Page 107 of The Girl Out of Time
Louisa smiled and patted Emmeline’s hand. “Goodness. You really are in love. Don’t worry. Wewillmake him declare himself.” She looked at Sebastian. “What will you wear to the masquerade, my lord?”
“Sebastian, please,” he said. “I’m thinking Henry VIII. His younger years, of course. I can do the portly version later on. Establish a timeline, perhaps.”
“In thirty years, everyone will know you’ll turn up as the king once more.”
Sebastian nodded wisely. “That’s when I shock them and come dressed as Queen Elizabeth, instead.”
And Louisa laughed again, indicating her earlier reaction hadn’t been a fluke. Emmeline, too, smiled—at her friends, and a healthy bout of optimism returning to her heart.
Chapter 26
Seeing Lord Wescott’s residence, Emmeline was not at all surprised at Lady Cassiopeia’s popularity among the bachelors. This kind ofhunting, as Sebastian had sardonically called it, was more about one’s worth than character, and even though Lady Cassiopeia seemed like a perfectly polite, well-behaved young woman, surely, her father’s fortune helped.
While they milled about in the parlor with other guests, waiting for dinner to be called, Emmeline had counted no less than fifteen paintings from the masters, including a Gainsborough work of a family in front of a serene country landscape, hanging over the fireplace. She had no doubt the statues and busts in the foyer were genuine, too. The guests’ glittering attires further reinforced Wescott’s importance. The ladies must’ve emptied their jewelry boxes for the finest pieces, and the gentlemen were having a silent competition over who’d managed the crispiest shirt collar and the most complicated cravat knot.
“That’s him,” Sebastian whispered near her ear. “Here he comes.”
Sebastian, Emmeline, and Louisa hovered by one of the sofas, idly chatting with another couple who couldn’t stop emphasizing how Wescott was to set aside a foal of his finest stallion for their youngest son to ride next summer. The man in question now headed toward them, threateningly serious in his all-black attire.
Wescott’s eyes swept over the gathered company as he greeted each one, finally stopping on Emmeline.
“My cousin, Miss Marshall,” Sebastian introduced her.
Wescott issued a polite nod. “I don’t believe I’m familiar with the Marshalls.”
“I come from the States,” Emmeline said, flashing Sebastian a worried look. Hopefully, Wescott wouldn’t be too curious about her origins.
“Is that so? Fascinating.” The earl sounded anything but fascinated. “I trust you’ve been enjoying London.”
“Uhm—yes, very much.” Would’ve been even better if she’d managed to talk with Theo, but she and Louisa had hit an unexpected obstacle: they didn’t know how to get in touch with him. So far, Emmeline had always run into him, so she had no idea where he lived.
She was out of luck this evening, too. Theo wasn’t here, not that it surprised her. He wasn’t one for fancy dinners. Her best option, she surmised, was to linger in Hyde Park every day until he went there for a ride.
“There she is.” Wescott’s voice lightened up. Lady Cassiopeia approached them, and he gave her a peck on the cheek. “How are you, darling?”
“Fine, Papa.” Lady Cassiopeia managed the tiniest smile. She wore a silk gown, simple in style but stunning in color, shifting from bronze to a dark blue as the light hit the fabric. “Don’t let me keep you from your company.”
“Nonsense. This is your party, as much as mine. Besides, I don’t believe you know all the guests already. Miss Marshall is new to town.”
Cassiopeia met Emmeline’s eyes. “We’ve been introduced.” Her slight smile stayed, but it didn’t reach her eyes—unlike her father, who was positively beaming as he looked at her.
A pang of guilt, leading to homesickness, pierced Emmeline’s chest. Lord Wescott might be the typical haughty aristocrat, but there was no doubt he loved his daughter.
I wonder what Father is doing right now.If there was such a thing as “right now” in her strange time travel conundrum. If she never came back, would he miss her? Would he ever realize she didn’t mean her awful last words to him?
They talked some more. Lord Wescott touted Cassiopeia as an absolute prodigy on the piano, even creating her own composition, while Cassiopeia blushed and tried to steer the conversation to a different topic. After a few minutes, Wescott moved on, herding his daughter along to greet more guests.
“I might need to change my mind,” Louisa finally spoke up. “I don’t envy her that much.”
“Admitting envy is the first step to progress,” Sebastian said, earning himself a light slap on the arm from Louisa’s fan.
Emmeline didn’t need to ask her to clarify. Perhaps it was the pressure of speaking to an important man, but the minutes in Lord Wescott’s company had left her drained. Did Lady Cassiopeia feel the pressure, too?
Oh, if only she could be wherever Theo was right now; surely somewhere more relaxed and pleasant. It would be too late for walking or riding. Perhaps he’d be reading a book by the fire, in a warm and cozy room…
Would he go for one of Miranda Stormcliffe’s novels? And would he spare a thought for her?
Dinner was called, Louisa muttered, “Finally, I’m starved,” and the guests drifted to the foyer. But before they could find their partners to accompany to dinner, Lord Wescott rose a few steps on the staircase and clinked a glass of champagne.
