He’d hoped he might see her on Rotten Row, but after an hour squinting at every fair-haired lady in blue, he’d finally given up, and gone home to dress. When he’d arrived at the theater and noticed Lady Silvester and Lady Flora alone in Lady Crosby’s box, he’d convinced himself Lady Emma had left London.
He’d even persuaded himself he hoped it was so, until he saw her enter with Lady Crosby and take her seat, as cool as you please, dressed all in blue, the lights catching at the loose strands of her hair.
Before he could stop it, before he could question it, his chest swelled, and he took what felt like his first deep breath since he’d kissed her beneaththe rose arbor.
That kiss…it had changed everything.
Samuel jerked his gaze away from Lady Emma’s face, but after a day of being deprived of that face, it felt like losing a limb. Even after it was gone one could still feel it, a phantom remnant of something that had once been there, that one could never reconcile oneself to losing.
She’d never looked lovelier than she did tonight, her blue silk gown the exact same shade as her eyes, with her hair caught up in a simple blue silk ribbon, the pale, silky curls trailing over her white shoulders and brushing the bare skin of her neck.
“Stunning, isn’t she?” Lovell murmured in Samuel’s ear. “Aside from Flora’s, I’ve never seen a prettier face in my life than Lady Emma’s.”
Samuel grunted. “London is full of lovely faces. There’s nothing so special in hers.”
Lovell chuckled. “Then why can’t you look away from her? You’ve been staring at her since she sat down. Has the mighty Lord Lymington fallen victim to Cupid’s arrow, and been brought low bylove at last?”
“Love?Don’t be absurd, Lovell. I’m not in love with Lady Emma.”
It wasn’tlove. It was…well, he didn’t have any bloody ideawhatit was.
“Be careful, Lymington. Cupid makes the greatest fools of those who scorn his powers. If a manwereto fall in love, he could hardly choose better than Lady Emma.”
She half-turned toward them then, as if she’d heard them say her name, but she looked quickly away, delicate color washing over her cheeks.
“Ah, just look at that blush. She knows you’re watching her, Lymington. Come now, confess the truth. Lady Emma’s been driving you mad all season. She’s a beauty, and worse, just the sort of beauty you prefer.”
“You’re mistaken, Lovell. It’s you who prefers fair-haired, blue-eyed ladies, not me.” He’d never been particularly enamored of fair ladies, and he didn’t intend to start mooning over them now, no matter how distracting he found Lady Emma.
No matter that he couldn’t forget that kiss. Dreamed about that kiss—
“My fondness for fair-haired ladies was a momentary aberration, nothing more. I’ve always been partial to dark-haired beauties.” Lovell’s gaze lingered on Lady Flora, who was seated beside her friend. “But you know very well it’s not Lady Emma’s face that has you enthralled, Lymington.”
“What is it, then? Enlighten me, Lovell. Is it her slippery relationship with the truth? Her sharp tongue?” Her mouth, her lips…Samuel suppressed a shudder at the memory of her kiss, so soft, surprisingly so, tender and giving—
“No. It’s that she’s not afraid of you. Curious, really, that such a delicate lady should have turned out to have such a rigid spine, but there it is.” Lovell waved an airy hand.
As far as Samuel could tell, Lady Emma wasn’t afraid of anything at all. “She would have made an excellent naval commander.”
Lovell frowned. “No frontal assaults, Lymington. I forbid it.”
Samuel didn’t answer, his attention caught and held by Lady Emma, as it always was whenever she was near him. Had he kissed the soft skin behind her ear, fingered that errant curl that refused to lay smooth under the blue ribbon? If he hadn’t, he should have. He should have spent hours tracing those full red lips with his tongue, stroking that creamy skin and nuzzling his face into the fragrant curve of her neck, caressing those slender curves and inhaling the scent of vanilla and wild roses that clung to her—
Damn the woman. She was driving him mad. “I don’t deny she’s…attractive, but—”
“Attractive?” Lovell snorted. “That’s like saying the Mona Lisa’s smile ispleasing.”
“What is it about her face?” Samuel muttered, to himself more than to Lovell. “What’s so arresting about it? There are dozens of ladies here tonight who’s faces rival hers for beauty, and yet…”
Yet he hadn’t spared any of them so much as a glance.
It washerface that bewitched him,herface he couldn’tlook away from.
“Lady Flora is ravishing, isn’t she, Lymington?” Lovell let out a yearning sigh. “Those lovely dark eyes. I’ve always admired her eyes, but since we’ve been in London it’s as if I’m obsessed with them. I spend hours every day thinking about her eyes.”
Samuel seized his chance to turn the subject away from Lady Emma’s captivating face. “Lady Flora has turned those fascinating eyes your way more than once tonight. Dare I hope you’ve charmed you way back into her good graces?”
Lovell’s lips quirked in a tender smile as his gaze lingered on Lady Flora. “Charmed? No. Flora’s never been susceptible to my charms. Nothing but honesty will do for such a lady.”
