Page 59 of Indecently Daring

“Miss Knight,” he said, and his deep voice thrilled through her as Humboldt indicated her presence to him and he finally turned her way. “I hope I find you well.”

Emmeline smiled, rather winded at being the focus of his attention, and then remembered herself, forcing her expression into something more impassive. She ought not to seem so delighted at seeing him. She could not afford to make her mother any more suspicious than she already was.

“Indeed you do, my lord, and it is a pleasure to see you looking so well also.”

His lips quirked, the smile mocking, though he said nothing. “Ah, forgive me, I am remiss. May I present this worthy fellow to you? Miss Knight, my long-suffering secretary, Mr Humboldt.”

Mr Humboldt was a small man, perhaps in his fortieth year, and more than a foot shorter than Wrexham, though sturdily built. He had thinning, sandy hair, a pleasant face, twinkling blue eyes, and a rueful expression that was at once apologetic and friendly.

Emmeline liked him at once.

“Mr Humboldt, how lovely to meet you at last,” she said, and then blushed furiously as she realised her Mama had no idea she had ever heard of Mr Humboldt, for she did not know her daughter had been writing to Wrexham. It was an odd thing to write letters for one man, knowing another would read them.

“The pleasure is entirely mine,” Humboldt replied, warmth in his expression and no little sympathy. The sympathy made Emmeline blush deeper, and she looked away, rattled.

“Please, won’t you sit down?” She directed them to the space on the settee beside her and a chair that was angled to the side. As she had hoped, Humboldt guided Wrexham to the settee beside her and took the chair.

“Lord Wrexham, it is good to see you,” Mama said, giving Emmeline a look that suggested she knew this visit was significant and they would be speaking later. Emmeline swallowed. “You are looking well.”

“I shall take your word for it, Lady Helena, but thank you. Humboldt here is tasked with informing me if I have unduly insulted my valet and he has turned me out in yellow and puce.”

“You always have been a dashing fellow, Wrexham,” Matilda said. “Nothing has changed from where we sit, I assure you.”

Wrexham inclined his head in thanks. “Montagu is well?”

“He is. He’ll be sorry not to have seen you. Your presence in society is missed. I hope this means we shall be seeing more of you? I should be delighted to return your name to our list of social engagements.”

Wrexham returned an enigmatic smile. “Perhaps.”

Matilda exchanged a glance with Helena before carrying on. “Montagu is at Holbrook at present. He had occasion to visit Dern for a few days and decided to surprise our daughter, Catherine. I’ll be joining him there for the Valentine’s night ball. Will you be going?”

“Lady St Clair was kind enough to invite me, yes.”

“Cavendish and I shall look forward to seeing you there,” Aashini said warmly. “And I don’t doubt Ashton will be delighted to rise to the occasion. You two always did enjoy outdoing each other with your choice of waistcoat.”

“Ah, but mine were always tasteful,” Wrexham said, his tone dry, making the ladies laugh.

Small talk drifted back and forth as the tea tray came in and for a while Emmeline despaired of getting even a word in private with the man beside her. But then Alice began telling them some tale of what her son-in-law, Bainbridge, had been up to of late. The ladies were so riveted by his exploits, Emmeline could turn her attention to Wrexham.

“My lord?”

“Have you changed your mind?” The words were prickly and clipped, Wrexham’s body stiffly upright beside her.

Though she had talked herself in and out of the decision a dozen times, the look of brittle pride upon his handsome face chased away her doubts. Emmeline shook her head and then scolded herself for an idiot.

“No!” she said firmly, her chest aching as she noticed the lines of tension around his eyes and mouth.

He hadn’t believed she would go through with it and was waiting for her to recant. The poor man had put himself through what he clearly regarded as an ordeal, just so she might tell him she had changed her mind. Emmeline glanced at her mama, seeing her completely absorbed by whatever absurd tale Alice was relating. She reached out and gave his hand a quick squeeze.

“No, Wrexham,” she said again, softer now. “I have not changed my mind.”

He let out a breath and his fingers tightened upon hers, not allowing her to withdraw them. Emmeline’s heart skipped and then did an odd little lurch behind her ribs as he smiled, the sight enough to set her stomach erupting with butterflies.

“Brave, foolish girl,” he whispered, the words so tender she felt certain her mother must be able to feel the heat from her burning cheeks. Lord, but this man set her all a-flutter.

“S-So after the ball, then?” she asked, wondering if she had quite lost her mind.

He nodded, releasing her hand. “Humboldt has made all the arrangements, don’t worry.”