A Proper Companion by Candice Hern Page A

various debaucheries
to spread through the grapevine of the ton . Emily began to
see that by denying nothing, the earl had implicitly encouraged
belief in the stories, thereby further enhancing his reputation as
a gamester, a womanizer, and a general rakehell.
    As he tended to be candid with his grandmother,
Emily could not help but notice that he avoided denying the story
of Lady Theale in the vaults of St. Paul's. Or was it Westminster
Abbey?
     
    * * *
     
    Robert had discovered Miss Townsend's company to be
as delightful as his grandmother's. He was pleased to note that she
was not shy of displaying her intelligence or erudition, and he
enjoyed frequent lively discussions with her on issues of politics
or literature. Their literary tastes differed widely—he preferred
the classics, while she was more fond of the modern poets— but they
did share a passion for Shakespeare, which had led to several
intense discussions of their favorite plays.
    With the exception of one notable mistress some
years back, Robert had never so enjoyed verbally sparring with a
woman. He generally had little interest in a woman's company
outside of the bedroom. But despite Miss Townsend's considerable
attractions, he found that his feelings for her were, for the most
part, extremely proper. Given their circumstances, there could
never be anything more between them, and so he had resolved to be
content with a chaste friendship.
    He wondered if Augusta would be at all understanding
of such a friendship. Good God, he had never realized how much his
life would change with his betrothal and marriage. Only a few weeks
had passed since his betrothal, and already he could feel the noose
tighten.
    After an initial reticence in his company, no doubt
due to her strict interpretation of her position. Miss Townsend had
gradually relaxed her guard. She now appeared quite at ease in his
presence. She still bristled whenever hints of matchmaking entered
the conversation, but Robert had so relentlessly teased her that
she now seemed almost acquiescent to the idea. Either that or she
had simply chosen to ignore him. He couldn't be sure. But it was
certain that she no longer voiced her objections. Robert took this
as a signal to proceed, and was still planning to introduce her to
some of his more respectable unmarried friends. It was the less
respectable ones who worried him. How, for example, was he to keep
Black Jack Raebum away from her?
    Robert was content to enjoy her company and
conversation for the moment, and to forget the potential evils of
London Society awaiting its new deliciously innocent victim. And to
forget what Augusta might have to say about his friendship with
Miss Townsend. Emily. He had begun to think of her as Emily, though
he had never requested permission to use her Christian name.
    During their many evenings together, Robert noted
that Emily spoke little of her own past, while she seemed
thoroughly diverted while he and his grandmother discussed their
more colorful histories.
    "So you see, Emily," the dowager said one evening as
the three of them lounged rather informally in the drawing room
after dinner, "Robert is actually a much more upstanding gentleman
than he pretends to be."
    "Grandmother!" Robert said. "Have a care for my
reputation."
    "It is true that I don't discount every tale that
comes my way," the dowager said to Emily. "He is no saint, thank
God."
    Robert placed his hand to his heart and quoted: "
'They say best men are molded out of faults. And for the most,
become much more the better for being a little bad.' "
    "I suspect," the dowager continued, ignoring Robert,
"that his primary motive in achieving such a black name for himself
is to rebel against his father's sober conservatism."
    "I am merely attempting to live up to the standards
set by you and Grandfather," Robert said lazily as he tossed back a
second brandy. "I have heard that wildness skips a generation."
    "My son Frederick," the dowager said to Emily,