Page 63 of Never a Bride
“It is not a tryst,” she said crossly, looking towards the high windows. “Do you know how to reach the terrace?”
He grinned and nodded, and she wondered how many secret places in Whitehall he knew about that she did not.
“Very well, I shall meet you out there in a quarter of an hour.”
“Must I wait so long?” he murmured.
She resisted the pull of his voice. “I need to speak with you, not lure the rest of the party outside for curiosity’s sake.”
He heaved a melodramatic sigh. “The minutes will drag like hours.”
“For a poet, that is a highly unoriginal phrase, Alex.”
He put a hand to his heart and leaned over her. “You wound me, Lady Emmeline.”
She backed away. “You’ll meet me, then?”
“Of course. How could I resist?”
“Resist your baser impulses, sir, and think only to listen to my request.”
He caught her hand before she could escape. “My baser impulses control me when I’m with you, Em.”
She could confess to the same sin. She pulled away, trying not to remember the way he’d kissed her, held her, and stroked her. “Fifteen minutes,” she whispered, and let the crowd swallow her.
To calm her wayward thoughts, she spent the next few moments discovering Blythe’s whereabouts, and then her father’s. Neither was looking for her.
She began to walk the length of the chamber, staying near the wall. She wandered through archways and back, hoping to confuse anyone who might see her. Finally, with a last look over her shoulder, she slipped behind a marble column, then out the open doors to the terrace.
The night was overcast and dark, and a slight breeze made bumps stand up along Emmeline’s arms. There were torches lit near the palace and guards on duty at the doors, but farther out into the gardens, where the ground dropped away into the next level of terrace, it looked like the end of the earth.
She didn’t see Alex. She had not thought of an exact place to meet him, and she now realized she could wander the grounds for days before they found one another.
She walked out toward the stone balustrade, hugging herself against the chill, wondering if she was acting stupidly. Should she have just invited him to the manor and met him in broad daylight? Before her doubts could escalate, he seemed to materialize out of the gloom at her side, his midnight velvet garments concealing him.
She gave a little start of surprise, then sagged against the balustrade with a sigh.
“Expecting someone else?” he asked calmly.
She felt foolish and far too daring than could be good for her. She almost said he might be as good at spying as his brother, but she restrained herself. He had confided none of this to her, and she didn’t want to offend him just when she needed something from him.
“I didn’t hear you coming, Alex. But thank you for doing so.”
“How could I resist when asked so mysteriously?”
He stood too close at her side, and rather than move nervously away, she looked out into the darkness.
She should just ask him the favor; but how to sway him? She could not tell him Maxwell needed help to court Blythe, because he would see that as a challenge. She heard him chuckle.
“My lady, did you just need a companion tonight? We could have found a place where even the guards wouldn’t find us.”
She ignored his implication and decided to charge right in. “Alex, Lord Willoughby needs our help.”
Whatever Alex had expected her to say, it wasn’t that. “What has he done, gambled away all his money?”
She waved a hand. “Nothing so foolish. He needs a different kind of help, something more…personal.”
He didn’t like the dark sensation that wound through his gut and made him want to bash in Willoughby’s face. Emmeline betrayed her fondness for the boy with every smile, and Alex couldn’t explain why it bothered him so.
