enjoyed Minerva Press novels more than most, was clearly entranced. "And perhaps a ghost? I dearly love a ghost."
Emily's brows rose above the frames of her spectacles as she considered the addition of a ghost to The Mysterious Lady. "Ghosts are always an excellent thing in a tale of adventure and romance. But it is difficult to find things to rhyme with ghost. One always ends up with toast or boast."
"Or roast," Simon offered.
Miss Hornsby, who had earlier accepted a glass of sherry instead of tea, giggled. Lavinia Inglebright shot her a quelling frown. She opened her mouth to suggest another possible rhyme but was interrupted by the sound of carriage wheels and horses' hooves in the drive. She looked at Emily in surprise. "I do believe you have visitors."
Emily went very still, her glance flying to Simon's unperturbed face. She almost never had visitors and everyone in the drawing room knew it. "My father and brothers, no doubt." So Elias Prendergast's letter had reached London and had had the expected result. "I was not expecting them." Not now. Not so soon.
But Simon, who obviously knew precisely what she was thinking, merely smiled his inscrutable smile and sipped his smoky Lap Seng.
There was the stamp of booted feet in the hall, the drone of impatient masculine voices, and a moment later the drawing room door was thrown open.
The three magnificent Faringdon men strode into the room like three gilded whirlwinds. Tall, handsome, and dressed to the nines in the latest riding clothes, they all looked dashingly disheveled from their journey. The twins, Devlin and Charles, quickly scanned the group for a pretty female face and, upon finding none to their liking, glowered at Simon.
Broderick Faringdon, Emily's father, was losing some of his hair and what he had left was turning from gold to silver, but he still managed to maintain the same stylish appearance as his sons. His hawklike nose and blue eyes together with his air of raffish dissipation still made him very attractive to women.
"Good afternoon, ladies. Blade."
As the ladies murmured a rush of polite greetings, Broderick Faringdon inclined his head brusquely at Simon.
Emily felt the sudden chill in the room. Something was very wrong. Her instincts told her there was more going on here than a disgruntled father dealing with an unapproved suitor. Her eyes flew to Simon.
But the dragon merely acknowledged her father's greeting with a mocking inclination of his head and went back to sipping his Lap Seng.
"Papa." Emily jumped to her feet. "You sent no word ahead. We did not know to expect you."
"I sent no word because I knew I'd be here before the post. Got a new stallion that can beat anything on four feet. Come and give your papa a proper greeting, miss."
Dutifully, Emily went toward him and gave him the requisite peck on the cheek. Then she stepped back, eyes narrowing. Now that the first shock was over, she was annoyed
at having her tea party interrupted. "Really, Papa, I do think you could have given me some warning."
"This is my home, girl. Why should I announce myself like a visitor?"
Behind Emily the covey of literary society ladies were quickly getting to their feet, preparing to leave.
"Really must be off," Priscilla Inglebright said. "Thank you so much for having us in this afternoon, Emily."
"Yes, a lovely treat," Miss Bracegirdle said stoutly as she picked up her reticule.
The farewells came fast and furious after that. Emily stood at the door with a determined smile on her face while she fumed inwardly. Her father and brothers had ruined everything. Only Simon was delaying his departure.
Out in the hall wraps were hastily donned and bonnets were quickly tied. In a moment all of the ladies were being handed up into the carriage Emily had ordered to take them to their respective residences.
A cold, dangerous silence descended on the drawing room.
Bloody hell, thought Emily. She whirled to confront her father. "Well, Papa, to what do
Emily's brows rose above the frames of her spectacles as she considered the addition of a ghost to The Mysterious Lady. "Ghosts are always an excellent thing in a tale of adventure and romance. But it is difficult to find things to rhyme with ghost. One always ends up with toast or boast."
"Or roast," Simon offered.
Miss Hornsby, who had earlier accepted a glass of sherry instead of tea, giggled. Lavinia Inglebright shot her a quelling frown. She opened her mouth to suggest another possible rhyme but was interrupted by the sound of carriage wheels and horses' hooves in the drive. She looked at Emily in surprise. "I do believe you have visitors."
Emily went very still, her glance flying to Simon's unperturbed face. She almost never had visitors and everyone in the drawing room knew it. "My father and brothers, no doubt." So Elias Prendergast's letter had reached London and had had the expected result. "I was not expecting them." Not now. Not so soon.
But Simon, who obviously knew precisely what she was thinking, merely smiled his inscrutable smile and sipped his smoky Lap Seng.
There was the stamp of booted feet in the hall, the drone of impatient masculine voices, and a moment later the drawing room door was thrown open.
The three magnificent Faringdon men strode into the room like three gilded whirlwinds. Tall, handsome, and dressed to the nines in the latest riding clothes, they all looked dashingly disheveled from their journey. The twins, Devlin and Charles, quickly scanned the group for a pretty female face and, upon finding none to their liking, glowered at Simon.
Broderick Faringdon, Emily's father, was losing some of his hair and what he had left was turning from gold to silver, but he still managed to maintain the same stylish appearance as his sons. His hawklike nose and blue eyes together with his air of raffish dissipation still made him very attractive to women.
"Good afternoon, ladies. Blade."
As the ladies murmured a rush of polite greetings, Broderick Faringdon inclined his head brusquely at Simon.
Emily felt the sudden chill in the room. Something was very wrong. Her instincts told her there was more going on here than a disgruntled father dealing with an unapproved suitor. Her eyes flew to Simon.
But the dragon merely acknowledged her father's greeting with a mocking inclination of his head and went back to sipping his Lap Seng.
"Papa." Emily jumped to her feet. "You sent no word ahead. We did not know to expect you."
"I sent no word because I knew I'd be here before the post. Got a new stallion that can beat anything on four feet. Come and give your papa a proper greeting, miss."
Dutifully, Emily went toward him and gave him the requisite peck on the cheek. Then she stepped back, eyes narrowing. Now that the first shock was over, she was annoyed
at having her tea party interrupted. "Really, Papa, I do think you could have given me some warning."
"This is my home, girl. Why should I announce myself like a visitor?"
Behind Emily the covey of literary society ladies were quickly getting to their feet, preparing to leave.
"Really must be off," Priscilla Inglebright said. "Thank you so much for having us in this afternoon, Emily."
"Yes, a lovely treat," Miss Bracegirdle said stoutly as she picked up her reticule.
The farewells came fast and furious after that. Emily stood at the door with a determined smile on her face while she fumed inwardly. Her father and brothers had ruined everything. Only Simon was delaying his departure.
Out in the hall wraps were hastily donned and bonnets were quickly tied. In a moment all of the ladies were being handed up into the carriage Emily had ordered to take them to their respective residences.
A cold, dangerous silence descended on the drawing room.
Bloody hell, thought Emily. She whirled to confront her father. "Well, Papa, to what do
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