Page 10 of Indecently Daring

Cat put her hand up to cover her mouth and Alana was uncertain if it was shock or amusement she was hiding. Her friend gathered herself sufficiently to reply.

“Good heavens, Alana. I’m supposed to be the outrageous one, you do remember that? You know, for a moment there I thought perhaps you’d caught his eye, but now I see he was furious with you. The poor man,” she added with a choked sound that sounded suspiciously like suppressed mirth.

Alana huffed and folded her arms. “Caught his eye, indeed. He’s done nothing but cast disapproving looks in my direction since the moment we met. Though I suppose I must admit, I’ve done nothing much he could approve of. Oh, drat it. Now I shall have to apologise to him, and I loathe apologising. There’s nothing worse than being in the wrong!”

“Cheer up, you silly goose. I can assure you apologising when you know you’re in the right is infinitely worse.”

A gong sounded somewhere in the house, and Cat leapt to her feet, tugging Alana with her. “Come along. You know you get morose when you’re hungry. Let’s have lunch and then apologising to the gorgeous vicar will seem vastly less distressing.”

“It had better,” Alana said gloomily, and allowed Cat to tow her out of the room.

6th January 1845, Heart’s Folly, Sussex.

Emmeline paced up and down the parlour. Her heart thudded behind her ribs, an excitable and uneven series of beats that she could not believe were good for her health.

“Do stop being such a nitwit,” she muttered as she paced, but no amount of scolding would soothe her jittery nerves.

Somehow, everything had worked out perfectly. Louis and Evie had gone for the day and Mama had gone with them, believing Emmeline’s fib about having a headache, though she would have a headache soon enough if she kept this nonsense up. Her father had left the day before with Felix to attend a meeting in town, and Emmeline and Mama were due to follow at the end of the week. Today was also the day many of the servants, including Emmeline’s maid, took a half day, and the house was practically deserted. A cold luncheon had been left out for her in the dining room, should she desire it, but Wrexham still hadn’t arrived. There was no way on earth she could sit still long enough to eat a bite when she was in such a state of agitation. No matter how she looked at it, the fact was she had lied and arranged circumstances so that a gentleman with a reputation as a libertine, and one about whom there were whispers of madness, could call upon her, alone.

That did not seem to be an entirely sensible thing to do.

“Entirely sensible,” she said incredulously. “It’s deranged is what it is, and now you’re talking to yourself. Congratulations on losing your reason.”

Shaking her head at the sad state of her morals and her sanity, Emmeline flounced into the nearest chair and put her head in her hands. Wrexham had sworn his intentions were honourable, if selfish, and she believed he meant her no harm, foolish as that might be. As for the gossip about his state of mind, he seemed perfectly sane to her. Besides which, anyone seeing her in such a tizzy might well think she was mad and start a ridiculous rumour. The thought was not entirely reassuring.

The sound of wheels upon gravel had her leaping to her feet. She raced to the window and peered around the curtains to see Wrexham’s elegant carriage stop at the front door. Hurrying out, Emmeline made it down the front steps just in time to see Wrexham step down from his carriage with the aid of a footman.

Emmeline’s breath caught as she took in the sight of him and so disordered her brain that she almost tripped and fell down the steps. Saving herself at the last moment, she slowed her steps, so she did not embarrass herself by landing in a heap at his feet. Though her thoughts had been far too preoccupied with him of late, she had convinced herself that he was not half so handsome as she remembered, and it was just her overactive imagination gilding the lily.

It wasn’t her imagination.

Sunlight glinted off thick hair the colour of old gold. The marquess held an ebony walking stick in one hand, long, strong fingers curled about the silver handle, and his tall, imposing figure gave one a sense of the commanding personality behind his eyes. Impeccably dressed as always, that he was blind made not a whit of difference to the impression of a powerful man in the prime of his life. Doing her best to gather her scattered wits, Emmeline curtsied, despite him not being able to see it, for the footmen could and she was damned if he’d get anything less than the respect he was due.

“My lord, it is good to see you looking so well. You have recovered from your illness, I hope?”

“Miss Milly,” Wrexham said, his expression becoming alert as she spoke. His words were warm and approving and made odd little shivers run up and down Emmeline’s spine. “I am quite recovered, I thank you, and how good it is to hear that lovely voice again. I am so pleased you are here. I feared you might not be at home.”

“I would not do that, Wrexham,” she said crossly, annoyed he should think her such a feeble creature.

“I’m glad, though I should not have thought ill of you for doing so,” he replied, a wry smile tugging at his mouth.

Emmeline stared at his lips for too long, remembering the fleeting touch of his mouth against her cheek, and then blushed furiously. Ridiculous girl, she scolded herself, for he could hardly see her staring or blushing, but it didn’t seem to matter.

“Well, I would have,” she retorted sharply, thoroughly discomposed now. “Would you take my arm, Lord Wrexham? There are eighteen steps to the front door.”

“I had forgotten how very fierce you are, Miss Milly, and I will take your arm with pleasure.”

“Miss Knight!” she corrected him impatiently, though in truth she had come to like his nickname for her, and his teasing. Lord, but she was in a bad way, she thought with a sigh.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Knight,” he said gravely, though she felt certain he was laughing at her, and was then quiet for a moment as they navigated the steps.

“We’ll go to the parlour,” she said as they walked. “It’s a lovely room that catches the morning sun and there’s a fire blazing, too. It’s delightfully cosy. Shall I order some tea?”

“Not on my account, but please do if you would like to.”

“Oh, no, I’m all agog to discover what it is you want to discuss with me,” she said, wishing she had not sounded quite so eager. Emmeline glanced up at him, wondering if she could gather any clues from his expression but his face was impassive, giving nothing away.

“Here we are. If you would like to take this chair.” Emmeline waited as Wrexham put his hand on the chair back and oriented himself. Once he was settled, she sat in the chair opposite him. Suddenly she wished she had ordered tea, for it would have given her something to do other than gawk at the stunning man before her like the verriest ninny.