Page 16 of Loving an Earl
When he entered the ballroom and found Blackstone standing alone, he inquired, “Where did the ladies go?”
Blackstone cocked a single brow. “You tell me. They took their leave quite suddenly. Care to elaborate on what caused the lovely countess, flustered and blushing, to insist they leave posthaste?”
Edmund huffed and hated himself even more when he felt the heat from his neck rise up his face. “Nothing.”
“You are a terrible liar.” He smacked him on the back. “Let’s go to White’s. I’m angry at you. I was enjoying my time being standoffish with Emmeline.”
*
At a dimroom in the back of White’s, Edmund and Blackstone sat on comfortable chairs in front of a blazing hearth drinking brandy. Edmund stared into the swirling amber liquid in his glass. Nerves refused to let his hand be still, so around and around the glass and liquid went.
“Never has a man found the answers inside a glass of spirits,” Blackstone said as he stared at him.
“Don’t be so sure about that.” He stopped swirling the glass and took a healthy swallow. “Before you interrupted me, I believe I saw my future... bleak and lonely.”
“You are in a mood tonight, my friend. What’s bothering you?”
Edmund glanced around the room, making sure they were still alone. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “Besides the fact that I lust after my uncle’s widow?”
Blackstone chuckled and Edmund glared at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to find humor in the situation. But there’s no reason you can’t pursue the lady.”
“She hates me.”
His friend swung his head to him, his eyes alight with curiosity. “Do tell.”
“First, there’s how abominably I behaved toward her when we met last year. Then tonight—let us just say I pressed my advantage. Wrongly.”
“So that’s why she marched up to Emmeline and me in the ballroom, flushed and her eyes intent on murder, demanding to leave at once.” Blackstone downed his drink in one gulp. “A fine pair we make. I lust after the beautiful widow of one of my dearly departed friends, and you lust after your uncle’s widow. What did we do to bring the wrath of the Fates down upon us?”
“Here you two are,” Caldwell said as he dropped into an empty chair that one of White’s attendants pulled forth in a hurry. “Whisky, please.” A drink in his hand, he held it up. “Here’s to the London Season.” He took a deep pull and relaxed back in his chair. “Why the long faces?”
“We are a wicked lot. We are.” Edmund signaled the server. “Just leave the bottle.”
Caldwell lifted his brows, eyeing them both. “Speak for yourselves. I’ve never been wicked a day in my life.”
“Oh, come now.” Blackstone held up his empty glass and signaled Edmund to hand over the bottle. “You are the worst of us. At least Edmund and I lust after widows. You lust after... hell if I know. We have been away from London for so long that we’ve lost our touch.”
“Widows?” Caldwell asked, his brows raised. “What widows do I know?” He smirked. “Yes. I remember now. You, my friend Blackstone, have always desired Emmeline for yourself. There’s nothing standing in your way now. Aiden would be glad to know she found an honorable man—one who loves her.”
“I can’t entertain the thought. Besides, I have no honor,” Blackstone said with a frown. “If she ever found out the truth, she would hate me. I need to keep her at a distance.”
“As for Edmund.” Caldwell shrugged his shoulders. “What widow? Your uncle’s?”
“How did you...” Edmund choked out the words.
“I didn’t, just a guess.” Caldwell eyed his drink. “I’m feeling left out. Is there not another lovely widow to be had for me?”
The three gentlemen chuckled, none with lightness in their heart.
*
Aunt Vivian slepton the ride home. Emmeline sat across from her, lost in her own thoughts, which suited Lilly just fine. She didn’t want to talk about what had happened. But, she realized, she also wanted to confide in her. What was wrong with her?
Later, lying in bed, unable to sleep, she welcomed the knock on the door and the voice whispering. “Lilly. Are you awake?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad,” Emmeline said as she entered and shut the door behind her. Without being invited, she crawled onto the other side of the bed, sitting up against the pillows. “I can’t sleep. Tell me what happened. Both with the Duke of Westport and Langford. Because I knew something had happened when you stomped into the ballroom demanding we leave. Not to mention the blush on your neck and face.”
