O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,79

Selim, an old friend from Joe’s days in the Ottoman Empire.”

Selim left his ladder and strolled forward, hand outstretched.

Davitt accepted it, though only with two fingers. His expression was faintly amused. “A prince of the Ottoman Empire? How exotic. How does one become such? By being related to the Sultan, or for service rendered?”

“Both,” said Selim, casually dropping the two fingers. “How do you do, Lord Davitt?” Having thus out-mannered the English nobleman, he turned to Emma. “Did you want the last trailing garland on the other side of the fireplace?”

“Oh, yes, if you wouldn’t mind,” Emma said quickly, turning to her sister-in-law. “Do you like what we’ve done, Hazel?”

“Charming and tasteful,” Hazel pronounced. “Well done, Emma and Selim.”

Selim tied the garland without mishap, and Joe summoned a footman to take the ladders away and bring wine to the salon, where they all repaired.

“Does this fuss over Christmas not offend you, Prince?” Davitt asked, taking a chair near Emma—who had sat beside Joe on the sofa deliberately to avoid closeness with either Davitt or Selim.

Selim’s eyebrows flew up. “Of course not.”

“But you are not a Christian, are you?”

“No, sir, I am a Muslim. And happy in the customs of my hosts.”

A sensible man would have left it there. But Davitt was obviously determined to pursue the differences. “And yet surely you cannot join in our celebrations of the birth of Jesus Christ? Not with sincerity.”

Selim smiled. “With complete sincerity, sir. My people rejoice in his birth and revere him as a great prophet. Are you interested in theology?”

Clearly, he was more than capable of defending himself from Davitt, all with perfect civility.

“Theology? Not deeply,” Davitt said hastily. In fact, he was not a religious or an academic man and looked very grateful when Joe presented him with a glass and turned the conversation to wine.

Selim, who did not drink wine, glanced at Emma, his eyes gleaming with mischief. She would have laughed, had she not been so conscious of the answer she owed Davitt.

She was grateful, in a cowardly kind of way, when Hazel swept her up to change for dinner, making sure she did not fall into private company with either Davitt or Selim. In fact, Emma took her arm and dragged her into her bedchamber before closing the door.

“What am I going to do?” Emma demanded. “Why did Davitt have to come now?”

“Clearly, he is anxious for an answer,” Hazel replied calmly. “But you don’t have to give him one, Emma. At least not yet. It is too big a decision to allow yourself to be forced into making it before you are ready.”

“Oh, I have made it,” Emma said. “I just don’t want to make us all uncomfortable with it.”

Hazel sat on the edge of the bed and regarded her. “Has Selim proposed to you?”

Emma flushed. “No, of course not. But it seems I can’t marry without love, and I don’t love Davitt.”

“Then, should you not tell him so at once?”

“Yes.” Emma sighed. “But I know Mama and Roberta want me to marry him.”

“It is a good match that would keep you close to them.”

“I think I would rather be like you, traveling all over the world with Joe.”

“I’m sure you could come, too.”

Emma smiled. “You know very well I don’t mean with you and Joe. But I’m reaching for the impossible. To him, I’m only Joe’s little sister.”

“There has never been much only about you, Emma.”

“And he is an exile with no home and a different religion. I barely know him.”

“For what it is worth,” Hazel said carefully, “I did not really know Joe well when we married. As it happened, I knew enough. But you need not rush this, Emma. Any of it.”

Impulsively, Emma hugged her.

When she had changed for dinner, she thought rather cravenly of waiting in her chamber until she was sure everyone would have gathered. But in the end, she threw her shoulders back and descended the stairs. After all, it was hardly the first offer of marriage she had rejected.

As she suspected, she found the drawing room empty of all save Lord Davitt, whose face lit up as she entered.

“Miss Sayle!” He hurried across the room to greet her. “I hoped we would find a few moments alone.” He squeezed her hand and led her to the sofa nearest the fireplace. When she sat, he draped himself beside her, turned toward her with his arm along the sofa back. “Dare I hope you have thought about my offer?”

“I have,” Emma said.