Page 32 of The Viscount's Unwanted Bride
Amelia’s eyes widened and she extricated her necklace from George’s chubby little hands. “I like that idea.”
“I thought you might.” Kate had long since realized that the less conventional things were, the more her sister-in-law tended to enjoy them.
Margaret backed away from Kate to let her see her reflection clearly in the mirror. “Would you like anything else done, my lady?”
Kate studied herself. The braid crested her forehead like a tiara, especially with the jeweled pin in place, and curls fell around the sides of her face in a nod to the current style. “No, thank you. I believe I’m ready to dress.”
Margaret went to the wardrobe. “Which gown would you like to wear?”
“The buttery yellow one with green trim.” Yellow didn’t always flatter Kate, but this particular pale shade looked nice with her eyes, and the hints of green complemented her coloring. It would do well for the opera.
Margaret pulled the gown out and helped Kate into it. Amelia stood quietly as Margaret buttoned the back of the dress. Kate could tell she was deep in thought, but it was impossible to know whether she was considering the options available to Kate or plotting how to introduce her fictional heroine to a handsome pirate.
Once Kate was dressed, she added a simple necklace to make her neck feel less bare, thanked Margaret, and walked with Amelia and George down the stairs to the foyer, where Andrew and Lady Drake were waiting.
Kate’s lips twitched with satisfaction when she realized that her mother was wearing a gown in colors Kate had recommended for her. Lady Drake thought the deep blue wastoo much for a woman of her age, but Kate had assured her that she would look lovely in it, and she did.
Although she knew it was unlikely—her mother had never shown any interest in remarrying—Kate lived in hope that she would meet a nice gentleman who could keep her company as she aged. She was too young to be alone, and once Kate was married, both of Lady Drake’s children would have partners and families of their own.
Andrew glanced up. “Blackwell has just arrived.”
Sure enough, there was a knock on the door, and Boden answered.
Andrew sidled closer to her. “It isn’t too late for me to send him on his way.”
“I know, but I want to find out whether we’re compatible.” After all, she’d thought they might be before everything had gone wrong. Lord Blackwell was resistant to marriage, but Andrew had been, too, and now he was ridiculously happy. The same thing could happen for them.
Boden turned. “Lord Blackwell is here for Lady Drake and Lady Katherine.”
The door opened to reveal the viscount in a stark black suit that emphasized the sharp planes of his face.
He dipped his head respectfully. “Lord Longley. My ladies. A pleasure to see you all.”
“Blackwell.” Andrew nodded in return. “I expect my sister to be brought home unharmed.”
Blackwell’s lips thinned. “She will be.”
Seeing the need to smooth things over, Kate glided across to him and smiled. “You look very debonair this evening, my lord.”
His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “And you are beautiful, as always.”
It was interesting how easily those words had rolled off his tongue. Perhaps he’d been charming once upon a time.
“Shall we be on our way?” she suggested, eager to get away from Andrew’s simmering dislike. Rationally, her brother knew that Lord Blackwell hadn’t done anything wrong, but he was protective of her, and it showed.
Lord Blackwell escorted Kate and Lady Drake out to his carriage, and they drove through the crisp night air to the opera house.
The lower portion of the opera house had already filled, so there were only a handful of people around as Lord Blackwell helped both ladies down from the carriage. He took Kate’s arm and together they passed through the entrance and climbed the stairs.
“I have a private box for the evening, so we won’t be bothered,” he said, stopping outside a door and gesturing for Kate to enter.
There were several chairs, and she claimed one right in the center. Her mother sat to her left, and Lord Blackwell sat to her right. A hum of conversation traveled up from below, and she gazed around at the other boxes, making eye contact with a couple of people who were doing the same thing.
Something brushed her thigh, and she jolted, surprised when she realized that Blackwell’s leg had bumped her own. Awareness skittered through her, and her belly flipped over.
She hadn’t been this close to him before—at least, not for any length of time. He was a large man, so it stood to reason that he occupied quite a lot of space. She stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye.
While not classically handsome, he was far from plain. There was something about the slope of his nose and the contours of his mouth that made her itch to grab a pencil and start sketching him. He would be an intriguing subject. Especially with how the light and dark constantly played over his features. It would be a study in contrast.
