Winterly (Dark Creatures Book 1), стр. 13
“For Heaven’s sake, lower your voice!” There was no doubt in Emma’s mind that the stranger had heard them.
The man’s features, though excessively grim, were handsomely chiseled and bold. In fact, he wanted only a smile to make him exceedingly attractive. She might have considered him the most handsome of men were it not for the harsh slant of his black brows or the cold glint of those dark eyes. Even the turn of his mouth she considered disagreeable.
“How romantic!” Milli whispered loudly.
“What is?” Emma found herself inspecting a pair of shiny Hessians that she had randomly picked up to disguise her motiveless presence there.
“The way he keeps staring at you, silly!” The choleric look Milli’s answer received did nothing at all to quell her transports of delight. “How very exciting! A coup de foudre!”
“Nonsense, it is not love at first sight.” She cast a furtive gaze over her shoulder to see that he was still watching her intently, his long fingers drumming casually on the arm of the chair he occupied. She lowered her eyes back down to the uninteresting boots. “At all events, he is more than likely looking at you.”
“Do you think me such a wet goose as to mistake the direction of a man’s regard? Believe me, if he were looking at me, I’d know it.” She nudged Emma’s shoulder with her own. “Moreover, if he were looking my way then it would be my cheeks in bloom and not yours. Even the lady beside him has noticed his attentions and is whispering in his ear even now.”
What lady had she overlooked? Emma glanced up, intrigued, but upon finally seeing the lady in question her stomach dropped with unfounded disappointment. How could Emma not have remarked that stunning creature before now? And how on earth was her meager looks to be measured against such an exotic nonpareil? A diamond of the first water. The lady was garbed in the highest fashion. Her carmine silk was elegantly embroidered and embellished with scalloped lace edging along the hem and sleeves. It draped beautifully over her lithe frame. Emma was positively dowdy by comparison.
Together they were the most elegant pair of patrician beauties Emma had ever beheld—seemingly made for one another. She watched from beneath her lashes as the lady leaned down to whisper again into the dark stranger’s ear, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she glanced over at Milli and Emma. His mouth, however, flattened in response to his lady’s remark.
Emma nowise wished to be considered self-deprecating, since another’s beauty had never inspired her resentment heretofore, nor would it ever again if she could help it! She did flatter herself that she was at least rational nine times out of ten and that being said, it was time to leave. She had no business here now that she’d satisfied her curiosity. Furthermore, she convinced herself, there was naught wrong with being plain—it was beneficial to the development of a good character. The world could not very well be peopled only by beautiful gauds. Beauty was nothing to intelligence.
There was no reason she and Milli should continue loitering in the shop like a pair of pullets gawking after the cock. And the weight of those dark eyes upon her person was tangling her nerves into knots. Yes, it was time to leave. But before Emma could put thought to action, her sister gave an excited gasp.
“Oh my!”
Emma fidgeted with the drawstring of her reticule as a feeling of sharp foreboding settled between her shoulders. “What is it now?”
“Quick! Pinch your cheeks, Emma! He’s coming this way!”
Chapter Seven
An Asylum in Chelsea
Milli had no sooner issued the warning, and taken it upon herself to pinch Emma’s cheeks into bloom, which Emma negatived with a few sharp slaps, when they were both startled from behind by a deep male voice.
“Miss Rose, what an unexpected pleasure.” Those rich and sultry tones Emma well remembered from the night of her rescue.
She gave a little gasp and spun around, her pinched cheeks aflame. She must have stammered an acceptable reply, for Lord Winterly answered with a leisurely bow—a nod really.
He gestured to the grinning woman beside him. “Allow me to introduce my sister, Miss Victoria Winterly.”
His sister! Emma gaped at the beauty. Unwonted relief filled her chest. Fortunately, she’d recovered enough to reciprocate the lady’s amiable curtsy and, likewise, introduced her own sister who was practically fidgety with anticipation.
After all devoirs were dutifully paid, Milli lifted her beaming smile to Lord Winterly. It was without the least ounce of savoir faire that she said, “Well, well, so you are the Ottoman prince I have heard so much about.”
“Milli!” Emma’s eyes bulged from their sockets.
But Milli forged on, heedless of her sister’s mortification. “Emma is quite certain you rescued her from the mad butcher himself.”
Lord Winterly’s sardonic gaze shifted from the younger sister to the eldest, his left brow lifting askance. “I thought you said you were accosted by a gypsy?”
Emma gave a pained smile and set her teeth. “You must not pay any attention to Milli”—she shot her sister a quelling look—“she does so love to embellish a story.”
“Ah.” With good grace, Lord Winterly inclined his head at Milli. “Miss Rose, I assure you, I saw no sign of any nefarious butchers”—he paused to exchanged a strange look with his sister—“mad or otherwise. And though I regret I cannot claim Ottoman sovereignty, I am, however, obliged to admit I have been suspected of both wicked monkery and knight errantry in a single night.”
“Never mind that,” said Milli, “I say, if you are not going to be a prince then you ought to at least be a viscount.”
“Happy to oblige you in that at least,” he replied, looking bored.
Emma, who by now deemed herself quite sufficiently humiliated, fumbled for her watch and conspicuously noted the time. “We really ought to go, it’s very late. Uncle will