Page 44 of His Scandal
Blythe managed to escape when Lord Seabrook asked her to dance. She shot a sympathetic smile at Emmeline and whirled away.
Emmeline was speechless. She watched her sister for a moment, then turned to Lord Willoughby, whose face now glowed a dull red.
“I muddled that, didn’t I?” he murmured, and shook his head in obvious disgust.
“I don’t understand what just happened.”
“Lady Emmeline, forgive me. This always happens. Whenever I try to impress a beautiful woman, I cannot think of a thing to say.”
“You had no problem conversing with me.”
“But you’re different, my lady. You’re easy to talk to, and you seem interested in what I have to say. A woman like your sister—why would she be interested in someone like me, when she hasLord Seabrook dancing attendance on her?”
Though Emmeline felt frustrated, she wasn’t going to let Lord Willoughby off this easily. He was too nice a man, and she wanted her sister to see that. There had to be something she could do.
When Alex finished a dance with Lady Morley, he escorted her to the benches, then turned to look for Emmeline again.
She was talking to a man.
Frowning, Alex walked slowly towards them, keeping to the shadows beneath the overhang of the trees. He eventually recognized Maxwell Willoughby, a decent fellow, if a bit shy. They were talking rather animatedly, then Emmeline laughed and shook her head in a fond way.
Had she finally found her next poet?
Alex folded his arms across his chest, and a wave of blackness enveloped his mind, a sudden surge of jealousy that took him totally unaware.
The women he usually surrounded himself with were but pale imitations of Emmeline’s vibrancy and intelligence, yet she remained ignorant of her own attributes. Now she was trying to replace one weak man with another, as if she didn’t deserve better.
And suddenly Alex knew he wanted better for her, that somehow he wanted her to move aheadwith her life, and leave her past mistakes behind. And he was just the man to show her the way.
Late that night, Emmeline stood behind Blythe and brushed out her hair. Usually a maidservant did the task, but Emmeline felt a need to be close to her sister. She knew it was out of guilt, but felt she could make it up to Blythe by introducing her to the perfect man. If only Lord Willoughby had cooperated.
In the mirror she watched Blythe’s eyes blink slowly, heavily. “It’s time for you to sleep,” she murmured.
Blythe shook her head and sat up straighter. “Oh no! My head is still buzzing with memories of our wonderful party. I would so like to be more a part of the preparations next time, so I can someday do what you do.”
Emmeline smiled. “That would be wonderful.” She completed a few more strokes, then asked, “So whom did you dance with this evening?”
She sighed. “So many men that I feel blessed! Lord Seabrook was especially generous with his time, and even Alex’s friend Sir Edmund showed that for such a big man, he is quite graceful.”
“I didn’t see you dance with Sir Edmund,” Emmeline said cautiously, trying not to frown.
“He didn’t arrive until late in the evening.”
“Oh. What about Lord Willoughby?”
“Who?” Blythe asked, once again blinking slowly.
“Lord Willoughby, the young man I introduced you to at the refreshment table.”
“Oh him! He seemed…nice, I guess. He didn’t ask me to dance.”
Emmeline already knew that, and she wanted to groan at the man’s shyness.
“But Alex did.”
When she heard his name, she accidentally pulled the brush too hard and Blythe gasped.
“Oh, dearest, forgive me!” she said, upset that her hands started to shake, that her mind immediately took her to the dark garden, and Alex’s arms around her, his mouth on hers. “What did Alex do?”
