“I agree.”
He took another step backwards. “I’m afraid it is time for me to depart,” he said, his words sounding rushed. “I intend to call upon Lady Emma.”
“I wish you luck.”
Martin stared at her for a moment before he departed from the room. Hannah walked over to the window and watched as he stepped into his coach.
She couldn’t account for his odd behavior, but she would never be foolish enough to allow Martin to flirt with her again. Her heart could take only so much rejection from him.
As the coach jerked forward, Martin couldn’t seem to believe what had just happened. He had almost kissed Hannah, right there in the drawing room. His intention had been to tease her, but when he was standing close to her, the desire to kiss her had become nearly overwhelming.
He was so thankful he had resisted the urge. If he hadn’t, he could have ruined everything between them. He had no desire to pursue Hannah. Good heavens, she was like family to him. So why had he noticed her comely figure when she walked into the room, or the faint smell of rose water on the delicate curvature of her neck? Those were things he should definitely not be noticing about his friend.
Martin turned his attention towards the window. He thought he had seen a trace of longing in her eyes, but that was impossible. Hannah had never shown any interest in him, which is why he had always enjoyed her company. He tired of the women who always batted their eyelashes at him and hid behind coy smiles.
No, Hannah was different from the other ladies, and she always had been. He sighed. She had thought his words earlier weren’t genuine, but he had meant every word. Regardless, whatever he was beginning to feel for Hannah needed to be suppressed, at all costs. He wouldn’t jeopardize his friendship with her over something as trivial as misplaced feelings.
The coach came to a stop outside a townhouse and the footman put the step down. Martin stepped out and took a moment to admire the large columns framing the main door.
He walked up and knocked. After a moment, the door opened and a tall man with thinning white hair answered.
“May I help you?” he asked politely.
Martin reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a calling card. He extended it towards the butler as he said, “I am here to call upon Lady Emma.”
The butler accepted the card and opened the door wide. “Please do come in,” he stated. “I will see if Lady Emma is accepting callers.”
“Thank you.”
As the butler walked away, Martin saw Lord Charles descending the large staircase that dominated the far wall.
Charles smiled broadly at him. “Good morning,” he greeted as he approached.
“Good morning,” Martin replied.
“Are you here to call upon my sister?” Charles asked, stopping in front of him.
“I am.”
Charles nodded approvingly. “I have no doubt she will be pleased to see you.”
“I hope so.”
“I am on my way to call on Miss Blackmore,” Charles informed him.
“Are you now?” Martin asked, hoping to keep the terseness out of his voice.
“I am,” Charles answered. “I must admit that I am rather eager to become more acquainted with her, especially after dancing a set with her last night.”
“I wish you luck.”
Charles eyed him curiously. “I know you are a friend of Miss Blackmore’s, but I can’t help but ask if you have spoken for her.”
“I have not,” he replied. “We are just friends.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Charles said with relief in his voice. “I didn’t dare to compete against you for a lady’s hand.”
Not wanting to continue this line of conversation, Martin’s eyes roamed the spacious entry hall with the vaulted ceilings. “You have a beautiful townhouse.”
“Yes, it has been in our family for generations,” Charles announced proudly.
The sound of the butler’s heels clipping on the tile drew his attention. “If you follow me, milord,” the butler said. “Lady Emma and Lady Bideford will greet you in the drawing room.”
Charles gave him an encouraging smile. “Now it is my turn to wish you luck,” he joked.
Martin followed the butler down the hall and stepped into a room with red papered walls. All available space on the tables and mantel over the fireplace was filled with trinkets of every size and shape. Lady Emma was sitting on the settee next to her mother, and both had needlework in their hands.
He stopped in the center of the room and bowed. “Thank you for agreeing to see me today, Lady Emma.” He tipped his head respectfully towards her mother. “Lady Bideford.”
Emma placed the fabric on the table next to her. “I wanted to thank you for the flowers that were delivered this morning.”
“You are most kindly welcome.”
With a side glance at her mother, Emma asked, “Would you care to have a seat, my lord?”
“Thank you.” He sat across from them on an upholstered armchair. “It is a lovely day we are having, is it not?”
Lady Bideford bobbed her head. “It is quite glorious,” she replied. “Emma took advantage of the nice weather and went on a morning ride.”
“Is that so?” Martin asked.
Emma nodded. “I prefer riding in the morning. The paths are not as crowded, and my horse can stretch its legs.”
“I would concur,” he said. “Have you ridden in Hyde Park?”
A smile came to her lips. “I adore riding in Hyde Park,” she answered. “I especially love riding near the Serpentine River.”
Lady Bideford interjected, “When my Emma is not riding her horse, she is often found practicing the pianoforte and harp.”
“What wonderful instruments,” Martin praised.
“Yes, Emma is quite accomplished,” Lady Bideford gushed. “Besides speaking multiple languages, she is also well-versed in many subjects, including art, history, and chronology.”
Emma’s smile dimmed, making it apparent that she was not thrilled by her mother’s praise.
“Lord Egleton does not need a list of my many accomplishments,” Emma said softly.
“I am just making conversation,” Lady
