The Heir and the Spare by Maya Rodale Page A

in his arms. Perhaps she was getting accustomed to him now, since she could actually manage to speak easily to him.
    “Yes, they are a bit of a walk from here,” he replied.
    “Do you go often?”
    “No. I haven’t been there since I was a child.”
    “Was it frightening to do so all alone?”
    “I was with my brother, actually.”
    “I didn’t know you had a brother. Neither you nor anyone else has mentioned him.” This was good, she thought. She was learning more about him.
    “He is no longer with us,” Phillip replied.
    “I’m so sorry,” Emilia whispered. “I had always wanted a sibling. To have lost your brother must be quite distressing.”
    “Quite,” Phillip said, looking away. He clearly did not want to discuss it further, and she was starting to get the distinct impression that at the moment he would rather be anywhere else than waltzing with her. And then, as usual, she tripped over his boots and fell against his chest.
    “I’m sorry. I’m a bit clumsy,” she said.
    “Yes, you really ought to work on that,” he said. She stared up at his smooth, pale skin stretched over those exquisite cheekbones, that mouth, those brown eyes looking down at her. Suddenly he did not seem so handsome to her. “Only for your own safety,” he said, slightly flustered, as if he realized how horrid he had sounded. “I say that only out of concern for you, because I . . . I care about you.” His voice sounded mechanical.
    Hmmph, Emilia thought to herself. She did not know how to interpret that.
    After that, Lord Knightly asked her to dance. Dejected, she refused, saying she was a wretched dancer.
    “That shall make our dance all the more exciting, then,” he said, offering his hand.
    “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said, smiling.
    “You aren’t a wretched dancer,” Knightly said after a moment.
    “ Shhh. I am counting the steps in my head,” she said, and, losing her concentration, stepped on his boot. She offered him a sheepish smile.
    “Don’t worry about it. I’ve experienced far worse, as I have three sisters and was forced to be their dance partner during their lessons.”
    “Three sisters! That must have been so much fun. I am an only child, and always wished for sisters.”
    “I would never wish three sisters upon anyone,” he said, though it was clear as day that he loved them and would do anything for them.
    “Lord Huntley was just telling me that he had lost his brother,” she said.
    “Did he?” Knightly asked, with far more interest than she thought the comment warranted.
    “Yes. He said it was very unfortunate.”
    “Of course he did,” Knightly murmured, looking over at Phillip with narrowed eyes. “Miss Highhart—” he started.
    “Yes?” she asked, as the song was concluding.
    “You are an excellent dancer when you don’t think too much about it.”
    “Thank you, Lord Knightly. Or perhaps it’s not me, but my dancing partner.”
    Emilia sat out the next dance with her aunt and Lady Stillmore, half listening to their gossip, but mostly watching Annabelle and her fiancé. Her friend seemed completely and utterly happy. And the way he gazed down at her as they whirled around in each other’s arms was enough to nearly make her own knees weak. Emilia wasn’t really jealous, though she may have experienced a pang; it seemed impossible to wish anything but the very best for a girl like Annabelle. But Phillip had been courting her for weeks now, and save for a moment here and there, he never looked at her with anything even remotely resembling desire.
    And not only that, she thought, crossing her arms over her chest and getting angry, he didn’t approve of females reading. Many men held the same opinion, but to think she, who loved it so much, fancied herself in love with a man who believed it damaged their brains.
    And yes, she was often clumsy, and she really ought to work on that, if only for her own safety. But to mention it so condescendingly! Surely, it was