Page 24 of Never a Bride
Emmeline told herself she wasnotaverse to the outing because of Alex himself. She knew she could control her proclivity to watch him; she would pretend she didn’t feel…unsettled when he was too near.
Yet when she stood in the arched doorway of her home and watched him ride his black gelding toward them, her breath caught, and her heart began a strange rhythm. Under the bright blue sky of an unusually warm spring day, he was so handsome in a sleeveless leather jerkin over a brilliant white shirt. His breeches were striped red and black, and he wore high black leather boots up to his knees. Why did she imagine that he smiled at her before he looked at Blythe?
Emmeline turned away and mounted her own horse sidesaddle. Then she allowed Blythe to ride in the lead at Alex’s side, while she rode behind with their groomsman. The roads were not so heavily traveled on the outskirts of London, where farmers’ fields still competed with the building of mansions along the Thames. Soon the houses were few, and they even rode past a village green with a duck pond in the center.
She tried to enjoy the lovely day and the serenity of the ride, but she kept straining to hear what Alex and Blythe were discussing. She only caught occasional words, while she watched his broad gestures and the uninhibited way he laughed. For a moment, she felt absurd and small-minded worrying about Blythe’s future with such a man.
But her sister was an innocent, and who knew what Alex’s true purposes were? He was a scoundrel, as everyone made sure to tell her.
Lady Morley’s home nestled between two small hills in the valley, and was made of a light, pretty stone, with high windows along every wall. It glittered like a jewel in the sun, and Emmeline shaded her eyes to see it better. Alex guided his horse along the gravel path that led to the rear of the estate.
As Emmeline rode up to Blythe’s side, she couldn’t help the little gasp of pleasure that escaped her. It reminded her of her father’s gardens in Kent, which she missed terribly. Lady Morley’s gardens were really a park, with orchards and a kitchen garden in the distance, and ornamental flowers and trees scattered around a fishpond. In the distance more ponds were connected by footbridges. And everywhere a green hue was returning to the earth, and primroses and daffodils gave new color.
It took Emmeline a moment to realize that Alex was speaking to her. With a start, she tore her gaze away from the peaceful garden, and saw that Blythe’s horse was trotting forward as she waved to friends. The groomsman followed her, as Emmeline had instructed him, and she was left behind with Alex.
Chapter 8
Alex was staring at her, and his expression almost 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. “’Twas 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 invited them, 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.
