Page 4 of Never a Bride
Chapter 2
Two days later, Emmeline decided that her worry over Alexander Thornton was unnecessary. Blythe hadn’t even mentioned his name, and usually she chattered freely about whichever suitor she favored each week.
It wasn’t until a maidservant requested a coach to deliver a letter, that Emmeline’s suspicions flared back to life. After discovering that Sir Alexander was the recipient and assuring the maidservant that she herself would see the letter delivered, Emmeline walked purposefully to her sister’s chamber.
The room was warm and cozy, hung with tapestries and carpets, and overflowing with fresh flowers from their greenhouse. Blythe turned from her dressing table, and her smile dimmed as Emmeline held up the letter.
“Blythe, dear, you know you are always to tell me before you begin a—a correspondence with a man not well known to us,” she said, drawing up a stool to sit beside her sister.
Blythe sighed. “Sir Alexander is not the sort of man you’d think highly of. But Emmy, he is so…intriguing.”
Emmeline could easily remember his smile and it was still vivid in her mind. She had to proceed carefully, or else Blythe would do the exact opposite of whatever Emmeline said.
“I would just feel better if I knew more about Sir Alexander,” Emmeline continued, leaning forward to touch her sister’s hand. “Therefore…I will deliver this letter and take stock of him myself.” Where had that idea come from? Visit a strange man alone? What had gotten into her?
“That is not necessary, Emmy!” Blythe said, her eyes widening.
“Are you concerned for my welfare—or about what Sir Alexander will think?” she asked dryly.
Blythe managed a blush. “I’m always concerned about you! But of course you may see the letter to Alex’s household, if it will make you feel better.”
“Alex?” Emmeline repeated, leaning back on the stool to study her sister.
“He asked me to call him that,” she replied brightly. “Will you go now? It is already past midday.”
Emmeline reluctantly smiled. It was difficult to deny her sister anything.
~oOo~
Emmeline had no difficulty persuading Humphrey, the family coachman, to take her to the Thornton Manor upstream on the Thames. He was bald and round and treated Emmeline and Blythe like his grandchildren.
And most important, she trusted that he would not tell her father the details. Her father took his responsibilities as the Marquess of Kent very seriously, and seldom had time for his daughters. He required weekly reports on Blythe’s progress in finding a husband, but other than that, he took little interest in their lives. So long as Emmeline kept his households running smoothly and his younger daughter in check, he was satisfied. She had long since stopped wishing that he could be the father of her fancies, a man who dined with them each evening and asked about their day. Even her brothers, when they were in town, seldom saw such a side to him.
While Humphrey dutifully waited by the coach, Emmeline approached the Thornton home, only to be informed by a servant that Sir Alexander was not at home, but that he might be at his lodgings above the Rooster, a tavern in Southwark.
Southwark?she thought, as she turned away from the closing door. Why would a viscount’s son take lodgings in a disreputable part of London, when he already had such a lovely home?
“Humphrey,” she said as she approached the carriage and he held the door open, “we need to cross the river to Southwark.”
She saw his hesitation, but the sweet old man didn’t speak until she was comfortably settled on the upholstered seat.
“Milady,” he said, removing his cap to lean his head inside the coach, “let me take the letter for ye.”
“I must do this myself,” Emmeline said firmly. “This man is wooing Blythe, and I need to take his measure. Know you the Rooster?”
He bobbed his head, his worried expression remaining.
“Then let us go.”
He hesitated, nodded, and closed the door.
They journeyed over the London Bridge, with its fine merchant homes and shops. At the end of the bridge, she avoided looking at the rotting heads mounted on pikes high above the gate.
She could not fathom why a nobleman’s son would want to live here, in an area rife with gambling and bear-baiting, and what other sports she could only imagine. This did not look good for Sir Alexander, she thought, rubbing her hands together to warm them in the brisk air.
Like Blythe’s other flirtations, this one would pass, and her sister would eventually settle on a good, decent man. But until then, Emmeline could not relax her vigilance.
When they reached the tavern, she left the coach, telling herself that the street did not look so very different from ones in the heart of London. There were cutpurses to be wary of, and there seemed to be more scantily dressed women about, but there were hardworking folk too, who did not have her good fortune.
