A Valentine Wedding by Jane Feather Read Free Book Online

lightly ironical, but all the while his eyes darted around the dressing room, noting everything. He strode to the secretaire, where herwriting case lay. His fingers ran lightly over the fine leather. There were drawers in the secretaire, twelve little ones for monthly bills and accounts, two deeper ones in the body of the piece.
    “What are you doing in here?”
    He turned around, seemingly casual, at Emma’s voice from the doorway. She stood there in her nightgown, her hair tumbling down her back, fixing him with an indignant and questioning stare.
    “Just looking around,” he said easily. “I was interested to see how the rooms are arranged.”
    Emma frowned. “You haven’t seen the house before?”
    “No.” He shook his head. “I saw no need. The specifications for the house seemed exactly right, so I simply signed the lease.” He let his hand fall from the writing case and strolled to the armoire. “You’re going to need a completely new wardrobe, I would imagine.”
    He changed the subject with an airy wave as he opened the armoire and began to riffle through the garments hanging there. “As I thought, all the necklines here are too low now for daytime. They’re being worn higher with lace collarettes. Sleeves are longer too. Oh, and you can do without trains in most cases.”
    Emma was torn between annoyance at this insouciant riffling of her wardrobe and interest in his comments. Alasdair was an acknowledged arbiter of fashion, and his taste in dress, both male and female, was impeccable. Annoyance won the day, however. “When you’ve finished rummaging through my armoire, perhaps we could get on with discussing my finances?” she said frigidly.
    Alasdair turned back to her. “Ah, yes.” He raisedthe eyeglass that hung on a black silk ribbon around his neck and regarded her through it for a minute. “You look cold, my sweet. Perhaps you should put on a wrapper or get back into bed.”
    Emma belatedly realized that her nightgown was of very fine lawn, fine enough to be almost transparent. She glanced down and saw that her nipples made dark splotches against the white material. Alasdair’s gaze swept down her body and she knew he was recalling what was so barely concealed beneath the gown. The careless endearment, the pointed gaze, both infuriated her. She felt as if she were being appraised like a harlot in a whorehouse … as if he had mentally lined her up in the serried ranks of his innumerable liaisons.
    The hurt was still as fresh and piercing as it had ever been.
    Emma marched back to her bedchamber, snatching up a velvet wrapper from the chest at the end of the bed. Secure in its folds, she turned to the attack.
    “I suppose all the ladies who bask in your favors benefit from your advice on matters of dress and fashion,” she said with ringing sarcasm. “Maybe they pay for it too? I shouldn’t wonder if Lady Melrose and her like are more than willing to keep you in funds in exchange for all those little favors you do them.” Anger and pain were inextricable now and she continued in a devastating sweep of insult. “Indeed, I have often wondered how you manage to live so well with no visible means of support. Now, of course, I realize how it must be. Do you have a scale of charges, my dear Alasdair?”
    Alasdair had crossed the room in three strides. She saw with grim satisfaction that she had broken through his shell of debonair insouciance. What pricenow his peaceful intentions? He was pale with fury, his eyes mere slits of green ice. There was a white shade around his mouth and the pulse in his temple throbbed.
    “By God, Emma! You go too far.” His hands circled her throat and she could feel her own pulse beating against his fingers. She met his furious gaze with a gleam of triumph.
    “Under invincible propulsion,” she declared. “But will you not satisfy my curiosity? I know for a fact that you have an income of five thousand pounds a year from my fortune. But that’s hardly