Page 27 of His Scandal
Chapter 8
Alex was staring at her, and his expression seemed to soften.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said in a low voice.
He wasn’t looking at the garden, which made Emmeline uncomfortable. Bother her face for so easily blushing.
“It is lovely and so peaceful,” she replied cautiously. “It was good of you to invite Blythe. As you can see, she already feels at home here.”
Alex glanced briefly to where small colorful pavilions had been set up to give the ladies shade. But again his gaze returned to her, and there was a moment of silence that seemed too long.
“Aye, your sister has friends everywhere, does she not?”
Emmeline smiled. “Sometimes it seems that way.”
“But not you.”
Her amusement died as she glanced at him sharply, but he was not mocking her, just studying her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. “I have friends.”
“Yes, but well chosen and small in number, I think. No, do not ruffle your feathers, young swan. Sometimes I think we have much in common.”
“Young swan?” was all she could manage, as she tried to imagine having anything in common with such a scandalous man.
“The beginnings of a poem, I think,” he said.
He suddenly grinned at her in that carefree manner so much a part of him. It was as if another man had appeared for a moment, then was gone. She scoffed at herself for such fanciful notions.
“Oh, not another poem, Sir Alexander.”
“I told you that words always toss about in my mind.” He leaned over and suddenly chucked her under the chin. “Do call me Alex.”
With a tap of his heels, he set his horse trotting away from her.
The reaction of the other guests to his arrival was not what she would have expected. As usual there were young girls who fanned themselves a bit too much when he bent over their hands, but there were also barely tolerant stares. As she rode closer, Emmeline even heard Lady Morley thanking him for inviting the Prescott sisters. It was then that she realized Alex himself had invitedthem, without informing their hostess.
She wished she could disappear, but suddenly a man rode up beside her, and slowed his horse’s pace to match hers.
“Lady Emmeline,” he said respectfully, in a deep voice that was almost a growl.
She smiled, knowing he seemed familiar. “Sir, have we been introduced?”
“I am Sir Edmund Blackwell, a friend of Alex’s.” He returned her smile, and suddenly the sheer size and breadth of him seemed less menacing. He was not the most handsome man she’d ever seen, but there was a friendliness in his face that put her at ease.
“Ah yes,” she replied, “I think I saw you with him at a party a fortnight or so ago.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Come, allow me to escort you to the gathering. And perhaps you could introduce me to your sister.”
Riding up with Sir Edmund, she politely smiled at all in attendance, then dismounted to stand beside her sister. As grooms led the horses away to pasture, Alex’s friend remained at her side, obviously waiting.
Emmeline touched Blythe’s arm. “Blythe, allow me to present a friend of Sir Alexander. Sir Edmund Blackwell, this is my sister, Lady Blythe.”
Sir Edmund’s courtly bow rivaled that of his friend. Perhaps Alex would be foiled by yet another man dancing attendance on Blythe. WhenEmmeline glanced at Alex, his eyes were narrowed as he studied his friend.
Little benches and stools were scattered about the lawn for the ladies’ ease of sitting with their wide gowns. The men either stood or sprawled on blankets. The first course of their meal, an assortment of fine white breads, was served on little plates, and wine liberally refilled in every goblet. Emmeline sat on a bench beside her sister, who seemed wide-eyed with excitement as she ate.
Blythe delicately nibbled a pastry and leaned nearer to Emmeline. “What do you think of Alex’s friend?”
“Dearest, we’ve only just met.”
