Page 31 of If I Loved You
Her smile faded. “But you have not talked privately with Lord Kingsley,” she lamented. “Rather defeats the whole purpose.”
He considered her fallen expression, that his goal was not yet met.
“Generally frustrated by Lady Kingsley’s attempts to find husbands for her daughters.”
“The youngest, Lady Margaret, is very sweet,” she allowed. “Seems to get rather lost in the shuffle of two older sisters and an overbearing mother. Mayhap you should be speaking to Lady Kingsley about your bill. I daresay she wears pants under her gown. Lady Prudence as well.”
Zach stared at her. Christ, but she might have the right of it. A slow grin evolved, while ideas formed in his head. He’d gone so far out of his way to avoid Prudence Kingsley, he hadn’t considered that she might actually be useful.
Emma’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, but your mind is whirring. Are we changing tactics then?”
He nodded, and thus enlivened, he pounced on her, kissing her firmly, his hands on either side of her face. He stopped, pulled his mouth away, and was completely still while only inches separated their lips. He hadn’t meant to do that, was only so thankful for her reasoning it through better than he had.
Bloody hell. Lady Marston’s word screamed inside his head.
Dear Lord, you’re in love with her.
They remained motionless, his fingers still threaded over her ears, into her hair. She’d gasped at his kiss, stared now only at his chin, even as her own hand lifted and covered one of his. Her fingers sat not softly, but rather dug into the skin of his hand.
Zach breathed heavily, and then released her with excruciating slowness. His hands slid away from her while her fingernails lifted from the back of his hand and she dropped her arms.
“I am...sorry,” he murmured. She swallowed. He saw the very hard and strained motion of it travel from her jaw and down her slim neck.
She lifted her eyes, gave him a weak smile, and shook her head, in some attempt to relieve him of his guilt. Sadly, guilt was not at all the dominant emotion right now. Need. Want. Hunger. All of these raged through him.
Voices came to them, dispelling the breathless moment, pushing them further away. The young Lady Margaret stood justinside the open doors with a clearly displeased Lord Shirley, suggesting Lady Kingsley was hard at work even now.
Straightening, gnashing his teeth, Zach touched his hand to Emma’s elbow and led her back inside.
THEY SPENT THE NEXTfew hours in dedicated discussion with first, Lady Prudence and then Lady Kingsley. Emma was aware that initially, her presence was noted with something akin to disdain, and thus disregarded. The ladies themselves did not include her in conversation. She only participated when one of the gentlemen, sometimes the earl, invited her opinion. She was happy to remain on the sidelines initially, intent on learning about the earl’s bill before she opened her mouth on the subject. For his part, he laid out a persuasive case, she thought, though found herself more engaged by his demeanor, yet not any less so his argument; he was charming and practical, garnering support for the truth and the facts, only sparingly using emotion.
This Earl Lindsey, the one seeking backing for something he was clearly passionate about, presented the first occasion when she felt,he is very much like his father. And then she thought it odd, that she felt particularly proud of him, and to be with him, however tenuously.
And at the end of the evening, when they’d returned to the earl’s townhouse, and he had solicitously relieved her of the pretty velvet cape, he showed some annoyance again, one to which she’d been a witness previously. His brow crunched over his dark eyes, his cheeks twitching in such a way as to suggest clenchedteeth while he only stared at her. His butler, who now held both their cloaks slung over his arm, stood at attention, keeping his eyes away from the pair, while Emma questioned once more what she might have done to have wrought such displeasure from him. Or, had something untoward happened or been said to have taken away that fierce but mesmerizing look he’d bestowed upon her when he’d kissed her? The same look she’d caught upon him several times throughout the remainder of the evening, the one that indeed made her want to be in his arms. Or, had she misread what she’d perceived to be desire? She had only the earl’s countenance by which to judge.
Emma found herself presently wondering if he were once again thinking about their kiss, which all but begged the question, was he angry at himself for having kissed her, or upset that he’d not pursued it more thoroughly?
She knew her own answer to this quandary, but dared not speak it, even inside her own mind.
Chapter Eleven
EMMA DASHED DOWN THEstairs, her feet light in her luxurious silk slippers. Her smile was bright while her hand held out the skirt of her gown to better display it to dramatic effect. While last night she’d found humor when Mr. Pickering had lamented how long and arduous his own daughter’s preparations for a ball had been, Emma herself had just spent three hours being readied. Secretly, she’d found it exhausting and overdone, but would never have said that to the earl, as he’d made arrangements that her ensemble for this evening had been delivered with two maids to dress her, and her hair. Having withstood their ministrations for the past three hours—to beauteous effect, she was happy to admit—and knowing she would likely never again be dressed so fine, Emma stubbornly planned to milk every ounce of fun and frivolity out of this circumstance. And she hadn’t any intention of allowing the earl’s sometimes mercurial moods to rain on her proverbial parade.
The earl waited at the bottom of the stairs, resplendent in his all-black formal wear. His gaze warmed—indeed, thrilled—Emma even more so than her own finery did. Yet the sheer splendor of the gown enlivened her, and she danced around the earl when she reached the first floor.
“Isn’t it lovely? I’ve never worn a gown so beautiful.”
She was very pleased with the fabrics she and Mrs. Shabner had chosen, and as lovely as she had thought her gown to yesterday’s dinner, she imagined this one more fairy-tale like, with its round Circassian robe of pale blue crepe over a white satin slip, fringed full at the feet with blue satin tassels. A peasant's bodiceof blue silk, laced in the front with silver gave way to capped, Spanish slash sleeves, embellished with white crepe foldings, and finished at its edges with bands of silver. It was ridiculously gorgeous, and Emma had been happy to have her hair arranged to do it justice, and the spare ringlets left outside the bundled chignon, bounced near her cheeks and forehead as she danced around the earl.
He did not turn as she glided around him, but she caught his grin as she twice twirled around his front.
“Very lovely, indeed,” he said.
“I have also never had another person attend my hair,” she said, her smile infectious. “It’s terribly boring, just sitting there, but look at the darling curls they managed.” She stopped in front of him, and gave her head a little shake, making the curls move still.
The earl was kind enough to smile indulgently at her devotedness to her entire costume, but then he ruined everything with his next words.
“While this prancing is indeed graceful, Miss Ainsley, I fear I must ask, are you acquainted with the dances likely to be employed at tonight’s gala?”
