The younger Mossant girls squealed in delight upon seeing Cecily’s gown and the conversation devolved into raptures of fashion, fabric, and accessories.
Not exactly Emily’s favorite topics.
While the others chatted about Madam Chantal’s latest designs, Emily itched to take a closer look at the Prescott library. She’d not done any reading since their arrival and since she could finally see again, the collection of tomes beckoned.
And so, Emily rose quietly and edged out of the room while Coleus embarked upon describing, in excruciating detail, a gown she’d seen on display last week.
There were some days when being invisible had its advantages.
Emily slipped into the hallway and, without thought to anything other than exploring the shelves of books, skipped toward the library.
She’d barely caught a whiff of cigars and bergamot before she barreled into, and then bounced off of, a sturdy and muscular male person who’d ever so quietly slipped out of the billiard room. She landed quite unceremoniously upon her bottom.
Lord Carlisle!
The vicar promptly dropped to his haunches. “Miss Goodnight. My apologies. Are you hurt?”
A little stunned, she looked up into his eyes and realized the world had gone quite blurry again. No!
No!
No!
“Don’t move,” she ordered him. Where were they? “I’ve lost my spectacles.” She swore to herself that if they became broken again, she’d ride into town herself in order to procure another pair. This was becoming too ridiculous for words!
He stilled except for turning his head. “Right here.” Relief swept through her as he placed them in her hand.
He would not be so presumptuous, as Blakely had been, to slide them onto her face himself. Why must that rotter always intrude into her thoughts? Perhaps that kiss…
She fidgeted with the earpiece thoughtfully.
Some clever inventor needed to design a contraption that would keep them from flying from her face at every turn. She shook her head as though to clear her thoughts and then settled the spectacles back upon the bridge of her nose.
Only after the world took shape again did she accept the earl’s proffered hand and allow him to assist her to her feet.
“Are you quite all right, Miss Goodnight?” Staring into his startling blue eyes, she wondered how she’d never noticed what a good-looking gentleman he was before. She’d not considered him at all until hearing Rhoda’s prolific statements of admiration.
In fact, her friend’s insistence upon Lord Carlisle’s absolute goodness was nearly enough to convince Emily that Rhoda esteemed him herself. That would be problematic! She nearly giggled at the thought.
Rhoda and a vicar! Ha! What a laugh that was.
“Would you care to go somewhere and lie down? Shall I fetch a maid?” Oh, yes, Lord Carlisle had asked her something.
“No. I’m fine. How are you, my lord? I certainly hope I haven’t hurt you?” She’d run into him with considerable force.
He laughed. “I’m fine, Miss Goodnight.”
Emily stared at him for a moment. If Rhoda and Blakely were to ever elope, she’d better try to do something about her own circumstances. “Would you care to take a turn outside, Lord Carlisle?”
He’d not refuse her. He glanced out one of the windows. “In the rain?” But then he shrugged. “If that is what you wish. Why don’t you fetch your coat while I procure us a few umbrellas? We can meet in the foyer in…” He glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes?”
This was good. Yes, this was good.
Except then the door to the billiards room opened again and Prescott stepped out. He seemed a little surprised to see her standing with Lord Carlisle. “Miss Goodnight,” he acknowledged her in a friendly manner but also with a knowing look.
Emily took a moment to raise her brows at him but also dip her chin. He nodded. He would not share her request for information with anyone else. Emily felt relieved that he’d acknowledged this but also unnerved.
With a sideways glance in Carlisle’s direction, Prescott clasped his hands together and reverted to his normal, somewhat intimidating manner. “Is my duchess yet holed up in the drawing room with the other ladies?”
