Of Night and Dark Obscurity

“Because I know you. I’ve known you for ten years,” Emmeline replied. “I believe there was a maid, the music hall girl, the governess—not yours of course—the married countess . . .” She ticked them off on her fingers and then stopped.

“Quite illuminating and flattering that you remember so much,” he said, looking at her closely. “But you don’t know me, Emme.”

“Suffice it to say you’ve been with too many women to count.”

Everett said nothing, but his eyes scanned her from head to toe. “Come now. I’m simply a man with a normal appetite for female companionship. As you said, we’ve known each other ten years, and there has never been anything between us.”

“Because I don’t feel that way toward you.”

“Oh, I see. The cold maid.”

“Not at all. I could be warmed by the right man.”

Everett smiled as he walked toward her. “Is the right man Nigel?”

“We’re friends. That’s all.”

He came to stand beside her and plucked a curl from her shoulder, rubbing it between his fingers.

“Don’t.” She took a step away from him. “It’s the one thing I truly dislike about you.”

Everett frowned. “What is that?”

“Your need to compete against Nigel. Don’t. You already have everything. You’ll inherit the title and the money; your father respects you. Your sister adores you.”

“And you?”

“I like you sometimes,” Emmeline admitted.

“And Nigel?”

“I’ve just said. I like him as well.”

“How well?”

“Well enough.”

“Well enough to marry him?” Everett asked, suddenly serious.

“Marriage? That’s never been discussed.”

“Because he doesn’t know how to approach you.”

“Just because you’ve had every woman in London, don’t put your brother down for being more circumspect.” She bristled.

“Not every woman, Emme,” he teased her.

“No. Not every woman,” she corrected.

“He would ask you. If the nerve ever overtook him.”

“Well then, I would give him the respect of an answer.”

“Which would be?” he pressed.

“Not your concern.”

“Emme.”