Before He Was Mine (Before Series, Book 2)

When Will Meets Emilia

The man's eyes continued to bore into hers. Why wouldn't he look away?

Why wouldn't she look away?

Finally, he turned his head and casually continued his conversation with the man next to him. As if they hadn't shared some heated moment. Oh, and good gracious. He was speaking to Lord Farrington; he had been the one who had been standing with him and Lady Humphries earlier.

Emilia slowly blew out a breath, her cheeks billowing. Another reason why a lady might become a wallflower is that she requires a respectable introduction. And Emilia, needless to say, had acquired very little of those.

So naturally, she had no idea who this man was.

For whatever reason, it was highly inappropriate for a well-bred lady to introduce herself to an unknown gentleman; that job is left to the lady's acquaintances or companion.

So when a lady had a companion such as Emilia's...

She side-eyed Lady Worthington, noting that she was still blabbering to Lady Bellevue, describing in excruciating detail the...what was it?

Emilia leaned over further to hear their quickly-paced pecking.

Oh, yes. A hat. They were speaking of a hat—apparently one with a very large, atrocious-looking feather, worn by the hostess of tonight's ball.

"Tsk, such a tragedy to that darling gown!" Lady Worthington exclaimed. "A hideous pairing."

Emilia rather thought that she, herself, was the tragedy, being that she had danced only once this entire evening. It was a shame, really. Her expectations for this season had been so high. Lady Worthington, a widowed countess, known as the ton's busybody, ought to have been the perfect companion for Emilia. She knew everyone.

She simply had no inclination to help Emilia know everyone. Or anyone at all.

"Oh!" Emilia popped out an exclamation as she threatened to fall from her chair, having leaned too far in her eagerness to eavesdrop.

"Has no one ever informed you that it is impolite to listen in on another's conversation?" drawled an unfamiliar, masculine voice.

Naturally, it had to be unfamiliar, as she had hardly met anyone at this evening's ball. Which led to the question of why this man was speaking to her.

Emilia attempted to straighten herself. "And has anyone ever told you that it is impolite to speak to a lady without being introduced?" Her words began strong but then faded away as she peered up at the gentleman.

It was him.

How had he made it over here so quickly when he had just been speaking to Lord Farrington?

Waves of black hair topped his head. It was an excruciatingly beautiful head. She hadn't quite noticed before. Alright, yes, perhaps she had noticed. But up close, it was simply so much more.

The corners of his lips turned up at her rebuke. "Are you really one to play by those silly society rules, Lady Emilia?"

"I—well, I—No, I suppose not."

"I thought as much." Another smirk.

Emilia found herself standing, as would be polite, as she asked, "How do you know my name?"

The gentleman merely shrugged, moving his broad shoulder up infinitesimally. "Do you wish to know mine?"

"I do not know if—" she began to say but stopped when the man raised his brow in a silent rebuttal.

She sighed, giving in to her usual informality. "Fine, yes. Who are you?"

The gentleman smiled broadly, his sun-kissed skin stretching to reveal a sparkling smile. Emilia felt something deep inside her quiver.

"May I ask for one of your next dances?" he questioned, gesturing to the dance card on her wrist.

"Are you not going to tell me your name?" she asked, incredulity leaking into her voice.

"Most certainly. If you dance with me."

Emilia huffed. "Why—Lord—Sir—whoever you are! I might be so inclined to throw societal rules out the window on such a night as this, but I am not interested in entertaining a man who has put me at quite a disadvantage."

Her voice has begun to rise in her declaration, but luckily the loud-mouthed "whispers" of Lady Worthington covered any noise from traveling.

"—the feathers are simply far too large for her head!"

Emilia quickly side-eyed Lady Worthington, who was gesturing dramatically. Yes, with that display, no one would be paying any attention to Emilia and her mystery gentleman.

Well, not her mystery gentleman.

Emilia had never had her own gentleman, and she likely never would. Though truthfully, she wished that weren't true. Emilia loved her brother dearly, but she did not wish to live with him forever. Eventually, Theo would get married, and then what would Emilia do?

The gentleman was still standing there patiently, completely ignoring her little outburst. It was rather infuriating. He was beaming. Smiling as though he was a child about to receive an extra helping of pudding on Christmas Eve.

"Come now, Lady Emilia," he said, eyes twinkling. "It is only a dance."

Emilia could only stare. Her mouth held firm in an unwavering, tight line.

"No?" he asked, still looking pleased with himself despite her lack of response. "Well, if you change your mind..." he offered, before putting one hand lazily in his pocket and strolling away.

Emilia released a breath as he walked back across the room, watching his lean body stroll casually. She peeked at Lady Worthington, but she was still preoccupied with Lady Bellevue. Emilia suddenly felt bereft.

The strange encounter with the mysterious gentleman might have been...well, Emilia did not know what it was. But it was something. It was the only something this evening that hadn't nearly bored her to tears.

Emilia cursed inwardly. At least, she hoped it was inwardly. She wouldn't likely regret this, but it wouldn't be the first thing she would regret tonight. If Emilia could muster through a dance with Lord Greyson, surely it wouldn't be such a bad thing to dance with this handsome stranger.

Inappropriate though it may be.

No one would know that they hadn't been introduced.

Emilia rolled her eyes, knowing that wasn't true. Somehow everyone knew everything when it came to the ton. Lady Worthington, for one, would surely know. And her brother.

Not that they would say anything. But still, the point held true.

The man was getting further and further away as Emilia debated. His deep maroon-colored topcoat was tailored so perfectly to him that she could see the muscles in his back move from the sway of his left arm as he walked.

Who was he? Emilia simply had to know.

She would dance with him merely to find out, and then she would leave him alone. As well as any other unknown gentleman. She would be respectable, she promised herself.

Taking a step forward, Emilia called, "Wait!"