He glanced down at her with a smirk. “Although, are you quite sure my nose is that big?”
Emmaline blinked, her mouth already forming a response, and then she realised he was teasing her.
Really? Perhaps big-headed was a more apt description.
She couldn’t resist a hint of mischief in response. “It is a noble nose, My Lord. It commands the room for sure.”
Lord Seton chuckled, bringing her hand to his lips and brushing a light kiss across her knuckles. “You have my measure, sweet Emmaline. I will think of that every time I look at the painting.”
He stepped back, crossing his arms to examine the artwork from a distance, nodding appreciatively.
She frowned, confused. “I thought the painting was to be sent to the Albany Club?”
He took a deep breath, blowing it out through his nose as he turned to her with a considering look.
“That was the plan, but I find I cannot part with it. I will hang it in the gallery next to my parents. The Albany Club will have to wait.”
He cocked his head, gaze growing distant. “I think they would have liked you, my parents.”
Emmaline felt her stomach dip, confusion buzzing along her nerves. She sensed something had changed, but the fear of hope made her step away, towards the door.
“Well, if that is all, Lord Seton, I will leave you. Thank you for your hospitality during my stay.”
“No, Miss Winters, that is not all.”
His voice was different. Sure and commanding now. Her feet halted mid-step.
“Excuse me?”
Lord Seton extended a hand towards her, motioning towards the settee in front of the fire.
“Please, sit with me. I want to discuss something with you.”
Emmaline hardened her heart and raised her chin, determined to listen as long as was polite before she made her escape. She needed to be away from this man, she needed to forget him.
Perching herself on the far end of the couch, she waited for him to join her. Keeping her face impassive.
He sat down far too close, and a frisson of excitement flashed through her, despite her determination.
Drat the man.
“Emmaline,” he took her hand in his, drawing it into his lap. “Your work here is finished. You are no longer employed in this household.”
“Yes, that is correct,” she murmured, with no clue where this line of conversation was going.
Lord Seton stared down at their hands, his fingers tracing along the length of hers, testing the calloused tips and drawing circles along her palms, while Emmaline fought the urge to curl her hand, to hide herself from him.
“It’s been so hard to keep my distance, but I hope you can understand, it was the right thing to do.”
“I… What are you saying, My Lord?” Emmaline felt her heart stutter.
“Benedict, remember?” he said, leaning close and brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his breath ghosting along her neck as her pulse thrummed with agitation.
“Mi sono innamorata.I have fallen for you, Emmaline, my heart is yours.”
Her heart stopped, her mind spinning as the words slowly formed meaning.
CHAPTER TWELVE
