Free The Time Keeper (The Guardians of Time Book 1) by Kate Harre Page A

of time management.
     
    *
     
    When Emilia arrived at the café, Seb was already seated at an outside table, dark shades covering his eyes.  One ankle rested casually on his opposite knee, with what looked like a sketchbook balanced on his legs.  Looking up, he saw her approaching and hastily flipped the book closed, before shoving his glasses up on his head.
    ‘I’ve ordered coffees,’ he said as she slid onto the chair beside him.  ‘Did you want anything to eat?’
    ‘No, thanks.’  She breathed in deeply, enjoying the fresh air redolent with the scent of the jasmine plants in the garden behind them.  ‘Ahhh, perfect.  Thanks for meeting me here.  I wilt without the sun.’
    He tugged a hank of her hair, which was hanging loosely down her back, fingering the silky strands.  ‘That explains the limp hair.’
    ‘Hey!’  She jerked away from him, self-consciously patting her hair to see if he was right.
    Seb chuckled.  ‘I was teasing, Angel.  You look beautiful… as always.’
    ‘Uh, thanks,’ she said awkwardly.  That was twice now he’d told her she was beautiful and it was still as disconcerting as the first time.  She pulled a manila folder out of her bag and plonked it on the table.  ‘I’ve printed off some images of how we need to be dressed and also an invitation I found.’
    A waiter delivered their coffees and Seb waited until he’d moved onto another table before opening the folder.  He fingered the pages, carefully examining the details, including the notes Emilia had written beside the images regarding fabric types.
    ‘You’re going to look fantastic,’ he said absently; then he turned to the next page.  He visibly blanched and swore colourfully.  ‘ I’m going to look bloody ridiculous!’
    Emilia bit back a smile, which she knew he wouldn’t appreciate.  ‘Have a little faith, Sparky.  You’ve got the height and the broad shoulders to really pull this off.’
    Seb glowered darkly at her, whether because he didn’t agree or because she’d used her new nickname for him, she didn’t know.  He flicked hurriedly past the rest of the costume pages until he reached the page she’d printed off of an elaborate invitation she’d found on the Internet.
    He studied it carefully.  ‘Shouldn’t be too difficult to reproduce.’
    ‘This was a real invitation to the weekend festivities put on by the Duke and Duchess of Ulbrey, to celebrate the betrothal of their eldest son, the Marquis of Dunbridge.  It was the event of the 1811 Season and these invitations were highly coveted.’
    ‘I can’t imagine why,’ Seb shared sourly.
    ‘Back then it was important to be seen at the right events and besides, a man of your age would have been eager to be in attendance so he could peruse that Seasons debutantes and select a wife from the best pickings!’
    Seb shuddered but didn’t comment further.
    Emilia smiled and couldn’t resist a gentle tease.  ‘What?  You don’t want the perfect wife?’
    ‘I don’t want a wife period ,’ he bit out, his eyes unfriendly.  Emilia was dying to follow up that intriguing comment but his expression didn’t invite further discussion.  Sensitive to his mood, she opted to leave him be for the moment.
    ‘Not the marrying kind – duly noted.  Okay, so as we talked about the other day, we’re going to go with the brother sister relationship.  Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you should use my surname,’ she said carefully and wasn’t surprised when his brow lifted in surprised query.
    ‘What’s the matter with Gates?’
    ‘Nothing, but for this era and the kind of wealth and status we’re going to be mingling with, I think Delcourt is more appropriate.’
    ‘Yeah, it does reek of excessive riches and snobbery… Angel .’  His eyes glinted with amusement and Emilia, relieved at his return to good humour, decided to let his unsubtle dig at her go.
    ‘I’m glad we’re in agreement,’ she replied loftily.