Page 4 of A Touch Wicked
Lord, she was hopeless.
Emma kicked at the pebbles on the walkway as they strolled alongside the Serpentine. On a normal day, she would have stopped to breathe in warm spring air, listened to the ducks as they swam across the water. Now all she could do was think about him.Kick. His mask.Kick. That bloody invitation.Kick.
And how she realized that curse sounded like a shorter, nastier word forcuriosity.
“Emma dear?” Alexandra sounded amused.
“Hmm?”
Emma glanced over to find Alexandra smiling at her. Well, it wasn’t a smile so much as a quirk of her lips, a twinkle of amusement in her blue eyes — identical to her brother’s. “Is there something the matter?”
“Of course not,” she said quickly.
“No?” Alexandra looked rather pointedly at Emma’s shoes. “I couldn’t help but notice you’re rather intent on destroying the walkway.”
Emma winced when she realized the path was marked with scattered rocks from each kick. The well-dressed, elderly couple who passed them gawked at her unladylike behavior. Emma sighed. “I’m not good company today.”
Alexandra linked arms with her as they resumed their stroll. “What shall I do? Chastise you? Take it out of your salary?” At Emma’s look, Alexandra grinned. “I’m not going to punish you for having a bad day. You’ve certainly seen more than your share of mine.”
At twenty-three, Alexandra and Emma were the same age. Where Emma was slightly plainer in appearance, Alexandra had inherited the same beauty both of her brothers possessed.
Her beauty managed to fool men, at first. How angelic she appeared, how graceful.
Oh, how many men had fallen for that first impression. The truth was, Alexandra had the uncanny ability to eviscerate a man with a few words. And she did just that — in writing.
It also made her an undesirable wife to gentlemen seeking a biddable woman to marry. Fools, the lot of them. Emma did not understand Englishmen.
“It’s not my day that's the problem. It's an —” Emma carefully thought about her next words — “an exceedingly awful idea I’ve had that may or may not have something to do with a family curse.”
More like a terrible lack of judgement, passed through the Dumont women.
“Pardon?”
“Never mind. It’s ridiculous.”
Alexandra smiled. “As you can see, I have plenty of time.Dites-moi en français s'il vous plaît.”
Emma hesitated, then after a moment asked in French, “Have you heard of the Masquerade? It’s a—”
“I knew it!” Alexandra’s shout made Emma jump about a foot in the bloody air. “Well, I didn’tknowit exactly — I figured it was a man — but I guessed it had something to do with a shag.”
“Alexandra!” She looked around to make certain no one was about. “Why don’t you announce it a bit more conspicuously, I don’t think they heard you back in Belgravia.”
Oh, good lord, she was still grinning. “They don't all speak fluent French.”
“The wordshagmight have given them something of an idea. Where on earth did you hear that?”
“Don’t change the subject. You want to sneak into the Masquerade, don’t you?”
Emma flushed, as if she were a damned virgin. She hadn’t taken a lover since before she became a lady’s maid, but she wasn’t exactly an innocent society miss, either.
For that matter, neither was Alexandra. She left the house often enough after hours that Emma wagered she had taken lovers of her own. Alexandra kept her indiscretions discreet enough to avoid ruin.
“I might have considered it.”
Her friend leaned in. “I’ll let you in on a secret: every lady in thetonhas.”
“How do you know?”
