Winning the Viscount’s heart (Regency Romance) (Regency Lords Book 2) by Regina Darcy Page B
Authors: Regina Darcy
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Oh, of course,” she replied with a dreamy lopsided grin. Lord Blackwood’s eyebrows furrowed at her distance.
“Thank you, Miss Knight.” He held out his hand and she placed hers in it. He looked down at their joined hands and breathed in deeply before leading her to the dance floor.
The band began to play. This song was one that they had clearly been saving, for it was the lightest tune of the evening. It seemed to lift Emmeline’s spirits even higher, even as she was not fully present for it. In mind if not in body, she was with her imagined Count de Coligny , living her dearest fantasy. If Lord Blackwood held her hand a little tighter than was considered polite, or caressed the underside of her gloved wrist with his thumb for a brief, blissful moment, she did not notice. Nothing could distract her from her daydreams. Her very own fairy tale had just begun.
CHAPTER 2
“Well, now. You seem a bit frustrated,” Archibald said, to his sister, as he sat down at a nearby chair in the drawing room of the Knight residence.
“Yes, I feel that way,” Emmeline replied with a twitching brow. Watercolours were not a favourite pastime of hers. But they were an accomplishment she intended to add to her list of skills. “You see, the wings of a bird are quite lovely in flight, or even perched on a branch, but in art, they are simply unbearable.”
“Then why subject yourself to such torture?”
“They say that drawing improves the mind, Archibald,” she said. “Perhaps you should try it.”
“Ah, and it has nothing to with mother saying such skills make you more marriageable?”
“I am perfectly marriageable, and I refuse to allow a bird with such lopsided feathers to determine whether that statement is true or not.”
“My apologies. With your sudden interest in matrimonial affairs and constant pining over that Count we have yet to meet, I imagined that there was some sort of correlation.”
Emmeline sighed and placed her watercolours down. “I don’t have a chance, have I?”
“Considering the object of your affections is thus far imaginary, I would say that you have as much a chance as you think you do.”
“He is not imaginary, Archibald,” she snapped. “He is very real and has shown his character well enough through the very action of coming here. Clearly, he is seeking the company of the humbler genteel of the countryside. I am sure that father will call on him soon, and then we will meet and then… well, I am not sure what then, but I know it will be perfectly romantic.”
“And you are so sure this magical meeting will occur at all?”
“You can hardly spend a season in Berkshire without meeting the Knight family, at least once,” Emmeline said loftily. “We are fairly well known, are we not?”
“And if he came for humble young ladies, he will surely find them here,” Archibald said with a mischievous grin.
A rosy-cheeked servant entered with a calling card on a platter. “Miss Emmeline, Mr. Archibald,” he said, “Mr. Knight has requested your presence downstairs.”
Archibald crossed the room to the platter and Emmeline jumped out of her seat. “Who is it? Archibald, quick, look!”
He shot her an amused look, eyebrow raised. “Please do not get your hopes so high so quickly, dear sister.”
“Oh, hush and just look!”
“Fine, fine,” her brother said. He picked up the calling card and, for a moment, the world stood still. Archibald exhaled in a long breath and Emmeline watched, heart caught in her throat. “Goodness,” he murmured.
“Archibald, stop with your theatrics and just tell me who it is!”
“Well, Emmeline,” he said, holding out the card, “it seems your prince has come calling.” On the card, the words Le Comte de Coligny were embossed in deep black ink.
“De Coligny—that’s him! The Count! What could have drawn him here so quickly?” Emmeline exclaimed excited.
“Rumours of your level-headed manner, no doubt,” Archibald
“Thank you, Miss Knight.” He held out his hand and she placed hers in it. He looked down at their joined hands and breathed in deeply before leading her to the dance floor.
The band began to play. This song was one that they had clearly been saving, for it was the lightest tune of the evening. It seemed to lift Emmeline’s spirits even higher, even as she was not fully present for it. In mind if not in body, she was with her imagined Count de Coligny , living her dearest fantasy. If Lord Blackwood held her hand a little tighter than was considered polite, or caressed the underside of her gloved wrist with his thumb for a brief, blissful moment, she did not notice. Nothing could distract her from her daydreams. Her very own fairy tale had just begun.
CHAPTER 2
“Well, now. You seem a bit frustrated,” Archibald said, to his sister, as he sat down at a nearby chair in the drawing room of the Knight residence.
“Yes, I feel that way,” Emmeline replied with a twitching brow. Watercolours were not a favourite pastime of hers. But they were an accomplishment she intended to add to her list of skills. “You see, the wings of a bird are quite lovely in flight, or even perched on a branch, but in art, they are simply unbearable.”
“Then why subject yourself to such torture?”
“They say that drawing improves the mind, Archibald,” she said. “Perhaps you should try it.”
“Ah, and it has nothing to with mother saying such skills make you more marriageable?”
“I am perfectly marriageable, and I refuse to allow a bird with such lopsided feathers to determine whether that statement is true or not.”
“My apologies. With your sudden interest in matrimonial affairs and constant pining over that Count we have yet to meet, I imagined that there was some sort of correlation.”
Emmeline sighed and placed her watercolours down. “I don’t have a chance, have I?”
“Considering the object of your affections is thus far imaginary, I would say that you have as much a chance as you think you do.”
“He is not imaginary, Archibald,” she snapped. “He is very real and has shown his character well enough through the very action of coming here. Clearly, he is seeking the company of the humbler genteel of the countryside. I am sure that father will call on him soon, and then we will meet and then… well, I am not sure what then, but I know it will be perfectly romantic.”
“And you are so sure this magical meeting will occur at all?”
“You can hardly spend a season in Berkshire without meeting the Knight family, at least once,” Emmeline said loftily. “We are fairly well known, are we not?”
“And if he came for humble young ladies, he will surely find them here,” Archibald said with a mischievous grin.
A rosy-cheeked servant entered with a calling card on a platter. “Miss Emmeline, Mr. Archibald,” he said, “Mr. Knight has requested your presence downstairs.”
Archibald crossed the room to the platter and Emmeline jumped out of her seat. “Who is it? Archibald, quick, look!”
He shot her an amused look, eyebrow raised. “Please do not get your hopes so high so quickly, dear sister.”
“Oh, hush and just look!”
“Fine, fine,” her brother said. He picked up the calling card and, for a moment, the world stood still. Archibald exhaled in a long breath and Emmeline watched, heart caught in her throat. “Goodness,” he murmured.
“Archibald, stop with your theatrics and just tell me who it is!”
“Well, Emmeline,” he said, holding out the card, “it seems your prince has come calling.” On the card, the words Le Comte de Coligny were embossed in deep black ink.
“De Coligny—that’s him! The Count! What could have drawn him here so quickly?” Emmeline exclaimed excited.
“Rumours of your level-headed manner, no doubt,” Archibald
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