Page 60 of Never a Bride
Maxwell Willoughby approached her and bowed. “Lady Emmeline, how lovely you look this night.”
“Maxwell!” She gave his hand a squeeze, and bestowed a fond smile on him. “Blythe and I have missed you this past sennight. What kept you from us?”
“I had business in Sussex, my lady, but I thank you for thinking of me.” His smile became self-deprecating. “And it is kind of you to say your sister missed me, but I think not quite the truth.”
She waved her hand. “Nonsense. We both enjoyed the day in Islington.”
He seemed about to say something else, but only shook his head and smiled. Emmeline felt relieved, because just mentioning the village fair brought back shadowed memories of a nearly naked Alex. She had not seen him during the week, either, and she’d been torn between relief and regret.
“Maxwell, remain here with me. I’m certain Blythe would enjoy a dance with you.” She eyed him sternly. “You are going to ask her, aren’t you?”
He hesitated.
“Maxwell!”
“I’ll try, my lady. It is difficult for me to compete with the gentlemen who gather about her.”
“You can do it,” she insisted, laying a hand on his arm.
Maxwell covered her hand with his. “I shall do my best.”
But dance after dance, Blythe didn’t return; she merely continued to laugh as each dance was claimed before she even left the floor. Emmeline ran out of things to say in the face of Maxwell’s growing dejection.
Was she wrong? Would the tentative friendship she felt between Blythe and Maxwell wither rather than flourish?
But no. She sensedsomething, and she had to find a way to give it meaning.
Sighing, she looked out once more into the hall and saw that Blythe was now dancing with Alex. She froze, wondering why she hadn’t known he had arrived, why she hadn’t felt his presence like a living thing wrapping itself about her?
He didn’t look her way as led her sister through the intricate steps of the dance. The musicians played, the guests laughed and enjoyed themselves, but Emmeline could only stare, remembering Alex’s mouth on hers even as that mouth smiled so charmingly at her sister.
But Blythe seemed unaffected, as her gaze wandered about the other dancers and landed only briefly on Alex. Emmeline could not understand why her sister wasn’t swooning in his arms, as she would be. But then again, his kiss had meant nothing to Blythe, and that was a great relief.
Tearing her gaze away, she glanced at Maxwell and found that he, too, was staring at the dancing couple. His usual smile was gone, replaced by an intensity of which she had never thought him capable. His eyes were narrowed, unblinking, and she realized that he was angry, even jealous.
“Go to her,” she said softly. “Ask her to dance.”
But without a word, he stalked away from her and out of the presence chamber.
Emmeline stood alone for a few moments, saddened that her plans were not succeeding. Finally, she wandered to where the married and elderly ladies were sitting and took a bench nearby. The evening’s promise dwindled away, and she sighed.
“Look at him dancing,” said a disdainful voice not far from her.
She glanced over her shoulder, then shook her head. It was that dreadful woman again, Lady Boxworth, who had taken such delight in gossiping about Alex at Lady Morley’s party.
Emmeline pitied her newest target and didn’t feel tempted to listen.
“Who is that he is dancing with?” asked another woman.
“The Prescott girl, Kent’s daughter.”
Emmeline closed her eyes and barely restrained a groan. Not again. How could she escape without calling attention to herself?
“She is a good match for him, is she not?”
“Too good,” said Lady Boxworth. “Last year, perhaps, he might have fancied he could reach such heights, but his masquerade is discovered now. Kent will not suffer him, ’tis certain.”
Emmeline kept as still as a hunter’s prey, her head averted, feeling guilty and curious at the same time.
