he not say?’ She shot her husband a glance just as he gave a hefty overarm throw, setting the puppies charging quite a distance after a large stick.
Dawn got to her feet. ‘Men tend to put little store on these things, Em. If he does know of it, he probably hasn’t thought to bring it up. I haven’t seen a notice gazetted yet.’ Dawn had been searching for one, too. As soon as she got home after hearing the gossip in the library she’d scoured the lists of announcements, but had seen none that mentioned Jack Valance. And then she’d scolded herself for having put herself to such trouble for a man who’d easily forgotten about her. ‘Now, I should get along and let you prepare for your guests.’
‘I wish you could stay a while longer...’ Emma wheedled.
‘I really must go. Polly will be grumpy if her efforts in the kitchen are spoiled.’ Dawn clucked her tongue. ‘She’s not the best of cooks, poor girl. But she tries hard and can dress hair very nicely.’ She chuckled at the memory of yesterday’s burnt pie. But Polly was a treasure to her, loyal and versatile, and that was of great help when one could only afford to employ a single servant.
‘Well, if you’re not going to get a good dinner that’s even more reason to stay,’ Emma said archly. ‘But... I understand.’ She gave her friend a rueful look. ‘If Jack brings his intended this evening, I’ll be sure to let you know all about her.’
‘And when I get back I will let you know all about my trip to Essex.’ Dawn assisted her friend in rising from her chair. Linking arms, they set off at a slow stroll towards the house. Dawn raised a hand in farewell to the Earl. He had his son in his arms and was on his way across the lawn to the flag-edged pond to show the boy the goldfish. He shifted Bernie in his grip to return her a farewell salute.
‘I’ve not heard of this Miss Sarah Snow or her family. Is she young...out this Season?’ Still Emma seemed absorbed in knowing more about Jack Valance’s plans.
‘I believe she keeps to herself and hasn’t been seen much. But she is pretty from what the ladies were saying. A redhead.’ Dawn hugged Emma closer. ‘She sounds like a wise young lady. Thank goodness we no longer have to attend those ghastly balls at Almack’s. I feel quite sorry for those poor girls being criticised as though they were a herd of prime fillies.’
‘I’ve asked Lance to bring me home some tattle, but he rarely does. He says it all passes over his head when he’s in his club. Not that he goes there much. I expect he might go more often now that Jack is home. They’ve been friends since school, but have hardly seen one another in years.’
Dawn thought back on those years, wondering where the time had flown to. Yet much had happened in her life: she’d been married, widowed and now had a family, none of whom were her blood relatives. The only one of those left to her was her papa.
‘Once my confinement is over we must sally forth and find out what the beau monde is up to,’ Emma announced, interrupting her friend’s pensiveness.
‘The beau monde will be much as it always was, my dear,’ Dawn returned. ‘You will discover nothing much more than who put their last shilling on the turn of a card and lost an estate and which husband was found in flagrante with his chum’s wife.’
‘You are a dreadful cynic, Dawn,’ Emma fondly chided.
‘Am I? I don’t mean to be. Perhaps life has made me grumpy.’
Emma hugged her friend. Indeed, Dawn had had some tough luck and words were of little comfort to somebody who had found contentment with a gentleman, if not love, and had settled for that consolation just to have it whipped away.
The following morning Dawn was up early to post a letter to her stepdaughter, belatedly accepting Eleanor’s invitation to visit. Her second child was soon due and Dawn guessed the expectant mother was becoming easily tired and would like some help looking after her boisterous little daughter.
The Reverend Peter Mansfield wasn’t a fellow given to lending a hand to his wife. In fact, Dawn had had to bite her tongue when she was there last time. The couple employed just two servants: a maid and an elderly cook. When the maid had been laid up with raging toothache the vicar had allowed Eleanor—in the early stages of her pregnancy—to sweep out the grate rather than do it himself. At the time Eleanor had said she didn’t mind, although Dawn had noticed a certain spark in her stepdaughter’s eye. Dawn had rolled up her own