Page 42 of Prescription for Sin

“There you are, my darling!” Helen’s voice carried across the space with deliberate clarity. She paused mid-stride, her blue eyes scanning the crowd before landing on Everett. “Oh my, is that the infamous Dr Moreland? Well, I must admit, the devil does wear a handsome face. Though I’ve seen better.” Her lips curved into a dangerous smile. “Now, shall I go over and accidentally spill the entirety of my wineglass down his perfectly tailored coat?”

“Helen, don’t you dare,” Emma hissed, catching Helen’s arm as her friend started to move in Everett’s direction. “I’ve already caused enough of a scene tonight.”

“Spoilsport.” Helen pouted but allowed herself to be redirected. “Though I suppose you’re right. Wine would be far too quick. I’ve got that lovely curry sauce in my reticule…”

Despite herself, Emma felt a laugh bubble up. “You did not bring curry sauce to a society party.”

“Didn’t I?” Helen’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Check my reticule if you don’t believe me. I came prepared for war, darling.” She looped her arm through Emma’s, steering them toward a quieter corner. “Now then, tell me everything. Your letters couldn’t possibly capture all the delicious details of your encounters. I shall enjoy watching him try not to look affected when you are dancing in the arms of other men. Or when I arrange for Lord Chadwick to sit with him at dinner. You know, his lordship is infamous for cutting cheese every third bite.”

“Helen!” Emma tried to sound scandalised, but her friend’s high spirit was already working its magic, helping her find humour in what had been a painfully tense encounter. Emma couldn’t help but laugh, even as she felt tears pricking at her eyes. “I’ve missed you terribly,” she whispered.

Helen’s expression softened immediately. “None of that now,” she said gently, producing a handkerchief from somewhere in her elaborate gown. “We are not giving that man the satisfaction of seeing you cry. Moreover, your sister clearly went to great lengths to paint you up like the most delectable strawberry ice, and we mustn’t ruin her hard work.”

“You think I look like a strawberry ice too?” Emma groaned.

“The most sophisticated strawberry ice in all of London,” Helen declared with mock solemnity. “Now then, shall we go to the blue parlour? Your sister’s port is calling, and I have several more completely scandalous suggestions for dealing with our dear Dr Moreland that I simply cannot voice sober or in polite company.”

As Helen guided her through the crowd with the skill of a seasoned navigator, Emma felt the knot in her chest beginning to loosen. She might be dressed like a confection and her heart might still ache, but with Helen by her side, she felt like she could face anything. Even as a pink confection.

“Oh!” Helen stopped suddenly, her eyes widening with delight. “Is that Lord Kincaid I see? My goodness, he looks like an angel.”

Emma’s mouth gaped open. “You knew? You knew! Why didn’t you tell me Michael was a lord?”

Helen’s mouth twitched in a suppressed grin. “And ruin the surprise? I’ve been dying to tell you in all honesty, but I wanted to see your face when you learned of it.” She looked at her friend pointedly. “Now, does his title make him more attractive?”

“Not to me.” Emma’s gaze involuntarily drifted to Everett. The line of her lips thinned as she realised he was charming a young woman.

“Darling, if it weren’t for your dress, I’d have mistaken you for a bull readying for a fight,” Helen said as her eyes followed her friend’s. “Come, let us drink and discuss whether your former or current lover cuts a finer figure in evening dress.”

Emma couldn’t quite quell her smile. “I may have my prejudices.”

“For or against your beloved?”

Helen provided a much-needed distraction for a short time, but too soon, Emma returned to her duty as the sister of the host and hostess. As more guests arrived, she remained achingly aware of Everett’s location in the room, as if some treacherous part of her body had oriented itself to his presence. His every movement drew her attention; the way he carried himself with that quiet authority, how his shoulders filled out his evening coat, the grace with which he navigated the crowd. Most infuriating was how he seemed to know exactly when she was watching him, turning just enough to catch her gaze with that insufferable half-smile.

Everett stood slightly apart from the crowd; his eyes drawn inexorably to Emma. She was a vision of feminine beauty in pale pink, her golden hair adorned with glittering jewels that caught the light with every movement. The silk gown accentuated her figure in a way her usual practical attire never did, and Everett found himself transfixed.

Despite the ache in his leg and the weight of her ire, Everett couldn’t help but feel a flutter in his chest at the sight of her. She carried herself with poise and grace, yet the tension in her posture spoke of her discomfort as she conducted the social niceties of the receiving line.

His appreciation, however, was marred by the unsettling attention Michael Kincaid was paying to Emma. The man’s smile was too familiar, the brief touches on the small of her back too intimate. Everett felt a surge of possessiveness, coupled with a twinge of jealousy he knew he had no right to feel.

While Emma was engaged in an animated conversation with Mr Martin Crane, a prominent member of parliament, Everett found a secluded alcove, gratefully sinking onto a velvet-upholstered settee. He stretched out his aching leg, wincing slightly as he massaged his thigh. The din of the party faded to a distant hum in this hidden corner.

His moment of respite was short-lived. A flash of pink announced Emma’s arrival, her eyes gleaming with barely contained fury as she swept into the alcove.

“Dr Moreland,” she spat, her voice low and dangerous. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

Everett didn’t wish to do anything except admire her in that moment. Her cheeks were flushed with anger, eyes bright with determination. She was magnificent in her rage.

He offered her a roguish grin. “Miss Brown, how kind of you to seek me out. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten our little arrangement.”

“Spare me your charm,” she hissed. “What did you do with my research?”

Everett leaned back, affecting a casual air. “Oh, that? I’m afraid it met an untimely end in my fireplace. Terribly careless of me.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying. No physician worth his salt would destroy valuable data, no matter how inconvenient it might be.”

“My, my,” Everett chuckled, “you do think highly of my professional integrity. I’m flattered.”