The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga) (16 page)

“Not long ago.
I apologize for taking so long. I had a family emergency.” Thomas stood up and
strolled toward Amesbury’s bedside. “How is he?”

“He has not
retched in several hours, which I must believe is a good thing.” Myles’s brows
rose. “What family emergency would that be?”

Thomas
explained what transpired between him, his brother, and Emma. Leaving out the
pertinent fact that he nearly seduced Emma into giving him her innocence, which
he certainly would have taken if they had not been interrupted. He had been so
lost in her that he’d been incapable of realizing the consequences that would
have occurred because of it. Also, he left out his botched marriage proposal.
That was an embarrassment not to be made light of at the moment.

“Maybe you
should marry the chit, like I said last year.” Myles paused and grinned. “I saw
the way you two looked at each other when you danced at the Caulfields’ ball.
Admit it. You are smitten with the girl.”

Damn his friend
for reading him so well. “I can’t marry her, and you know why.”

Myles burst out
laughing. Then he grinned widely. “Come on, you’re a duke. You can do anything
you want. Marry who you want.”

“What if she
found out the true story regarding her father? She would hate me,” he scoffed.
“Call me vain, but I prefer to marry someone who will not come to loathe the
sight of me.”

“It could be
worse. Emma could be married to someone else an ocean away.” His friend’s voice
and expression turned melancholy.

Thomas winced
at the pain he witnessed on Myles’s face. “Sorry. Listen, do you mind staying
here so I can attend the Boonevilles’ soiree for a couple of hours tonight?
Then I’ll return and you can go home and get some rest.”

“Why not? My
mother can chaperone Marissa. It’s not like there are any ladies attending
tonight that I want to see. And I am sick to death of the marriage-mamas
dodging my every step and thrusting their young daughters in my face. Have they
no shame?”

Thomas shrugged
his shoulders. “Apparently not.”

***

Emma took extra
care with her toilette that evening. Rosie outdid herself by sweeping Emma’s
hair high on her head and letting long ringlets cascade down her back. Her maid
also intertwined burgundy-colored ribbons in her hair. The rose evening gown
she chose had burgundy piping and ribbons that were of the same shade as those
in her hair. The gown’s ribbons tied high on her waist, accentuating the full
swell of Emma’s breasts quite nicely. A devious smile broke out on her face as
she imagined His Grace’s eyes bulging out of his head at the sight of her
exposed flesh.

“Lordy, Miss,
how lovely you look. Every man’s eyes will be upon you this evening.” As Rosie
commented, she draped Emma’s matching rose pelisse over her shoulders and
pulled up the fur-trimmed hood. “It won’t be long before you catch yourself a
husband. No, it won’t indeed, not with you looking so fetching.”

“Thank you,
Rosie,” she murmured as she placed her hand on her stomach. It had suddenly
decided to harvest butterflies…by the dozens.

Several moments
later Emma stood stiffly, glancing out through the large leaded window in the
drawing room, waiting for Bella, Amelia, and the dowager duchess to join her.
The sun had set and gas lampposts lit by the night sentry cast shadows across
the street. The clip-clop of horses’ hooves traveled to her ears as carriages
went by. She imagined the occupants were anxious to arrive at their
destinations.

Footsteps
behind Emma had her twirling around, and she found herself face to face with her
nemesis. Her knees weakened, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and
ignored the nervous vibration of her hands.

She
acknowledged him in a quiet voice. “Your Grace. I did not realize you were
accompanying us this evening.” She lied. Rosie had let that snippet drop a few
hours earlier. Servants possessed a wealth of information and shared it in an
unabashed fashion. At least that was what Rosie told her. Giles, who guarded
the duke’s privacy as if he were the king himself, was generally the exception.

The duke cut a
fine figure in his white ruffled shirt, white cravat, black waistcoat, and
matching jacket. His black breeches hugged every muscle in his thighs and
continued down to his stockings and shoes. Emma forced her eyes away from his
legs. That was when she noticed one side of his mouth twitched uncomfortably as
his gaze raked up and down her body. His eyes rested briefly on her
décolletage, then he nodded his head as if approving of her attire.

Wentworth’s
deep blue eyes bore into hers. “My, don’t you look fetching this evening. Are
you hoping to snag a husband?”

It took all she
had not to reveal how much his comment hurt her. Why was he acting mean? He
would forever confuse her; one moment he tried seducing her, and the next he
insulted her. Tonight she would not let him disturb her.

Emma’s lips
spread into a wide smile. “Is that not the point to these social gatherings,
Your
Grace
? Even a girl, born and raised in such a savage place as America,
realizes the significance of a London Season and how important it is to catch
just the right gentleman.”

He raised his
brows. “Indeed.”

“Several I met
this past week have caught my eye.” Emma fluttered her lashes and caressed the
top of her exposed bosom with her fingers. She smirked in satisfaction when Wentworth’s
eyes immediately followed her hand, causing his nostrils to flare. Let him look
his fill…all he wanted, because he would never, ever touch her again.

“A certain
handsome and brave Major Fontaine has expressed interest in me. He came to call
today. Unfortunately, I was indisposed at the time, but he did say he would
attend this evening’s soirée. He left his card, requesting a dance.”

She paused,
flipped open her fan, and fluttered it while she peered at Wentworth from
behind it. “He requested a waltz, no less. What do you make of that, Your
Grace?”

 The esteemed
duke frowned and his face flushed red, causing her pulse to spike. If he
reacted this way to the mere mention of her waltzing with another man she could
not wait to flirt shamelessly with the major that evening.

“I would say be
very, very careful with him.” Thomas paused, pulled his timepiece out of his
waistcoat pocket, and frowned. “Fontaine has a certain reputation for seducing
unsuspecting young ladies.”

Emma gasped,
and bugger all, he noticed her reaction to his words. What he alluded to. He
raised his brow and smirked knowingly as she blushed, obviously aware he’d
unsettled her.

“He never goes
too far and is always careful not to be caught. However, he has a wagging
tongue. I would hate to find myself at one of my clubs with your name
circulating as his latest conquest, my dear.”

Somehow Thomas
knew she was not serious about her flirtatiousness. Was she that transparent?
He saw right through her plan to flirt mercilessly this evening.

Damn the
bloody, black-hearted rogue. In his own way, he was laughing at her. Emma spun
around and strolled out of the drawing room––her chin held high as she ignored
him and his damn smirking lips. Once she considered them kissable; now she
wanted to sink her teeth into them.

“There you
are.” She sighed, her heart slowing its pace as she found Bella, Amelia, and
their mother donning their pelisses. She did not need to turn to know
he
stood
beside her. Every nerve in her body tingled with awareness. His proximity
unsettled her.

“Ladies…” He
bowed impeccably. “Why, each of you is a unique vision of loveliness. I pity
the young gentlemen this evening. For surely their hearts will be plucked right
from their chests.”

Both his
sisters laughed.

“Come now.” The
duchess scowled. “We are late as it is; let us be off. The sooner we arrive,
the more quickly I can get home and nurse my headache.”

Thomas looked
worried. “Why don’t you stay home? I am perfectly capable of chaperoning these
ladies tonight.”

The duchess sighed
and rubbed her temples with her fingers. “You know, I believe I will. I am so
tired and worried about Sebastian.” She turned away. “Goodnight, all, and have
a good time.”

During the
carriage ride Thomas tried his best to ignore Emma, sitting across from him.
But the several times their knees bumped his cock leaped, as well as his pulse
and his heart. What the bloody hell possessed him to offer to chaperone Emma
and his sisters tonight without his mother’s help? How could he be watching all
three at once?

Amelia, if she
were truly smitten with Captain Rycroft, would need watching. The Boonevilles’
Mayfair mansion had extensive gardens. The many paths winding in all directions
were never well lit. He’d spent many a night taking liberties with his female
friends in those gardens.

The thought of
Captain Rycroft putting his hands on Amelia before the wedding night caused his
blood to boil. If it killed him, he would make damn sure his sister stayed
chaste, at least until Rycroft asked permission for her hand.

 He needn’t
worry about Isabella at present. She had eyes only for Myles. It would have
been convenient if Myles returned the sentiment. He could not think of a finer
man to have for a brother-in-law. Maybe time would heal his friend’s broken
heart and he would see what was in front of him, instead of pining away for a
married woman an ocean away.

As the carriage
came to a halt Thomas’s mind concentrated on Emma. One of his eyes would be on
her at all times. If she dared go outside with Fontaine, or any other gentleman
for that matter, he would be lurking in the shadows making sure any man did not
so much as touch one hair on her head. If they did, he would bloody their
noses. Call them out. He did not spend all those hours in the boxing ring for
naught.

Besides, no one
else was going to touch her, only him. His stomach coiled. Hell and damnation,
she’d tunneled into his heart and had nested there but good.

Thomas stood at
the back of the ballroom, straining to monitor his sisters and Emma. He scowled
when Major Fontaine approached Emma with a wide grin plastered on his pale face
and roaming eyes focused on her ample bosom that showed above her low neckline.
It took all the control he had not to storm across the ballroom and pummel the
major with his fists.

Then he saw
Lady Beth walking gracefully across the ballroom floor straight at him.

“Your Grace.”
Lady Beth curtsied. May I inquire as to the health of Lord Amesbury? Word has
it he is seriously ill.”

Thomas could
hear the concern in Lady Beth’s voice and see it on her face. His heart began
to pound with dread because of what he needed to do. “Amesbury is recovering
nicely. There is no need to worry.” He paused to clear his throat. “I believe
what ails Amesbury has to do with his upcoming nuptials.”

“Oh?”

Was that
response all Lady Beth had to say on the matter? Bloody hell, she was not
making this easy on him. “I believe he admires you and wants the best for you.
For those reasons he would like to call off the wedding and beg your
forgiveness for doing so. I cannot tell you more, other than it’s not because
he favors another. Rest easy in that regard. Of course, only you can break this
off. Out of courtesy and to ease his mind, would you do this for him?”

Thomas did not
know what to make of the expression that crossed Lady Beth’s beautiful pale
face. He glimpsed anguish, relief, or perhaps a little bit of both.

“Yes, of
course. I will have Papa make an announcement in tomorrow’s paper.” Good
evening, Your Grace. And thank you.” Lady Beth curtsied and left as gracefully
as she arrived. Thomas grimaced, convinced he would probably forever tell
himself he did the right thing for Amesbury’s sake. But had he?

His eyes found
Emma and Major Fontaine. They took the floor as the first strings of a waltz
were played. He swore under his breath. Who could he dance with to get closer
to them? Ahh…Myles’s sister, Marissa, had just arrived with her mother. The
duke decided it was time to make his move.

Making his way
around the crowd, he finally reached Marissa, took her hand, and bowed over it.
“Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, Lady Marissa?”

Marissa eyed
him suspiciously.
Damn, she knew me too well.
However, she took pity on
him and placed her gloved hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her to the
floor.

“And to whom do
I owe this honor of a dance with you? Did my brother put you up to this?” She
laughed, her eyes roaming the room. “Did he think no one would ask me to dance
this evening? Does he have so little faith in my abilities to charm the
gentlemen that he had to beg his friend, a duke no less, to take pity on me?”

Thomas found
himself so enjoying Marissa’s witty company that he nearly forgot about Emma.
But not completely, as he managed quite nicely to maneuver them so they danced
side by side. The sight of the major’s hand on Emma had Thomas’s body coiling
up so tight, he almost missed a step.

Marissa eyed
him curiously. “Come now, Your Grace, what has you tense and frowning so?”

He leaned close
so no one could hear. “Now what gave you the idea I was tense? And I hardly
ever frown.”

“If you say
so.” She laughed and followed his eyes to Emma. “She is quite beautiful. Who is
she?”

“Miss Emma
Hamilton, my ward.”

“Ahh, so that
is the lady Myles speaks of so fondly.” She grinned, her emerald eyes alight.
“So that vision of loveliness is the mysterious lady you and Myles went to
America to collect? I have heard she has many suitors clamoring for her favor.”
Marissa fluttered her lashes. “Are you one of those vying for her attention,
Your Grace?”

He found himself
chuckling. “You always did know how to read me.”