Page 23 of The Earl's Hired Bride
They exchanged glances. “Good day, my lord.”
Almost before he knew it, he found himself being welcomed into his aunt’s parlor. His mother was there, and another lady, but there was no sign of Emily. He sat, allowed tea to be pressed upon him, but before he could ask after her whereabouts, the door opened again and the Paxtons entered.
Had they followed him? He suppressed a surge of annoyance.
“Oh, how funny to find you again so soon, my lord!” The elder Paxton told the whopper without a flinch.
Another flurry of introductions and Mrs. Paxton joined the ladies while her daughter wandered toward the window.
Finally, Hart had the chance to lean in towards his mother. “Where is Emily? Are you not taking her about with you?”
“Of course!” His mother glanced around. “She is here, somewhere . . .”
“Emily?” his aunt asked. “I thought I saw her step onto the terrace.”
“I believe this must be her.” Miss Paxton sounded like she was biting back laughter—and not the friendly kind. “Out in the garden.”
Hart rose to join her—and swallowed a groan. His faux fiancé was indeed out in the garden, sparring with his young cousin with a set of sticks.
“Perhaps social calls are conducted differently in America,” Miss Paxton said snidely. “I did hear that she comes from the colonies?”
“What is it?” his aunt called.
“It is Emily—she’s . . . getting to know James,” he replied.
“Oh, dear.” His aunt rose to join them. “James is quite ill-tempered just now and doesn’t want company.”
“Well, you did say that your betrothal was not official, my lord,” said Miss Paxton. “You can perhaps take comfort in the fact that it has not been announced in the papers.”
Hart shot her a quelling look. “I believe I’ll take comfort in the fact that my betrothed is kind and—”
A shout sounded from outside.
“Energetic,” he finished before he opened the door and strode out onto the terrace. The combatants were quite involved in their battle and didn’t notice him, even when he strode out onto the lawn where they fought.
“If you’ll permit me to cut in,” he began as he came up behind Emily.
With a gasp, she whirled—and whacked him right in the chest with her stick.
“Oof!” The shock came from the blow—and from the sight of her. Her eyes flashed with mirth, her skin glowed with health and exertion. She was laughing and happy and beautiful and . . . . so very alive.
He ignored the snort from Miss Paxton’s direction. “Good afternoon, Emily,” he said with a short bow.
“My lord,” she curtsied and sparkled up at him.
“I admit, this isn’t what I expected when I asked that you move quietly through society for the next few weeks.”
“Ah, well. We so rarely get what we expect in life, my lord.” She laughed. “I daresay it’s a good lesson for you.” She shot a conspirator’s glance at his young cousin. “And James here will not tell tales on me, will you James?”
Ignoring the boy’s assurances, Hart waved to the growing audience at the windows. “No, but they might.” He knew his own reaction would influence the others, though, and took care to show his good humor. “So if you’ll agree to let me take over the lesson, I’ll show young James a trueen gardestance?”
He shot her a grin, bowed low over her hand, took her stick from her and turned to the boy.
***
Emily staredin horror at her audience. Had she committed a social gaffe on her first outing? She held her chin high—and lifted it even higher when she saw that Miss Paxton was in the group at the terrace windows—and she was grinning in gleeful malice.
Keeping a smile firmly on her face, Emily headed back for the house. She’d tried to help a dejected boy—and might even have succeeded. She hadn’t done anything wrong—and even if she had, she would never admit it in front of that spiteful cat.
