Page 46 of The Dare Before Christmas

Emmeline frowned and turned her attention to the letter, breaking the seal. “I expect he dictates to a secretary. Lots of men don’t actually put pen to paper. Papa doesn’t write all his letters, there’s far too many.”

Hurriedly, Emmeline unfolded the letter and read the contents.

“You’re blushing,” Torie observed.

“Hush,” Emmeline said, chewing her lip as she read, hardly believing the wicked man could be so very forward. Oh, he was so… so…. She looked up to find Torie staring at her.

“Tell me everything,” Torie said. “Because if the look on your face is anything to go on, you’ll be joining me in ruination any day now.”

Emmeline’s blush deepened, but she told Torie about finding Wrexham out in the snow, about guiding him to the inn, and….

“He kissed you!” Torie exclaimed, shocked.

“Only on the cheek,” Emmeline said, rather defensively.

“He’s blind, he probably just missed.”

“No, he didn’t!” she retorted, irritated. “If he’d meant to kiss me properly, he would have. It was more—”

“If you say affectionate, I shall laugh in your face,” Torie warned.

Emmeline huffed. “I know it wasn’t affectionate. I was going to say it felt more like a promise.”

“A promise of what?” Torie demanded. “Disaster?”

Emmeline laughed, handing over the letter to her friend. “Trouble, certainly, if his letter is anything to go by.”

Torie read, laughing and exclaiming at Wrexham’s audacity. “Trouble indeed. My word, Emmeline, promise me you’ll never be alone with this man. Blind or not, he’s a wicked seducer, any fool can see that.”

“He is not,” Emmeline said, annoyed by the comment. “He’s a bit wicked, I grant you, and I do believe it is in his nature to flirt and tease. It’s as natural to him as breathing, but Torie, I think he’s in trouble. I think a lot of that teasing and bantering is a way of hiding the truth.”

“And what is the truth?”

“I don’t know, but he says in the letter we have much to discuss. He asked yesterday if he might call upon me, and I got the feeling he needed someone to confide in. I promised him he could trust me to keep his secrets, and so, if he confides in me, I shall do what I can to help him.”

“Emmeline, you know his father is that awful man, the Duke of Sefton. Everyone knows he and Wrexham loathe each other, and don’t you remember how vile the duke was to Cara? I should hate for you to get on the wrong side of him too. I can only imagine the trouble he could cause you if he thought you were taking his son’s part in whatever war they’re waging. Are you certain you know what you’re doing?”

Emmeline laughed. “Oh, Torie, I don’t have the least clue what I’m doing, and I certainly don’t want to attract Sefton’s notice, but I can’t just leave Wrexham alone. He’s all but disappeared from society, from what I gather, so perhaps he doesn’t have anyone else. I know I ought not, but I can’t stop worrying about him. He’s on my mind all the time, and—”

“And you’re smitten,” Torie said with a heavy sigh.

“No. Nothing like that.”

Torie pulled a face. “You can’t stop thinking about him, but you’re not smitten. Mm-hm!”

“I’m not! I’m only….” Emmeline looked at Torie’s patently disbelieving expression and scowled, considering her words. Could it be more than concern she was feeling? Emmeline remembered the touch of Wrexham’s lips on her cheek and her heart began an odd little dance in her chest. “Oh, drat and botheration. Torie, you’re right. I am smitten! Oh, the wretched man.”

“Yes, you are.”

Emmeline put her head in her hands. Something told her this was not like her usual infatuations that came and went in a matter of weeks. Wrexham was nothing like the sort of men she usually got all dreamy and stupid over, for one. They were usually bookish, intellectual types who liked poetry and discussing art. She did not know if Wrexham liked books or art, let alone poetry, but from what she had gathered of him before he went blind and disappeared from society, he had been a very physical man. Riding, boxing, fencing… if there was a sport to excel at, he was the best. As for his reputation with women, the little she had learned had put her to the blush. This was not the kind of man she had ever been interested in. Libertines were dangerous and even if, by some miracle, they really loved you, a man like that would inevitably cause trouble. Evie had illustrated that truth in the boldest of colours. But despite knowing this to be the reality of the situation, there was something about the marquess that called to Emmeline. He was just so very intriguing and like no one she had ever met before and she… she was smitten. Oh, this was very bad.

“This is most inconvenient. How did it even happen?” she demanded of Torie, who simply shrugged, her expression one of sympathy.

“The same way it always does. With a man. And now we’re both in the basket,” Torie said with a groan, and handed Emmeline back her letter.

Emmeline sighed and then sat up, brightening as a thought occurred to her. “I know what we ought to do.”

“Join the circus?” Torie suggested.