Page 9 of The Mister I Married

She stared at him for a very long moment and then her gaze fell to her feet as she huffed out an unmistakably vexed sigh. “Well, that might be the most unsatisfying apology I have ever received,” she said pertly. “However, I know how difficult it can be for a man to admit to his mistakes, so I will not hold it against you. For your sister’s sake, at least.”

Humor tugged at Alex’s lips. “Thank you, Lady Emmaline,” he said softly. “You are a benevolent soul, indeed.”

Her gaze shot to his as a smile slowly dawned on her heart-shaped face, revealing a dimple in each cheek and making her gray eyes shine. It was an utterly infectious smile, artless yet disarming, and Alex found himself unable to resist it, his own lips curling up in an answering grin.

Their gazes held for a moment, and then her eyes flicked to his mouth before she turned away again and cleared her throat. “Speaking of your sister,” she said, her tone growing serious, “how is she doing? Is she truly all right after what happened last evening?”

Alex nodded, his gaze settling on Tess, who was giggling at something Lady Keswick seemed to be pointing out to her. Glancing up ahead, he spotted what had caught their eye: a chocolate poodle out for a stroll, wearing a bonnet and booties the same shade as its owner’s canary yellow gown.

“Yes, I think she is,” he said, battling an amused smile. “At least, she claims to be.”

And he believed her, for the most part. But he also knew how much last night’s encounter had upset her and he’d half-expected her to come to him and ask to leave London and go home to Berkshire. That she still wished to remain only confirmed her strength and determination, and while a part of him had secretly hoped she would ask to leave, he couldn’t help feeling proud, too. His little sister was growing into a smart, stalwart young woman.

“I’m glad,” Lady Emmaline said. “I hope what was said to her last night did not upset her too much. Those two”—she wriggled her fingers as if searching for the right word—“miscreants are not worthy of her time.”

“I agree,” Alex murmured, before stepping onto the street to allow the poodle and its mistress to pass. “I only hope their suspicions are not shared by everyone here. If I’d thought people would believe Tess was—”

He cut himself off, unable to voice the word aloud. Illegitimate. Such an unassuming word on its own, but when applied to a person, it took on a whole new meaning. An ugly one. The lords and ladies of the ton were an unforgiving lot, and any person born on the wrong side of the blanket would be cast out without so much as a regretful smile.

“I do not think anyone honestly believes your sister is…” Lady Emmaline trailed off with a flick of her hand, apparently just as reluctant as he was to use the word. “I don’t believe it, nor do I care. And neither does my mother, for that matter.”

Alex nodded, grateful for her support, though not entirely convinced by her optimism. He’d been reluctant to bring Tess to London, fearing society would judge her for their mother’s behavior, but it had never occurred to him they might suspect she was not her father’s daughter.

Perhaps it should have. Their mother had run off with a man who was not her husband, and such scandalous behavior did tend to make imaginations—and tongues—run wild. Even if there was no evidence to support the suspicion.

“I think it’s nice, by the way, how much you care about your sister,” Lady Emmaline said with a glance at him. “She is fortunate to have you.”

He gave her a tight smile, even as the compliment sent a bolt of guilt straight through him. “I tried to warn her that coming here might not be what she hoped it would be, but she insisted on coming. If I’d known, I would have—” He broke off with a quiet laugh and shook his head. “Who am I fooling? Even if I’d known, Tess would still have wanted to come, and I still would have given in.”

Lady Emmaline chuckled. “She is a sweet girl. I imagine it is quite difficult to deny her anything.”

“Nearly impossible,” he replied. “I only hope she never realizes it.”

“I suspect she already does.”

He flicked a glance at her. “Do you?”

She shrugged one shoulder as he’d done earlier, her smile rueful. “Your sister is sweet, but she is also astute. Just be grateful she does not abuse her power.”

Alex cocked a brow. “You’ve formed your opinion of my sister rather quickly, considering you only met her a fortnight ago.” Not that she was wrong, of course. Tess was sweet and astute.

“I am astute, as well,” she replied with equanimity.

Alex suppressed a smile. He liked her forthright manner, and the subtle confidence that surrounded her. He liked her more and more by the moment.

“I noticed that,” he said, “which is part of the reason why I think Tess would benefit from your friendship. She needs another woman in her life, one who would influence her in a positive way.”

She eyed him. “And you believe I would fill that role?”

“I do,” he said. “And others, I think, would agree with me. Everybody seems to like you and respect you.”

“Well, I am the sister of a marquess.”

“The gracious and charming sister of a marquess,” he corrected, sliding her a sidelong glance as he said it.

Her response was not what he expected. She laughed.

And it wasn’t the feather-light giggle of a practiced flirt or the restrained titter of a modest maiden. It was a proper laugh, loud, throaty, and gloriously unfettered. He drank in the sight of it even as he fought to contain his own laughter, though he hadn’t a clue what was so funny.

“For shame, Mr. Whitcomb,” she scolded, her voice still tinged with laughter. “I am neither gracious nor charming, and the most important rule for cajolery is to ensure there is at least a driblet of truth to it.” She laid the tips of her fingers on his forearm, her touch humming along his skin even through his velvet day coat, and he nearly stumbled on the pavement.

“Fortunately for you,” she went on, “I had already decided to help your sister.”

Her hand fell away from his arm and Alex actually felt his muscles relax. What the devil was the matter with him? All this dirty London air must have gone to head.

“Thank you, Lady Emmaline,” he said, his voice an embarrassing rasp. He cleared his throat. Get it together, man.

“Please, call me Emmy,” she said with a beseeching smile. “I detest Emmaline.”

“Emmy, then.” The nickname suited her far better. He liked it. “And I’m Alex.”

Her smile widened and then she faced forward again, and the two fell into a companionable silence as they walked beneath the warm spring sun. He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, his gaze trained on the street ahead, satisfaction swelling in his chest.

He’d never met a woman quite like Lady Emmaline—Emmy, rather—but he liked her honesty, her forthright and friendly nature, and he was glad to have her on his family’s side.

Tess could use a champion, a friend, and if anyone could help make her first London Season a success, it would undoubtedly be Emmy Keswick.