Page 30 of Never a Bride
Emmeline’s face was coolly fixed forward on her sister, who was laughing at something Edmund said. Alex couldn’t help studying Emmeline in her simple gown, so devoid of the ornamentation other women reveled in. Again, he wondered if she wanted everyone to see only the shining light that was Blythe.
“My lady, you have crushed this poet’s spirit.”
He saw her lips twitch, but she only glanced at him before turning her gaze back to the village in the distance. The dusk of shadows had begun to darken the fields, and the descending sun was at their backs.
“I could not crush such a monumental conceit as yours, Sir Alexander.”
“You challenged me to poetry, yet you made no comment about all my hard work.”
“But, sir, you have disappointed me. I thought you might be able to embrace subtlety, and it is such a cruel blow to be confronted with the truth.”
“What truth, my lady?” he asked, enjoying their sparring.
“That you are not even capable ofpretendingcompetence.”
He laughed. “One cannot master everything, Emmeline. At least I try.”
He could tell she stiffened by the way her horse tossed its head and pranced.
“And what do you mean by that?”
“I don’t settle for only the many things I’m good at. I take risks. I attempt to fly, which swans are usually good at. But perhaps you know something different. Does the Marquess of Kent clip his swans’ wings?”
Alex felt a strange sadness as Emmeline glared at him, blinking furiously.
Her fingers gripped the pommel as she leaned toward him. “Cease stretching your wings. My sister will not be treated as your next conquest.”
“I don’t wish to conquer her,” he said simply.
She didn’t answer, only tapped the horse’s flanks with her heels and rode ahead of him.
~oOo~
That evening, Emmeline’s father asked Blythe to sing again for his guests. Emmeline accompanied her on the spinet, and along with the gathered noblemen, watched how Blythe’s beauty seemed to glow. Part of what made her sister so special was that she had no idea how wonderful such innocence was; it was simply a part of her. With the paneled parlor as her backdrop, Blythe stood confidently.
Too confident, too fearless—and Emmeline had encouraged it.
The scene by the stream unfolded again in Emmeline’s mind, and she saw her fearless, curious sister in Alex Thornton’s arms.
Emmeline knew she herself was at fault, that she had failed to teach Blythe the proper caution. Was it too late? Would her sister only learn by taking one risk too many?
She couldn’t allow that to happen. And she needed a stronger approach. Alex was a scoundrel and she had to prove it, even if it meant cataloguing his every sin.
It was time to show him thatshewould be the winner in their battle—and she had the perfect plan.
Chapter 10
Emmeline had thought her plan to spy on Alex and record his behavior was brilliant—until it was time to carry it out. It took two days to even find an opportunity to sneak out of the manor.
The only people usually on the street were commoners, but it seemed too risky to dress as a maidservant, and be at the mercy of every passing man. When she thought of disguising herself as a boy, she felt a shiver of unease, followed by a mounting excitement.
It was easy to shuffle through the supply of servants’ garments to find a pair of breeches and a loose shirt. When she was dressed, she added a doublet to hide the curves that would mark her as a woman, and high boots to disguise her legs. She tucked her hair up beneath a round woolen cap.
When she was safely out the door, she broke into a run through the garden, enjoying the freedom from her gown and the promise of a sunny day for her adventure. At the Thames, she hired a wherry boat to take her to Southwark.
Surely, she would find Alex abed at the Rooster. The sun still hid behind the buildings as she tried to walk with a confident swagger from the dock to the tavern. More than once she had to fling herself into a doorway to keep from being run over by a fast-moving coach. She was deciding how to watch both entrances to the building, when the front door began to swing open. Ducking aside, she glanced over her shoulder and stared with surprise at Alex’s back as he strode away. He tossed his short cape back from his shoulders; the spurs on his long boots jingled. He looked awake and ready for the day, and a whistle trailed behind him.
Why had she thought him the type to be grumpy and ill from the effects of drinking? She had expected that to be the first fault on her list.
