Prince of Dreams (Stokehurst #2)(99)

Emma pinched him discreetly for the rude remark and cleared her throat. “Perhaps Nikolas will accompany you.”

Luke regarded Nikolas speculatively. “Yes, why don't you?”

Jake and the other children began to clamor for Nikolas to go with them, and he complied reluctantly, giving Emma a deadly glance. She smiled sweetly in return, hoping that her father would find an opportunity to say a few private words to Nikolas. At the very least, it would be good for both of them to spend time together.

Crossing through the central hall, Emma continued toward the kitchen. All at once a strange feeling caused the back of her neck to prickle, and her steps slowed. She felt as if there were something wrong, as if a shadow were descending on the house. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she saw Stanislaus welcome a trio of guests into the hall. The first person she recognized was Mr. Oliver Brixton, the American enamelware manufacturer who had once been a guest at the Angelovsky manor. He was the brother of the woman Adam Milbank had married. Then a small, plain-faced woman appeared, dressed in expensive silk and lace, her hair arranged in a neat, practical style. She was on the arm of a dark-haired man with very familiar features.

Adam had come to the Christmas party…and he had brought his wife.

Emma was motionless, while her thoughts raced in wild confusion. How was it possible? An invitation had been sent to Mr. Brixton, more as a courtesy than as an actual expectation of his attendance. But he had decided to come, and in an astonishing breach of etiquette, he had brought the Milbanks with him. Brixton was smiling easily, clearly having forgotten about Emma's former relationship with Adam. But Charlotte Milbank knew. Curiosity and mistrust shone in her gray eyes as she stared at Emma.

Emma's heart began to pound so heavily that it seemed to knock against her ribs. A light sweat broke out on her face. Why was Adam here? What did he intend? People would be watching and wondering, holding their breath to see if there would be trouble between Adam and Nikolas. She forced a smile on her lips, and went forward to welcome them. Mr. Brixton's homely but kind face lit up, and he kissed her hand.

“Happy Christmas, Your Highness.”

Emma murmured a reply and lowered her gaze to Adam's wife, who was at least a head shorter than she.

Charlotte Milbank surprised her by speaking first, in a tone that was well modulated but threaded with steel. Her deep voice was incongruous, coming from a small, pudgy woman. “I hope you are able to accommodate an extra pair of guests, Your Highness. I'm afraid I insisted on accompanying my brother to your party. Ever since I moved to England, I've heard everyone talking about Prince Nikolas and his magnificent estate—not to mention his wife and her menagerie.”

Emma kept her gaze on the woman, not daring to look at Adam. “You and your family are quite welcome to share Christmas with us, Lady Milbank.”

Even as the name left her lips, it sent an odd feeling down Emma's spine. Lady Milbank—the title she had once longed for more than anything else.

Charlotte Milbank's face was round and boneless, but her skin was flawless, a beautiful milk white with just a hint of pink in her cheeks. Perhaps if she were possessed of a vivacious personality, she could be considered attractive, but there was accusation in her flint-gray eyes, and her small mouth was tight and unsmiling.

Emma had the strange urge to console the woman. You have nothing to fear from me, she longed to say. Instead she smiled politely and drew Charlotte toward a nearby group of guests in the drawing room, introducing her to each of them. Brixton and Adam lingered behind, while Brixton admired the huge tree in the central hall.

Emma left Charlotte Milbank's side and began to mingle with other guests, but her gaze darted restlessly around the scene. Nikolas would return soon—she had to find him. He must be warned that Brixton and the Milbanks were attending. She refused to look at Adam, although she sensed that he was staring at her. Damn you, Adam, she thought angrily. Why must you make trouble for me? What's done is done. You left me and married someone else, and I managed to recover from the hurt. Now let me get on with my life!

Moving through the crowd, Emma played the part of hostess, and finally took a moment to glance at Adam. He wore a pleasant expression, but he seemed tense, his smile forced. His wife was at his side, her round white hand poised on his arm. Emma overheard a brief portion of their conversation as she walked near them. Adam was attempting to tell a story.

“…friends of ours employed a rather haughty footman dressed in the most splendid blue livery—”

“Black livery, dear,” Charlotte interrupted gently.

Adam continued as if he hadn't heard her. “—and we were walking in their garden, beside the yew hedges—”

“They were fruit trees, darling,” Charlotte corrected.

“—when we heard the most frightful yelp, and splash! The footman had slipped and fallen into the fish pond on his way to the carriage house. I've never laughed so much.”

“It was quite vulgar,” Charlotte added primly.

Emma felt a touch at her elbow and turned to find Tasia beside her. Tasia's face was soft with concern. She indicated the Milbanks with a flicker of her gaze. “I see you have unexpected company,” she said quietly.

Emma made a comical face and sighed. “When Nikolas sees them—”

“Nikolas won't make a scene,” Tasia assured her. “He has too much self-control.”