Page 37 of Never a Bride
Alex lifted his sword. “We weren’t finished, were we?”
Edmund walked toward him, his weapon dangling from one hand. “What happened with Lady Emmeline?”
“Nothing,” he said, raising his sword. “Let’s have at it.”
But Edmund only circled him slowly, his eyes thoughtful. “Did she tell you why she’s been following you?”
“I’ve always known why.” Alex thrust forward.
Edmund parried, then stumbled back as Alex came at him again. “Since when has practice become serious to you?”
Alex only answered with his sword.
~oOo~
Emmeline’s father decided to celebrate his homecoming with an “event.” He wanted to have a masque, with actors performing for his guests, and she hoped planning it would make her forget the thoughts of Alex that constantly crept into her mind.
But she wasn’t successful. Every moment that she wasn’t focused on the party, she thought of him and remembered their solitary moments in the garden like some secret dream she had never thought could come true. She’d felt every part of his body against hers, and the dark, simmering passion of it all would not leave her. She didn’t know how she would face him again, for she could barely face Blythe—or even herself in the mirror.
He’d wanted to kiss her! Over and over she wondered what it would have felt like, and guiltily wished he’d done it. The shame of being dangerously attracted to her sister’s suitor was all mixed up with the excitement and dread. During the week before the masque, he had twice visited Blythe, and Emmeline made sure she was busy elsewhere. Oh, she was careful to keep a servant in the room with them, but she herself stayed far away.
How could she look him in the eyes? All she would remember was his body on hers. Her face would give her away, especially to Blythe, who might want answers Emmeline couldn’t give.
The sooner she got Alex Thornton out of their lives, the better. She personally oversaw the guest list, inviting every eligible man in London. Surely there were other men who would appeal to her sister.
Though it had rained all week, the night of the masque was clear and moonlit. The gardens seemed to shimmer with moisture and the promise of summer’s heat. On impulse, Emmeline had allowed Blythe to set up a pavilion for the masked drama, rather than hold it indoors. All week she’d been close to changing her mind, but as the beauty of that Saturday night unfolded, she was thankful. Her father actually commended her efforts before he disappeared into his withdrawing chamber with the other older gentlemen.
The guests hummed about her in droves, the food was devoured and praised, even the actors’ performances drew hearty laughter and applause. Though Emmeline was in the center of it all, she felt alone, removed from everyone. The week’s efforts had culminated in a success—but all she felt was tiredness.
Even as she watched approvingly while the young men gathered about her sister, she thought of Alex. She didn’t want him here—yet she did. Once, she had seen him standing beneath a cluster of lanterns as he watched one man after another dance with Blythe. He didn’t seem sad, so much as…alone. He made no effort to dance with Blythe himself, as far as Emmeline could tell.
Could he finally be realizing that Blythe was wrong for him? Or was he just bored and ready to move on to another young woman?
Emmeline watched her father approach Blythe, while a young man trailed him. There were introductions made and shy smiles exchanged, and her father’s approving nod.
Tears stung Emmeline’s eyes. But her hard work would be worth it if Blythe could be happy all of her days.
Turning away, Emmeline hugged her cloak about her shoulders and followed a torchlit path. The breeze was cool off the river, and the sweet smells of budding flowers calmed her. She wound deeper into the garden, until even the voices of her guests faded. Nothing but insects and lapping water and peace. She sniffed and wiped away a foolish tear.
“Blythe!”
Emmeline gave a start at the sound of Alex’s voice.
From around the bend of hedges, she heard him call again. “Blythe, you know your sister wouldn’t want you to run off by yourself.”
He was coming. Emmeline looked about almost frantically, but the Thames was before her and Alex close behind. She kept her back to him, wishing she knew what to say, how to explain the reasons for her actions.
She heard his heavy sigh, then stiffened when he caught her elbow.
“Blythe, let me take you back—” He turned her about, then froze, his hands gripping her upper arms. For what seemed like an endless moment they stared at each other, again caught alone in a garden, but this time with the magic of moonlight.
She tried desperately to sound unaffected. “Alex,” she said, nodding her head.
He didn’t let her go, just watched her with an unreadable expression.
She felt her throat go dry, her heart beat strangely, but still he didn’t release her. “Is it your turn to follow me through a garden?” she asked in a husky voice unlike her own.
He bent his head even nearer. “I’m glad I did.”
