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 be wondering where we are.”
“Where is your coach?” Miss Winterly inquired.
“We haven’t one,” said Milli happily. She knew very well they had planned to take a hackney back to Cheapside but made no mention of this fact to the patrician siblings.
“Then you must allow us to escort you home.” Miss Winterly peered through the window at the black sky. “It appears quite dastardly out there already.” The caveat no sooner left her lips than the sky opened up with a fulsome rumble, loosing its torrents to rush slantways at the shop window.
With a woebegone sigh, Emma tore her gaze from the window. “Miss Winterly—”
“Please do not stand on ceremony. You must call me Victoria. Near death circumstances have made us anything but strangers.”
Emma nodded, thus obliged to offer the woman the use of her first name as well. “It is just that we would not wish to impose.”
“Not at all,” said Victoria. “I shall esteem it a favor. My brother is very dull today and I am in need of pleasanter company.”
Both Milli and Emma glanced up at her inscrutable brother. “Very well,” said Emma.
“Capitol!” Victoria then arranged for Milli’s packages to be collected from the boutique across the road by the stoic-looking footmen.
The ladies rushed outside where Lord Winterly awaited, heedless of the rain, to hand them one by one into his carriage. Inside the conveyance they were seated vis-à-vis with Emma facing the formidable armiger himself. That brief contact, when he’d handed her up, had unsettled her entirely too much despite the fact that both their hands were gloved. She could have sworn she’d felt some strange current passing between them.
The carriage ride was interminable, Lord Winterly’s penetrating looks and reticence having completely frayed her nerves by the time the steeple of Bow Church finally came into view. Emma sighed her relief. Just a little further now. Only Milli and Victoria seemed at their ease, beguiling the time with light chatter.
Lord Winterly’s silence gave every indication that he thought the two sisters personae non gratae, doubtless rueing Emma’s penchant for requiring constant rescue, either from gypsies or inclement weather. She kept her eyes averted, studying the people and the streets outside, unwilling to acknowledge him even with an inconspicuous peek.
At last, she thought, there was the coffee house where her uncle usually liked to take his snuff and eat his sandwiches during business meetings. But seeing as it was now past business hours, the place was shut up. Only a little ways further. Thankfully the rain had let up; traffic was always terrible, but when it rained it was unbearable.
When the carriage rolled to a stop, Emma closed her eyes and sent up a thankful prayer that they had finally arrived. But she forestalled herself from leaping at the door by curling her fingers into the plush seat. Lord Winterly’s presence was anything but innocuous and she felt herself compelled by that most basic need to flee what threatens. Why was that? He was perfectly civil, content to let his sister to do all the talking. Emma chanced to look up at him and suddenly found herself caught in his black, assessing gaze. A very potent gaze that she was ill-equipped to answer.
“Why have we stopped?” Victoria was peering through the window curiously. “Is this where you live?” She looked to Milli for an answer.
“No, it is just over that rise. I cannot think why—”
“An accident up ahead,” Lord Winterly interjected with what she was coming to believe was his usual indolence. “It seems we must go on foot from here.”
How could he possibly know that? Emma tried in vain to descry the purported accident, but saw no sign other than the traffic congestion.
“Walk in all that mud?” said Victoria.
“My lord,” said the footman, appearing suddenly to open the door, “there is an accident up ahead.”
Lord Winterly nodded at his gaunt footman, preparing to climb out.
“Please do not trouble yourselves,” Emma asserted cheerfully, before Victoria got it into her head to suggest they all wait inside the stuffy coach, “Milli and I shall continue the rest of the way on foot.” After all, the house was a no more than a mile from their current location.
“Capitol!” Victoria grabbed Milli’s hand excitedly. “My brother and I will walk you to your door.”
Emma forbore rolling her eyes, or glancing towards the imposing viscount, as she disembarked in a hurry. Once the rest of the occupants had alighted, she made to walk beside her sister, but, alas, Milli was promptly commandeered by Miss Winterly. Their arms were linked like old friends and they were whispering confidentially as they moved along the narrow pavement, leaving her to follow with Lord Winterly.
Why did he have to be so achingly beautiful? She’d been far more sure of herself when the night had concealed his beauty. Oh, what a shallow peagoose she’d become! Thankfully he was not privy to her unbecoming thoughts, nor did he appear inclined to distract her from them with idle conversation.
Perhaps she had looked prettier under the gaslights and that was why he had been friendlier? Emma shook her head, exasperated at herself. The man had rescued her and seen her safely home, and to expect anything more from him was ridiculous. After today she would never see him again. In the meantime, she would endeavor to regard with distaste the symmetry of his excellent features.
Unaccountably tickled by her own silliness, Emma hid a facetious grin behind her knuckles and shook her head. She was not some piffling pullet, to be so easily beguiled by pretty feathers. And to prove she was no longer intimidated by him, she would think of something outrageous to say.