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No, they didn’t.Emma bit back a smile. This was perfect! She could kiss her Uncle Henry for so soundly distracting Mama. He’d done a much better job of doing so than she could have ever done. “I do hope he and Papa don’t get intoanotherargument,” Emma replied, planting the seed of impending doom in her mother’s mind.

“Oh, heavens.” Her mother cringed. “I’d best make sure everything is all right.” She spun around and started back the way they’d come. “When you finish showing Sir Thomas the portraits, please join everyone in the drawing room.”

“Of course, Mama,” Emma called to her mother’s rapidly disappearing swish of skirts.

Then Emma smiled up at Sir Thomas. This was it. Her chance to get Sir Thomas to kiss her. Her chance to wipe Lord Heathfield from her memory forever. She batted her eyelashes at the magistrate.

His dark eyes widened in surprise, then he nodded to the portraits that lined the far wall. “So, um, which ancestor is your favorite?”

Which ancestor was her favorite? Heavens, shouldn’t he take their unchaperoned opportunity to try and kiss her? Heathfield had insisted Sir Thomas was paying her court. Perhaps the blasted viscount was mistaken. Or perhaps the magistrate just needed more encouragement. Emma forced a giggle she didn’t feel from her throat. “Do you truly want to discuss my ancestors, sir?” She batted her lashes even faster.

“Is there something in your eye?” he asked, a frown marring his face.

Blast it, she was doing this wrong. How did a lady go about getting a gentleman to kiss her? Lord Heathfield had just tipped her chin up and done so. She hadn’t even tried to get him to do so. And he certainly hadn’t asked permission. Why was Sir Thomas being so difficult? “Of course not, silly.” Heavens, she sounded like an idiot.

Sir Thomas’s frown deepened. “Lady Emma, are you flirting with me?”

Apparently not very well, if he had to ask. Emma heaved a sigh and decided for honesty. “I thought you might try to kiss me,” she admitted, hating the desperation she heard in her own voice.

The magistrate’s mouth fell open, and one hand touched his heart in alarm. “Do I strike you as an unconscionable lothario?”

She wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. “Um, n-no.”

He dropped on his knees before her and clasped his hands in hers. “I promise you, my lady, I am a gentleman. While I would like nothing better than to kiss you, I feel we should be betrothed first. I shall hurry forth and ask Lord Norland for an audience.”

An audience? Emma nearly swallowed her tongue. She didn’t want to marry Sir Thomas, she’d just wanted a kiss. One simple, little kiss. Was that too much to ask for?

“I’m not sure how Mr. Blommen would feel about that.” Lord Heathfield appeared out of the darkness with a dangerous look flashing in his eyes. Blast him for still making Emma’s heart flutter with just the sound of his baritone voice.

CHAPTER7

Heath forcedthe scowl from his face as Sir Thomas Mason scrambled from his knees back to his feet.

“Who is Mr. Blommen?” the magistrate asked.

Emma’s face flushed a pretty pink that was quickly becoming Heath’s favorite hue. How he would enjoy seeing it every day—and thinking up new ways to achieve the perfect splash of color. But first he’d have to dispense with the toady Sir Thomas.

“No one you would know, sir,” she hastened to explain. “He’s just...”

“He’s Flemish,” Heath added for good measure. “Keeps to himself.”

“Ah, well that explains it.” The magistrate smiled blankly, as though the explanation didn’t make any sense at all but he had no intention of stating as much.

“Mason.” Heath nodded towards Emma. “I need just a moment of the lady’s time. Do you mind?”

Sir Thomas raked a hand through his dark hair. “I, well… That is… I mean to say, that would be highly irregular for you to speak with Lady Emma alone.”

“And yetyouare alone with the lady. I do hope you don’t think I am less of a gentleman thanyouare, Mason,” Heath said with a cool steeliness that belied the boiling blood coursing through his veins at having found the man actually proposing to Emma. “If you have some qualm about my honor, I’m certain we can come to some understanding at dawn. Shall I send Mr. Lockwell to meet with your second? Just give me the man’s name, and I’ll send my friend in search of him this very hour.”

All the color in the magistrate’s face drained away. “I… Lord Heathfield!” he gasped, looking positively nauseated at the suggestion. “That is not what I meant at all! I have no reason to question your honor.”

No, he didn’t. Until now, Heath had always been the epitome of an honorable gentleman. But he was fast shedding his honor as though it was an old, worn, out-of-fashion cloak. After hearing Emma practically beg the magistrate to kiss her, Mason was fortunate Heath was allowing him to keep all of his appendages attached to his person.

“Perfect,” Heath held out his hand for Emma. “Wehave something to discuss.”

She frowned at his offer, reminding Heath at once of the way his one-time governess always looked at him when he’d been particularly unruly as a child. Well, Emma could frown at him all she wanted. She was the one, after all, he’d overheard trying to coerce that damned toad-eating magistrate into kissing her. All things considered, Heath ought to be the one frowning. How could she kiss him the way she had, then run out on him and throw herself into Mason’s arms?

“Come along, my lady.” Heath impatiently wiggled his fingers to gesture her forward.