Page 8 of Never a Bride
“Thank you,” she said, looking away, knowing he was secretly laughing at her and not understanding why.
He shut the door behind them, pulled the cloak about his shoulders, and led her to a rear staircase that exited to a surprisingly pleasant courtyard near the stables. They circled around to the front of the tavern, where Humphrey had just hoisted himself out of the driver’s seat.
“Lady Emmeline!” he cried, his expression so relieved that guilt rose up to swamp her.
“Forgive me, Humphrey,” she said, taking his hands. “Sir Alexander was kind enough to escort me out a back way. The tavern was rather raucous.”
But when she turned around, Sir Alexander was gone.
~oOo~
That evening Emmeline stood alone in her bedchamber, surrounded by the books and maps she so loved, and felt disquieted, restless. This situation with Sir Alexander had upset her ordered world. She wished desperately that she could have read his letter first, but Blythe was not a little girl to be so protected.
And yet…they had always shared so much. Surely Blythe was ready to discuss the letter’s contents—and the writer.
She slipped out into the dark stone corridor, carrying a candle to lighten the gloom. Crossing to Blythe’s door, she knocked softly and entered when her sister bade her to.
Blythe was sitting up in her four-poster bed that was hung with delicate fabrics and decorated with endless pillows. She liked to be among pretty things, and the room was indeed pleasant. Her sister had blankets piled in her lap and about her shoulders, and she was holding the letter near a candle on her bedside table.
Blythe smiled up at her. “I cannot thank you enough for bringing this to me, Emmy.”
“You must have read it many times by now.”
A blush suffused her sister’s cheeks. “Of course.”
Emmeline hesitated. “Might I read what he wrote?”
“Oh, surely,” she said, holding it out.
Emmeline took the letter over by the hearth and sat down in a comfortable chair. She bit her lip as she began reading, but there were no intimacies, nothing improper. Sir Alexander merely wrote of Blythe’s beauty and his desire to know her better. His handwriting was as bold and confident as he was. It was a nicely romantic letter, but nothing like what she’d received long ago from her beloved, her poet. The thought of what she’d lost brought a pain to her heart that she immediately swept aside, as always. It was Blythe’s turn for romance.
“Isn’t he wonderful?” Blythe said with a sigh, falling back amidst her pillows and hugging one to her chest.
If one likes rogues.In her mind Emmeline saw his wicked smile, the way his eyes had skimmed down her body as if penetrating the cloak. And he had thought her astrumpet.
She wanted to refuse ever to see Sir Alexander again, but Blythe had to be protected. If Blythe couldn’t find the right man for herself, then Emmeline would have to.
Blythe slid to the edge of the bed, her legs dangling beneath her linen night rail. “Tell me about him, Emmy; how he was, what he was doing when he read my letter, how he looked when he wrote back.”
Emmeline sighed. “He is a man of the world, dearest. You must realize that you are not the first girl to cast her eyes at him.”
“I know! But it is so enjoyable to have the interest of men, now that I’m finally of age.”
“Well, he was not at Thornton Manor, but in lodgings he rents above a tavern.”
Blythe’s lips parted in obvious amazement. “A tavern?”
“He says ’tis sometimes too long a journey home.”
She suddenly sat upright. “Wait—does that mean you were in the tavern, too?”
Emmeline reluctantly nodded, and Blythe let out a laugh.
“Oh, Emmy, I wish I could have been there with you. Did he offer to protect you from unsavory sorts?”
“You could say that,” she said, realizing that if she told the truth, Blythe might be offended enough to lose this infatuation. Very briefly, she explained the sword fight, and Sir Alexander carrying her up to his room.
Blythe’s eyes went wide and she covered her mouth with both hands. “How heroic!”
