Page 21 of Never a Bride
“Might I ask your name, my lord?”
“Sir Alexander Thornton.”
“Please wait in the front parlor while I inquire, my lord.”
While Alex was seated on the low-backed settle, Lord Kent entered the front hall where two servants adjusted his cloak and handed him his hat. He stared into the parlor at Alex, who promptly rose to his feet and gave his best court bow.
“You are—?” said Lord Kent brusquely.
“Sir Alexander Thornton, my lord.”
“You are here to see Blythe?”
Why was Blythe the immediate assumption? “Yes, my lord.”
Kent sent one of the servants away with a message for Blythe. Then he leaned forward on his decorative cane, but still did not enter the room. “Your father was Viscount Thornton?”
“He was.”
“A good man.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“I hope your brother can do half as well. A pity he’s married.”
Alex felt the heat of anger rise in his face, but before he could decide on the best retort, Emmeline appeared at her father’s side and peered into the parlor.
Her eyes widened, and Alex thought that she paled a bit, as if she feared he was discussing her with her father. He calmed himself and managed a bow in her direction.
“Lady Emmeline.”
As she looked back and forth between the two of them, Lord Kent gave his elder daughter a nod as if she were a servant.
“Keep Thornton company until Blythe arrives. Mind you, he’s not to stay long. Lord Seabrook has asked to attend your sister today.”
Of course Lord Seabrook, the heir to a duchy, would be a far more fitting suitor than a mere knight, Alex thought with disdain.
The marquess left the mansion, followed by a trail of servants. A moment later, Alex and Emmeline were alone, though still in two separate rooms. She looked at the front door for a moment, but Alex saw not even wistfulness cross her features. She controlled every emotion—or thought she did. He began to wonder if only he could bring out her impulsiveness.
He was no longer shocked that her father used her to amuse her sister’s suitor; instead, he would take advantage of it. She was not wearing a ruff about her neck, and he could see the long line of her throat, the delicate width of her shoulders, the creamy skin that disappeared into the square neckline of her tan gown. Serviceable, plain garments, but they framed her uncovered auburn hair like a jewel.
“My lady.”
Emmeline barely controlled a shiver at the deep, smooth tone of Alex’s voice. She could not imagine what it would be like to be the sole recipient of his attention, to be the constant focus of a gaze so direct, so dark with a secret knowledge she didn’t possess.
She was tempted to leave him alone—especially after their evening together three nights before—but she could not be so rude. She had to sit with him like an elderly aunt, because her father had ordered it.
Lifting her chin, she entered the parlor and walked toward Alex. He had remained standing, and a shaft of sunlight from the high mullioned windows seemed to glow about him, reflecting off the shining emerald satins and brocades of his garments.
And then he smiled at her, and his teeth flashed like the diamond dangling from his ear. It was a knowing, secretive smile, and she knew that her blush must rival the hue of her hair.
She sat down opposite him on a cushioned bench before the hearth. “Good day, Sir Alexander.”
He shook his head as he settled his long arm on the back of the wooden settle. “I thought we had settled that issue. Call me Alex.”
“ ’Twould be highly improper, sir.” Goodness, now she evensoundedlike an elderly aunt!
“Improper? Nothing is improper between two friends. You did save my life the other night.”
