Page 39 of Never a Bride
“Or yourself?” he asked softly.
When he reached for her, she stepped away.
“I have to return. They’ll be looking for me.”
“Blythe will, but I’m not so certain about your father.”
“Don’t!” she warned coldly. “Don’t speak about things you don’t understand.” She turned away, drew her cloak tighter and began to walk as quickly as possible.
Alex walked slowly up the path, whistling softly. As he approached the lights of the party and the sound of guests enjoying themselves, he tried to analyze what he was feeling—something he hated to do. He’d never lost control of himself like that, especially not in someone else’s home. But in those few moments when he’d held her against him, nothing else had mattered, not even the dangerous excitement of impropriety.
Kissing Emmeline was more exhilarating than even he had imagined—and he could imagine a lot. There was a hunger inside her, a passion she denied probably because she hadn’t known it existed.
But nowheknew, and just the thought made him hard again.
When he finally had himself under control by thinking about crop management rather than Emmeline, he left the dark garden paths and returned to the party. Blythe was making a speech, thanking her father for the evening. But her true thanks were reserved for her sister, whom she drew forward despite Emmeline’s protests.
Emmeline was blushing prettily as she hugged her sister. She curtsied to applause, but Alex thought she looked uncomfortable, that she forced her pleasure for her sister alone. He knew her well enough to know exactly what she was thinking:I just kissed your suitor!
Alex didn’t feel guilty. Blythe was led off to dance by Seabrook, while Emmeline did the hard work of keeping the masque running smoothly. Blythe would easily find someone better than Alex to marry. But Emmeline—
His thought stopped as he watched her speak with the servants, and he felt something in his gut tighten. Emmeline seemed to always be in the background, making everything run smoothly for everyone else. Even he, who’d wanted to visit her during the week, had pretended it was Blythe he meant to see. He was positive no one had danced with Emmeline tonight.
Alex stepped forward to right that wrong, then halted. She wouldn’t welcome an offer to dance from him now. So he stood in the shadows and watched her.
~oOo~
It was another hour before Emmeline felt like she might make it through the evening after all. She had calmed her mind by returning to her duties, and now Alex’s kiss was just another memory, best forgotten. She was grateful he did not come near her—yet depressed at the same time. She needed a distraction.
And got it in the form of Maxwell Willoughby, a baron and cousin to an earl. They met at the refreshment table, and Emmeline found him charming and gentle, so thoughtful in his speech. He had a blond English handsomeness that seemed refreshingly safe. He wasn’t very tall, or very broad, not threatening in any way.
He might be perfect for Blythe. After all, Blythe would tire quickly of Lord Seabrook when she realized all he truly loved to talk about were his horses.
Emmeline allowed Lord Willoughby to pour her a wine punch then asked, “Lord Willoughby, do you live in London?”
“Only occasionally, my lady. I spend most of the year at my estate in Sussex.”
Not too far away, that was good. “And what most occupies your mind there?”
His eyes widened a bit, but he had the grace to laugh pleasantly. “Do not allow me to start on my passion, Lady Emmeline. I might bore you.”
“Never, my lord!”
“Very well. I am endeavoring to grow wine grapes. It is such a shame to import wine, when here in England we have the finest soil, if only we could figure how best to use it.”
“So you study for this interest of yours?”
“Oh, yes. And I travel each year to the best vineyards in France.”
This was even better. Blythe had always talked about wanting to see the world. As he talked longer, Emmeline was charmed by his fascination with his project, his good-natured intelligence, and his love of reading.
When Blythe came over to speak with her, Emmeline tried to control her excitement.
“Blythe, dearest, I’d like you to meet Lord Willoughby. My lord, this is my sister, the Lady Blythe.”
Lord Willoughby’s eyes widened as he beheld her sister, and he bowed quite charmingly. Smiling happily, Emmeline looked back and forth between them. But…Lord Willoughby remained silent, though his posture spoke interest and attention.
After a moment, Blythe said, “How nice to meet you, my lord,” and reached out her hand.
