Free An Infamous Proposal by Joan Smith Page B

atone for my lapse. My, she’s ugly, isn’t she?”
    James danced well and seemed to Nick to make a determined effort not to watch Emma—until the waltzes began. Then he was at her side so quickly one would think he had been shot from a pistol.
    “At last!” he exclaimed, drawing her into his arms to whirl her about the floor like a caper merchant. He held her much too closely, he showered her with a hundred lavish compliments, and, as the music ended, he tucked her hand under his elbow and walked off to the refreshment parlor, where he had arranged with the butler to have a bottle of Nick’s best champagne set aside for himself and Emma.
    “Bring it to the library,” he ordered, then led Emma down the marbled hall to this spacious chamber, with a servant following them with the wine.
    One elderly couple sat by the grate. James settled Emma on a small sofa, well apart from them, snagged two glasses of champagne, and sat beside her.
    “To us!” he toasted, adding very quickly and very earnestly, “Do you believe in love at first sight, Lady Capehart?” he asked in his gentle voice.
    “No. I believe in fascination at first sight.”
    “Surely that is redundant. Fascination is the casting of a spell at a glance—usually reserved for serpents, I believe. We have fascinated each other, ça va sans dire. What we must discover is whether it is love.”
    She disliked that charge of mutual fascination, but decided not to challenge it. “We shan’t discover that in one evening, Lord James,” she said instead.
    “Lord me no lords, and I shall lady you no ladies. Jamie and Emma. It is much too soon for it, but I feel I have known you forever ... in my dreams.” He touched his glass to hers and drank. “The names have a certain je ne sais quoi. Euphonious, if not mellifluous.”
    “Let us not rush rashly into things, Lord James.”
    “Ah, I see Cupid’s arrow has not cut so deeply into your heart as into mine. But it has nicked you, Emma. Say it has. You feel something for me.”
    “We shall see about that,” she said, but an encouraging smile peeped out to belie her show of reluctance.
    He smiled, satisfied. “I daresay a lady likes to put up a token show of resistance. It is odd that my own back is not arched, for usually when I am dispatched about the country to seek a bride, I dig in my heels and dislike everything about the lady concerned. I came prepared to find you provincial and ugly, and instead I found—perfection.” He drew her fingers to his lips and kissed them.
    “And were you dispatched to Waterdown for the express purpose of courting me?” she asked in a calm voice that concealed her curiosity.
    “It was rather a case of being summoned on this occasion. The summons came from Hansard. ‘A wealthy, impatient widow in need of a husband,’ he said. What he did not say was that you are an Aphrodite.”
    “I see,” she said, and took a sip of her wine while she digested this. “Impatient widow!” He made her sound desperate for a man. She couldn’t decide whether to be angry with Nick or amused at his simple plan.
    Nick had seen James lead Emma toward the refreshment parlor. He felt they would be safe there for a few minutes, but uncertainty soon sent him pelting off after them. When he saw they weren’t there, he flew into alarm.
    “Have you seen Lord James?” he asked the servant behind the table.
    “His lordship had a bottle of champagne taken to the library, milord.”
    “Did he indeed!” His best champagne no doubt, the scoundrel! He darted off to the library, hardly knowing what he might find, only to see Emma and James sitting quietly at the side of the room, with an elderly couple seated by the grate to play propriety. He slowed his pace as he walked toward the sofa.
    “Well, and what are you up to?” he asked.
    “We were just discussing love,” James replied.
    “At first sight,” Emma added with a glinting smile. “Or should I say at first reading?” Nick realized