Accidentally in Love Read Online Free Page A

Emeline suggested.
    “With pink and mauve roses just above the brim,” the milliner said, looking far less horrified. “Madame, I believe it would suit. Miss Harlow has the sort of face and the bearing to manage it. It would be very fashionable, very much of the moment.”
    “A bit of a risk?” Mama said.
    “Is this not the time and place to take a risk?” Emeline asked, knowing the problem of the hat was solved. Mama was not, and never had been, afraid of risk.
    Sensing she had made the sale, Madame Lacroix said, “Perhaps a few violets of more blue than purple hue, to add a spark of excitement to the effect?”
    “Very daring,” Mrs. Culley said.
    Mama loved to be daring, within limits.
    “Very well,” Mama said. “Make it up and have it sent round to Dover Street. Not too daring, mind. My daughter must be seen as fashionable, not forward.”
    “Of course, Madame.”
    The problem of the bonnet was resolved. Emeline was not adverse to shopping. She could shop for hours and not tire. Shopping in London should have met, and exceeded, her every shopping desire. It might have, if Kit had not been in London at the same time and if Kit did not treat her like a sister. She had to convince him she was not his sister, even though it was flatly obvious that she was not, and she could not convince him if she was in one shop after another. Kit was not going to stroll through the shops, and if he was not at her elbow, she could not convince him of anything. It was extremely frustrating.
    “Are you in need of a hat, Mrs. Culley?” Mama asked. “Those ostrich feathers look interesting.”
    Oh, Lud, would they never leave this shop?
    It was just then that Kit walked by the shop, his very elegant profile illuminated by a stray sunbeam.
    “Christopher?” Mrs. Culley said, her face breaking into a smile. Then she drooped a bit, her shoulders dropping, her head tilting, her spirit sinking a bit into the coarse boards of the shop. There was nothing unusual in that. Mrs. Culley wore a face for Kit that she did not wear for others of her acquaintance.
    Emeline darted to the door, opened it so fast that she hit her toes with it, winced, and called, “Kit!”
    Kit turned at the word, saw her face, blinked, braced, and then smiled. Braced. Then smiled. When had she become the woman Kit steeled himself to face?
    What was happening to them? They had always been so easy in each other’s company, so relaxed and so prone to laughter. In the last year, since her come-out had been arranged, her temper flared whenever she was with him and he turned as stoic as a stone. All the easiness was gone. In its place was prickling awareness, tension, stampeding emotion. She hated it. Usually. Some days she thrilled to ride in the midst of the stampede.
    “Emeline. I had not thought to see you until this evening.”
    He dipped his head in a bow, his hair falling forward to touch his brow; he flicked it back with an abrupt toss of his head. Two women in their forties, passing them in that moment, made murmuring sounds of flirtation and appreciation, she was certain of it.
    “We are hat shopping,” she said, watching the women until they were well out of earshot. “Your mother would like a new hat, one with ostrich feathers. I do think that she would relish your opinion on the matter,” she said. All one had to do to get Kit do what one wanted him to do was to use his mother as a whip.
    She had known Kit and Mrs. Culley all her life; was she expected to not know how things worked?
    “Of course.”
    “You’re not otherwise occupied? I thought your mother said you had an appointment?”
    “I did. With Lord Raithby. At White’s,” he said, walking behind her as the milliner’s assistant held the door open for them.
    “Christopher,” Mrs. Culley said, casting a melting gaze upon her eldest.
    “Mother. Emeline said you were shopping for a new hat?”
    “With ostrich feathers,” Emeline said.
    “Good day, Mrs. Harlow,” Kit said.
    “Mr.