Splendid (23 page)

Alex nodded his greeting to Belle, who had strategically positioned herself on a sofa that offered an excellent view of the entire room. After Belle smiled back at him sunnily, he focused his attention on Emma. “I trust you had a pleasant afternoon following our return,” he said politely.

“It was very nice, thank you,” Emma replied automatically, holding onto the back of a pale yellow chair with a death grip.

Belle watched the exchange with unconcealed interest, her head bobbing shamelessly back and forth between Emma and Alex.

“I feel as if I'm on the stage,” Emma muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” Alex inquired cordially.

“Did you say something?” Belle asked at the very same time.

Emma smiled weakly and shook her head. The tension in the room was really quite thick enough to eat.

“I believe I'll have another whiskey,” Alex said.

“I have a feeling you might need it,” Belle put in with an innocent smile.

“Impertinent chit.” Alex smoothly crossed the room and poured himself a drink. As he made his way back to his spot at the windowsill, he brushed very closely by Emma, murmuring in her ear, “Do try not to ruin the furniture, my dear. That's one of my mother's favorite chairs.”

Emma immediately let go of the chair and practically flew over an end table in her haste to seat herself next to Belle. When she looked up again, Alex was smiling widely.

Emma, on the other hand, was not smiling at all.

Thankfully, Sophie chose that moment to sail into the room. “Hello, everybody,” she said merrily, glancing quickly around the room. “I see that Mother hasn't arrived yet. Hmmm, what a surprise. I would have thought she'd be most anxious to inquire about your ride this afternoon.”

“I would have thought so, too,” Alex said dryly.

Sophie had no response for that so she scooted across the room and seated herself in the pale yellow chair that Emma had so recently been trying to mangle. Emma slouched a little, slightly deflated by Alex's caustic comment.

“Cleopatra had her kittens,” Sophie announced with a smile. “Charlie was thrilled. He's been talking of nothing else all evening. Unfortunately, now he insists upon asking me all sorts of, well,
sensitive
questions, which I do not feel at all prepared to discuss with a six-year-old boy.” She sighed sadly. “I do wish Oliver would return home soon.”

“I am certain Alex will be able to aid you in the sensitive question department,” Emma said peevishly, regretting her words the moment they flew out of her mouth.

Belle made a strange sound that was half laugh and half snort and then started to cough. Emma fought a strong urge to whack her soundly on the back.

Alex continued to lean against the windowsill, his expression inscrutable, and Emma wanted to curse him for looking so devastatingly handsome without even trying. He appeared to be quite fascinated with his perfectly manicured fingernails.

The truth, however, was that he was deathly afraid he'd burst out laughing if he allowed himself to look at Emma. She would never forgive
him for that, he knew. There was something so comically adorable about her as she sat there on the couch, absolutely seething. He sensed that there was nothing that irritated her more than watching him appear in complete control of himself while her emotions were churning. He wasn't cruel; he just preferred to see her spitting mad than forlorn and guilt-ridden as she had been that afternoon. He brushed an invisible piece of lint off of his waistcoat and stole a quick glance at Emma. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw her take a deep breath and exhale it slowly.

He couldn't resist.

“I trust your stay at Westonbirt has been pleasurable thus far, Emma.” He was surely going to spend a year in hell for that comment, but it was worth it.

“Just fine,” she bit out, refusing to look at him.

“Only just fine?” he said, his face a perfect mask of solicitousness. “We have not been doing our jobs properly then. What else can we do to entertain you?”

“I am certain there is nothing
you
can do,” she said pointedly.

Belle's mouth was hanging open.

“Now, that cannot be true,” Alex returned. “I shall simply have to try harder. Why don't we go for another ride tomorrow afternoon? There is much I haven't shown you.”

He thought Belle was going to fall off the sofa.

“That won't be necessary, your grace,” Emma said stiffly.

“But—”

“I said it won't be necessary!” she burst out. Then, realizing that everyone was looking at her most oddly, she added, “I have a bit of a sniffle.” She sniffed a bit to demonstrate but of course
sounded perfectly clear. Smiling weakly, she folded her hands in her lap and resolved to say nothing else.

Sophie leapt into the silence. “Er, Belle,” she said awkwardly. “Why don't you take one of the kittens back with you? I have no idea what we'll do with the lot of them.”

“I doubt that my mother will agree,” Belle replied. “The last cat was an unmitigated disaster. It had a bit of a flea problem, you see.”

“I don't think our kittens have been alive long enough to have gotten fleas,” Sophie mused.

“Nonetheless, I imagine my mother will feel quite strongly about it.”

“What will I feel quite strongly about?” Caroline asked loudly from the doorway.

“Sophie is trying to convince us to take home one of Cleopatra's kittens,” Belle explained.

“Heavens, no!” Caroline replied emphatically. “You may have one out in the country but never again in London.” She entered the room, nodding her hello to Alex and then took a seat near Emma, Belle, and Sophie. Henry, who had followed her downstairs, took one look at the collection of women in the corner and headed straight over to Alex.

“Whiskey?” Alex inquired, holding up his glass.

“Don't mind if I do,” Henry replied affably, raising a hand to stop Alex from getting up. He quickly crossed the room, poured himself a drink, and returned to Alex's side. “I have a feeling we'll need these this evening,” he remarked.

“Strangely enough, that's
exactly
what your daughter said not five minutes earlier.”

“How was your ride this afternoon, my dear?” Caroline asked Emma, loudly enough for all to hear.

“It was very nice, thank you.”

Alex thought her reply was very weak, indeed. “I had a brilliant time,” he boomed.

“I am sure you did,” Emma said, mostly to herself, trying to forget it had been she who had cried out in pleasure that afternoon, not Alex.

“Did you say something, my dear?” Caroline asked solicitously.

“No, no I didn't. I was just—er—clearing my throat.”

“You seem to do that quite often.” Alex couldn't resist Emma's obvious distress, so he crossed the room and took the seat next to Caroline. Henry followed in his wake. “Or at least you do while in my presence.”

Emma glared at Alex so ferociously that Sophie could not help murmuring a soft, “Oh my!”

Alex sipped his whiskey serenely, appearing completely unaffected by Emma's ire.

Which, of course, only served to make her even more irate.

At that point, Alex cracked a smile.

“Well!” Caroline declared, only to break the silence. Much to her dismay, however, everybody immediately stared at her and then she had to say something more. “Do tell us more about your afternoon, Emma dear.” It seemed to be a popular topic.

“Well, actually—” Emma started, her irritation beginning to get the better of her.

Belle's foot slammed into her shin. Emma gulped with pain, smiled weakly, and replied, “It was lovely, thank you.”

Silence fell again, and this time nobody, not even Caroline, was brave enough to break it.

Emma stared down at her lap, her fingers idly plucking at her skirts. She could feel Alex's eyes resting on her, and much as she tried, she could
not summon the courage to meet his gaze. As she sat in stony silence, she had to admit that it was herself with whom she was angry, not Alex.

She knew that she was intensely attracted to Alex. But to admit that fact to the gentleman in question somehow seemed to go against every tenet of her upbringing, and it was difficult to turn her back on the set of morals that her father and her aunt and uncle had instilled in her. She was in a fine mess now, wanting him so badly and knowing that she shouldn't allow herself to have him. She could justify her desire by the fact that she loved him, but she somehow had to find the willpower to stop herself from acting on that desire.

It would all be different if he loved her even just a tiny bit as much as she loved him.

Or, Emma thought despondently, if he merely proposed. Marriage to Alex without mutual love was preferable to not having him at all. She looked over at him. He had gone back to examining his fingernails and did not look even remotely like a man who was about to ask a woman to marry him. Emma swallowed and sank back further into the sofa.

“Goodness! It sounds as if we've had a funeral in here. Have you all lost your powers of speech?” Eugenia stood in the doorway of the drawing room, clad in an elegant gown of green silk.

“Actually, Mother, I think everyone is somewhat afraid to open his—or
her
—mouth.” Alex smiled widely at his mother as he rose to give her an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

Eugenia looked at her son accusingly. “You haven't been brutalizing our guests, have you?”

“Only me,” Emma chirped bravely, causing her aunt to shoot her a remonstrating look.

Alex chuckled, delighted at Emma's barb. “Perhaps I could escort you to supper, Miss Dunster,” he said graciously, walking over to her and extending his arm.

“Of course,” Emma murmured. What else could she do with such an avid group of onlookers? Smiling prettily at her audience, she rose and tried to take a step toward the door, but Alex's iron grip held her firmly in place.

“I believe we'll bring up the rear,” he stated, a little too obviously.

“If none of you mind,” Emma hastened to add, feeling her cheeks pinken.

“Oh no, we don't mind
at all,
” Eugenia exclaimed, practically hauling her daughter out of the room.

Within seconds the room had been vacated.

“Don't you ever do that to me again!” Emma burst out, wrenching herself from his grasp.

“Do what?” he asked innocently.

“I trust your stay has been pleasurable, Emma,” she mimicked, imitating his tone perfectly.

“Oh, come now, Emma. You cannot begrudge me a bit of fun.”

“Not at my expense. I was mortified.”

“Don't be so angry, love. You know I was only teasing you.”

“I know no such thing. It seemed to me that you were merely having a bit of revenge because you didn't get what you wanted this afternoon.”

Unable to bear the broken look in her eyes, Alex took her by the shoulders and pulled her against him. “Oh, darling, I'm sorry,” he murmured. “I never meant to make you feel that way. Believe me, I got exactly what I wanted this afternoon.”

“But—”

“Hush.” He placed his forefinger on her lips. “All I wanted was to make you happy, and it seems
all I've managed is to make you sad. I was teasing you just now because if I can't have happy, then angry at least is better than sad.”

“Well, I'd prefer you didn't resort to such tactics again,” she mumbled into his chest.

Alex dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I promise. Now then…” He searched for a new topic. “Have you ever seen a room empty out so quickly? It seems that I was not the only one desirous of a private meeting between the two of us. I'd be willing to wager that my mother made it to the dining room in under ten seconds.”

“I've certainly never seen my aunt move so quickly before,” Emma returned with a wobbly smile. “And I thought Uncle Henry was going to take Belle by her hair.”

“Funny, but I'd have thought him above this.”

“You must be joking. Aunt Caroline can be quite formidable when she's in a temper. He wouldn't want to provoke her. He's much too fond of his peaceful existence. Besides, everyone is most anxious to see me settled. Not,” Emma said quickly, “that we—I have any plans to settle down soon. I have a business to run back in Boston, you know.” She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach even as she spoke the words. Hadn't she just decided that Alex was far more important to her than Dunster Shipping? “You shouldn't allow yourself to feel pressured, you know.”

Alex looked down at her with a strange expression on his face.

“Although I imagine one would find it difficult to pressure you into anything,” Emma continued, looking slightly forlorn.

Alex smiled wryly, wondering how much pressure would actually be required at this point to
get him to settle down. “Are you feeling better?” he asked simply.

Emma kept her eyes downcast. “I made quite a spectacle of myself, didn't I?”

“To which spectacle are you referring?”

She blushed at his obvious reference to her passionate behavior. “Actually, I was referring to my rather acute embarrassment after the fact.” She paused, forcing herself to look into his eyes. “I think I overreacted,” she said softly. “I'm sorry. I hope I didn't upset you.”

She looked up at him, her violet eyes wide with trust. At that moment, something inside Alex melted. He couldn't believe that she was apologizing to
him
for her embarrassment over their lovemaking earlier that afternoon. Proper young ladies were taught that any kind of premarital intimacy was akin to eternal damnation, and now that Alex no longer felt as if his body were about to explode, he was really quite impressed that Emma hadn't taken to her bed for a week.

“It's quite natural to feel confused by a new experience,” he said, feeling that he ought to say something to comfort her.