"By Jove, Lord Winterly! What luck!"

Emma gaped in astonishment as Mr. Cartwright, an acquaintance of her uncle's whom she knew to be a well-to-do stockbroker, passed them by without a single acknowledgment that he had recognized the sisters. He was seemingly far too engrossed in the glorious prospect of speaking with the exalted personage in question — the very man who had occupied all her waking thoughts since last night.

So that is Lord Winterly! His face was finally revealed to her.

"I noticed your coach outside, sir, and thought I had better pop in to pay my devoirs!" His greeting was ridiculously obsequious, but apparently not sufficient enough to properly convey his great esteem, for he then felt the need to execute a whole scrape, lifting his cocked hat from his balding pate in the process. "Miss Winterly," said he affording Lord Winterly's companion the very same outrageous bow.

Any eye, discerning or no, might have noticed that Winterly's countenance suggested that he thought the show rather absurd himself, but not the little stockbroker — nay, he was far too busy making love to Winterly and his...sister, was it?

Cartwright then proceeded to wax lyrical on the manifold pleasures of having "chanced upon his Lordship", after which his descanting shifted into talk of finance and the Stock Exchange. His nasally exuberance was such that even Milli could no longer bear to eavesdrop, and finally relented to Emma's pertinacious, and hopefully inconspicuous, tugging. It was past time that they left Hoby's, and for more reasons than merely Cartwright's sycophancy.

Their movements towards the door had attracted not only Miss Winterly's notice, who seemed as disinterested in Cartwright's blathering as they, but another's as well — if the cold sensation boring into the back of her head was anything to go by. She would gladly bet her entire annual allowance that Winterly himself was also watching her.

They had not quite reached the doorway when 'ole Cartwright called out to the sisters, drawing an imperceptive groan from Emma who turned around directly, replacing her anxious frown with a half-hearted smile.

"The miss Lucases!" he cried excitedly, though his happy expression was slightly pinched. "What a propitious happenstance! I had not seen you there."

Liar.

Emma, having heard neither Winterly nor his sister mention them, could only assume that Cartwright had remarked their interested gazes and taken it upon himself to be of service and commence the introductions. His demeanor, however, spoke of his finding the task more onerous than he would have them all believe, but she was a very keen observer of people in general; and whatever language a body invariably, and unwittingly, revealed. He could not fool her with his simpering.

Cartwright turned to his lofty friend and asked, "Do you know the ladies?"

"Miss Lucas and I have not...officially met," was all that Winterly replied, his voice barren of warmth or recognition.

"Allow me, sir!" Cartwright was only too happy to oblige him and ushered the girls over imperiously. "Lord Winterly, Miss Winterly, may I introduce to you Miss Emmaline Lucas and her sister Miss Millicent Lucas. They are staying with their uncle in Cheapside."

Four how-do-you-dos, three curtsies, and one haughty bow were thereafter exchanged between both parties, Lord Winterly's efforts having been cursory and his sister's, fortunately, quite the opposite.

"This is indeed a pleasure," said she, beaming at Emma, "I had hoped to meet you! My brother mentioned earlier, when we saw you both arrive, that he knew you."

It was Winterly's abrupt and quelling look, which he aimed full force at his sister, that left Emma in doubt of his sister's asseveration. Was the lady merely exaggerating the truth, or outright lying about her brother's ever mentioning her name.

"Miss Winterly-"

"You must please call me Victoria, for I am determined to call you Emma." Her smile was so engaging and sweet that Emma found herself thoroughly enchanted by the woman. 

Without taking even a momentary breath, and after marking the admiring looks that Milli bestowed her gown, she began monopolizing the conversation with talk of lace and London fashions. Poor Mr. Cartwright, who had hoped to toady a little more, was therewith prevented from his heart's desire, which seemed not to bother Lord Winterly in the least. That gentleman took no pity on the stockbroker and instead contrived to attend his sister's banal chatter.

Finally, glancing at his pocket watch, Mr Cartwright was able to bid them all adieu, but not before promising to send his cards around and have them all to dinner, whereat Winterly only smirked, evidently tickled by some private thought. It, however, disappeared rather swiftly when he caught Emma watching him curiously.

Whatever jest he had harbored, bore very little importance to Emma, since she was still endeavoring to make out whether or not Cartwright meant to include her and her family in these future dinner plans. I hope not!

Once Mr. Cartwright, of the Spitalsfield Cartwrights, had quitted their sphere, Emma decided that if they did not also leave now, their uncle would like as not give himself apoplexy from worriment.

"We really must be getting on, Milli." Emma looked pointedly at her sister.

"Oh! but you must allow us to escort you home, for your sister and I are quite the best of friends already!"

"Really, Victoria," said Winterly, casting his eyes heavenward, "Cannot you see that the ladies have made other arrangements." The last word he bit off with clenched teeth, ostensibly disgruntled by his sister's overtures and highhandedness.

It was not every day, perhaps not even every year, that a person met with someone as friendly and winsome as Victoria. Emma, who valued pragmatics and skepticism far above trust — which she never gave carelessly — and affability, decided thus to consider the young lady's behavior singular, and a little questionable. Milli on the other hand was beside herself with excitement and beyond flattered by the attentions lavished on her by this comely stranger.

"Lord Winterly is right, I am obliged to refuse the generous offer of your-"

"Nonsense," said she, her countenance mirrored, and altogether exacerbated, by Milli who turned to fire a warning glare at her sister. "Your sister mentioned you'd arrived by hack. Verily, I shall esteem it a favor! Or would you have me suffer my brother's sullen company another moment alone?"

Rather that than we endure it also. "Very well." Emma mustered a smile that forthwith withered away once she brought her eyes back to Winterly's. The other two women, however, squealed their delight, unconcerned that she was now the object of Winterly's cold gaze...yet again.

Although his visage was proof only of his aloof detachment, there was a definite hardness about his mouth and tightness at the eyes which chilled his uneasy observer. Of this silent interaction, Milli and Victoria were unaware, or at least the former was; the latter seemed to know more than she let on.

Once they were outside, Winterly helped his sister into the carriage, followed closely by Milli and lastly by Emma herself. She hesitated only a brief moment, but eventually gave him her hand to help her up into the conveyance where they were seated vis-à-vis. Would that etiquette had not demanded that she take the hand of the imposing armiger, for the contact unsettled her entirely too much despite that both their hands were gloved.

That carriage ride was perhaps the longest of her young life, and when the steeple of Bow Church finally came into view, Emma sighed her relief. Only a little further now.

She would as fain be out of this coach and away from Lord Winterly's dour company as soon as may be. It mattered not that his sister and Milli had chewed the fat the entire length of the awkward jaunt, she had found that Winterly's penetrating looks and reticence had completely frayed her nerves.

He gave every indication that he thought the two sisters personae non gratae, and she had all the while kept her eyes averted, studying the people and the streets outside, loth to acknowledge him even with an answering glare.

At last they passed the coffee house where her uncle usually liked to drink his tea, buy his tobacco, take his snuff, and eat his sandwiches during business meetings, but seeing as it was now quite late in the day, the place was practically deserted.

Emma wondered if it was the stench of the merchant class that offended Winterly or if it were solely her person whom he found distasteful. She was confused by this stranger who she had veritably obsessed over like an infatuated girl merely because he'd puled her from the brink of death last night. But the man she had met then was nothing like the man who sat opposite her now. They were as two different beings.

Well, that should cure you of whatever captivation held you in his thrall. She chuckled despite herself, for if one could not laugh at one's own foolishness, then one was taking oneself far too seriously.

When the carriage rolled to a stop, Emma closed her eyes and sent up a thankful prayer, but forestalled herself from leaping at the door by curling her fingers into the plush seat lest she give in to that most basic need to flee what threatens — and Winterly's presence was anything but innocuous.

The sound of a male snort brought her eyes up to see that he had noticed her agitated mien and was finally showing an emotion other than his wonted disgust, apathy or anger; although, she was not quite sure his amusement was preferable to the stoicism he'd maintained in his carriage.

"Why have we stopped?" Victoria was peering through the window curiously. "Is this where you live?" She looked askance at Emma.

"No, it is a little further on." She knew that her footman, Reid, was seated atop beside Winterly's liveried driver and would be directing the man. "I cannot think why-"

"There is an obstruction up ahead," Winterly interjected with what she was coming to believe was his usual indolence. "It seems we must go on foot from here."

How can he possibly know that?

"My lord," said Winterly's footman, appearing suddenly to open the door, "There is an obstruction up ahead."

"No matter," Emma asserted cheerfully, before Victoria got it into her head to suggest they all wait inside the stuffy coach, "Milli and I shall walk the rest of the way." The house was after all no more than a mile from their current location.

"Capitol!" Victoria grabbed Milli's hand excitedly. "My brother and I will walk you to your door."

Emma forbore rolling her eyes, or glancing towards her imposing bête noire, as she disembarked in a hurry. Once the rest of the occupants had alighted, she made to walk beside her sister, but that little chit had already been commandeered by Victoria. Miss Winterly had perforce linked their arms and began whispering confidentially to Milli as they moved along the narrow pavement, leaving her to follow...with Winterly.

Bloody wonderful! She did roll her eyes at that. Such language was certainly unbecoming, yet still and all permissible when none were privy to her thoughts but she. It was thoughts like these that entertained her as they walked; her silent companion had made no effort at discourse — no surprise there — and so she had not felt obliged to attempt it either.

I am not at all bothered by the quiet. By thunder, what quiet?! The streets and sidewalks are absolutely serried this evening. Good Lord! You are boring, Emma! Oh shut up, Emma, she chuckled inwardly, tickled by the silly conversation she was having with herself.

This, of course, drew Winterly's notice, for he peered down his nose at her with a puzzled arch to his brows.

"You must forgive me, sir, I find that I talk to myself quite often."

He nodded, a quirk appearing to chip at his granite lips. "And what, pray, was the subject of this inner monologue?"

"You."

"Me?" He seemed both taken aback and slightly perturbed by the idea. "You found me diverting?"

"Yes, I was just remarking to myself how incredibly lively I find your society to be."

He snorted at this, neither mistaking her irony nor, surprisingly, taking any insult from it. Scratching his jaw thoughtfully, and still trying to obviate the incipience of the grin that threatened there, he could not resist a clever riposte. "There's an asylum in Chelsea with beds to spare, Miss Lucas."

"Been there have you?" Emma shot him a brazen smirk.

"I imagine the aimless palaver of the inmates to be rather more intelligent than what is to be had in most refined drawing rooms, madam. But if you do end up being a habitué of that fine establishment, rest assured that I will visit you there."

"If only to laugh at my maddened ramblings, eh?" Who knew the man actually possessed a sense of humor. Perhaps Emma had judged him too harshly just now.

Winterly merely inclined his head, allowing her to interpret what she would from his commentary. He lowered his gaze and tilted his head so as to read the title of the book she had purchased from the bookstore she had browsed earlier.

"That is an interesting choice of reading material you have there, Miss Lucas."

"Are you a fan of Eliza Parsons?"

"I admit I have no opinion of her work, despite having never read her novels myself. I believe it to be an utter waste of any woman's time to indulge in senseless fancy."

"How so, sir?" I see that I may have judged him accurately after all, she thought darkly.

"How shall you possibly be content with your lives after absorbing such nonsense? The notion that an innocent heroine flits off about the German countryside, exploring a gloomy castle in the middle of the night, fending off noisy ghosts, and the lecherous advances of an evil count is preposterous; and all this while uncovering the scandalous family secret before she faints dead away into her lover's arms? Seems somewhat trite and unoriginal, do not you think?"

"You are not a fan of Gothic Romance, then?" Emma bit her lip to keep from laughing at him, for she found his droll remark entirely too funny despite wishing to be vexed instead. She could see that the defense of her dear friends, Mrs. Anne Radcliffe included, was not to be an easy task.

"Decidedly not. Books like these," said he looking pointedly towards the volume, "give a woman ideas." He then held his hand out for the book and she obliged him, with a dubious frown, placing the volume in his large hand.

"And what ideas are those?" she asked, her dander already mounting in anticipation of what he might say to vex her.

"That they should imagine a futurity filled with danger and excitement when it is far preferable that it be exactly the opposite. A lady's place is to be safe within her family's bosom, married off as soon as may be arranged, attending endless soirees and insipid engagements, and thereafter raising her ten strapping children in perfect apathy."

There was something of a challenging glint in his gaze that occasioned her to believe he was speaking in general terms, and that what he said did not, in fact, represent his own views. What was more, he appeared to await her opinion with a cunning eagerness that she did not not quite feel she was equal to meet.

"Upon my honor!" She returned a sly smile of her own. "You are very severe in your views as pertaining to the roles of women. I am exceedingly glad to know you are not the arbiter of my destiny."

"Do not be so sure of that, Miss Lucas." His smile became darker still. "One never knows when one has met one's destiny."

Her brows knit with momentary uncertainty, the only indication she acknowledged his odd riposte, before she went on, "But I cannot fault the validity of your claims." And it rankled to admit even that; she did, after all, imagine herself something of an advocate for women's interests. "However, the life you describe is not the life for me. For my part, I would despise such a languid and, as you call it, tepid existence. I had much rather join the circus and travel the continent."

"Very good." He inclined his head imperceptibly, and she found herself suddenly captivated, against her better judgment, to discover that there was something of approval in the gesture. "But I caution you, Miss Lucas. It has been my experience that those that wish for intrigue and excitement," said he, leaning imperceptibly closer, "most often live to rue those very same feats."

"I will allow that danger is not at all what I aspire to, but adventure is certainly harmless enough."

"And yet every woman wants a little danger in her life, madam. Are you so very different?"

The subtle dilation of his pupils were as efficacious as magnets, drawing her closer despite that, physically, the space between them had not changed at all. But she was close enough to note that his eyes were a dark mahogany — only a few shades away from being black — and as mesmerizing as the cobra charmers in India that she had only read about in adventure novels. Did that make her the cobra...or was he?

No, he was, without a doubt, the serpent in this scenario. The damnable beast was splayed across his coat of arms, for God's sake! There was a definite arrière-pensée flickering in his bold gaze, and she was far too naive to share whatever innuendos might be hiding there.

"Not I. Intrigues are out of my depth and far from what I crave."

"What do you crave?" His mouth pulled to the side in a most wicked parody of a smile.

I wish he would not look quite so naughty. The way he had emphasized her choice of word, almost debasing its meaning, left her feeling slightly uneasy. "I want what every woman wants."

"And that is?"

"A happy ending, sir. That is all." But, if the look he sent her was anything to go by, she feared he had more to add on the subject and so thought to put an end to the strange interlude. "It seems as though the conversation has become somewhat too convoluted for me to follow you, sir. Perhaps we ought to change the subject."

She did not think herself unsophisticated, per se, but felt that they were both on two separate pages of a book, his meanings obscure and she too naive to follow him.

"Perhaps you're right," said he, his voice husky before taking a step back from her and casting his eyes up towards the end of the street. He had once again assumed his familiar cloak of reserve. 

What he was looking at held no interest to her; she had still not pulled her gaze from his face. She could as lief explain the vagaries of his moods as she could the multifarious emotions he evoked within her. She was intrigued, then repelled, then amused, and now disturbed; but never calmed in his presence. There was an ominous quality to his bearing and especially his dark eyes. She knew that this would be the last time she saw him and was both relieved and, strangely, wistful at the prospect.

"Emma!"

She looked up the street, following his gaze, to see that Milli was at their front door, gesturing for her to hurry, and Victoria had already begun to make her way back to her brother. It was as though she had awakened from a trance, the din of the neighborhood suddenly rending her bemusement. It struck her as absurd that she had completely failed to notice the cause of their premature cessation — a carriage that had thrown a wheel and collided with another — the while they had engaged in badinage.

"Good thing no one was hurt." Victoria smiled as she joined them, dismissing the carriage accident after the perfunctory remark.

Emma could offer no more than a diluted smile as she begged their leave and then hurried away, a distrait furrow marring her brow. The dearth of gigs rushing along the street was beneficial result of the incident and allowed that she had not to wait awkwardly beside the Winterlys before crossing over.

"Was not that a lovely excursion!" Milli cried ardently, waving goodbye to her new friend.

"Indeed, sister? You left me alone with the taciturn brother! You did not have to dree his captious brooding! Forgive me if my experience differed slightly to yours."

"Oh pooh! You're being querulous."

It was true, she was being rather a testy 'ole nag.

"Besides which," her sister continued, "you seemed content enough just now." With a suggestive wink, she peered behind Emma and looked meaningfully at the pair they had left athwart the causeway. "I hope we shall see them again!"

"Not I."

"Surely you can't mean that!"

"I should rather stay in my room all summer than spend another moment in that man's propinquity!" Not upon any account would I wish to have that unsettling gaze directed upon me again.

"That is too bad," said Milli as her sister moved past her to enter the house.

Emma stopped to pin her sibling with an impatient glower. "Not for me, it isn't."

"No, I mean you shall not have your wish, Em." She was blushing as she looked over her sister's shoulder into the street. "Lord Winterly, it seems, has more to say to you."

At that, Emma whirled around and colored as the man they had been discussing sauntered purposefully over the granite cobbles of Milk Street.

"Milli stay where you are." But there was no reply to her plea. "Milli?" Emma turned her head to see that she had been abandoned by the little minx.

"Miss Lucas," Winterly drawled as he finally appeared, taking the steps two at a time, "You forgot your book." He held out The Castle Of Wolfenbach to her with an almost mischievous grin that belied the harrowing aura that usually cohered to him.

"Th-thank you, sir." She accepted the proffered novel and backed away directly, eager for him to leave.

"I would not have you forget your book." He replaced his wellington onto his dark head, the nap of the suede disarranged by his fingers, and made ready to leave her; but not before saying, "It would be a shame to have no material to occupy your thoughts...if you should stay in your chamber all summer." Thereat he turned on his heel, an enigmatic curve to his mouth, and returned whence he'd come.

How the devil had he heard me from all the way over there!

⭐️Thanks for being so patient! I hate keeping you waiting so long for updates!⭐️