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So all of the things that the old wizard had promised came to pass. Iron Heart lived in a wonderful castle with Princess Solace as his bride. He had purple and crimson clothes to wear, and there were servants everywhere to wait upon him. Of course, he still could not speak, for that would break the promise he’d made the wizard, but Iron Heart found that silence was not such a very bad hardship. After all, a soldier is rarely asked his opinion....
—from Iron Heart
“That scowl on your face does not become you,” Melisande murmured the next morning.
Emeline tried to smooth her forehead, but she had a feeling her irritation still showed through. She was watching Samuel, after all. “I wish you had come down yesterday instead of today.”
Melisande raised an eyebrow fractionally. “Had I known that you would pine for my company, I would’ve, dear. Is that why your mood is so gray?”
Emeline sighed and interlocked her arm with her friend’s. “No. My mood has nothing at all to do with you except as you make me feel calmer.”
They stood on the long mown lawn at the back of Hasselthorpe House. Half of the house party had assembled here for target shooting, the other half having chosen to go into the nearby town to see what sights there were. Painted canvas targets were being erected at the far end of the lawn by footmen. Behind the targets were straw bundles to catch the balls that were fired. The gentlemen who intended to participate were standing about showing off their weapons to admiring ladies who were, of course, to be the audience.
“Mr. Hartley’s gun is awfully long,” Melisande commented. “No doubt that is why you are glaring at him so ferociously.”
“Why does he have to stand apart?” Emeline muttered. She picked fretfully at her rose and green striped skirts. “It’s as if the man goes out of his way to be different from the other gentlemen. I declare he does it just to aggravate me.”
“Yes, that’s probably the first thing he thinks about when he wakes in the morning. ‘How shall I go about aggravating Lady Emeline today?’”
Emeline looked at her friend, who was staring back with innocent wide brown eyes. “I’m being a ninny, aren’t I?”
“Now, dear, I didn’t say ninny—”
“No, but you didn’t have to.” Emeline sighed. “I brought something that I want to show you.”
Melisande looked at her, brows raised. “Oh?”
“It’s a book of fairy tales that my old nanny used to read to us. I found it recently, but I think it’s written in German. Can you translate it for me?”
“I can try,” her friend said. “But I won’t promise anything. My German is only fair, and there are many words I don’t know. A product of learning it from my mother and not a book.”
Emeline nodded. Melisande’s mother had been a Prussian who had never entirely learned English, despite marrying at the age of seventeen, and Melisande had grown up speaking both German and English. “Thank you.”
The targets in place, the last footman began to walk toward the shooting party. The gentlemen bent their heads together in a grave manner, evidently deciding in what order they should shoot.
“I don’t know why he causes all intelligent thought to flee my mind.” Emeline realized she was glowering at Samuel again.
Unlike the other gentlemen, he didn’t make a show of aiming his weapon and such. He held his rifle with the butt resting on the ground as he stood casually, one hip cocked. He caught her eye and nodded, unsmiling. Emeline looked quickly away, but she could still see in her mind’s eye his plain brown coat, the now-familiar dull leather leggings, and the wind ruffling the hair on his bare head. Nothing about his dress recommended him. Even with the other gentlemen attired for shooting in the country, Samuel could’ve been a servant, so much more plain were his clothes. And yet, she had to exert her will to refrain from looking at him again.
She tugged at a bit of lace at her throat. “He kissed me yesterday.”
Melisande stilled. “Mr. Hartley?”
“Yes.” She could feel his eyes on her, even though she had not looked at him again.
“And did you kiss him back?” her friend asked as if she inquired the price of ribbons from a vendor.
“God.” Emeline choked on the word.
“I’ll assume that means yes,” Melisande murmured. “He is a handsome man, in a rather primitive way, but I wouldn’t’ve thought that he’d attract you.”
“He doesn’t!”
But her heart knew she lied. This was like a horrible fever. She actually grew flushed whenever he was near. She was quite unable to control her body—or herself—when around the awful man. Emeline had never felt this wild in her life, not even with Danny, and that thought made her bite her lip. Danny had been so young, so gay, and she had been young and gay with him. It didn’t seem right to have stronger feelings now for another man—a man not even her husband.
Melisande glanced at her skeptically. “Then you will avoid him in the future, no doubt.”
Emeline turned her head so that Samuel wasn’t in her line of sight at all. Instead, she stared at an ornamental pond behind the targets. It looked like it was filled with reeds. Lady Hasselthorpe should’ve had the pond cleared before the house party. Mrs. Fitzwilliam stood by herself near the bank, poor woman. “I don’t know what I’ll do.”
