The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga) (26 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Emma sat at the
desk in the room she had previously occupied at Wentworth House. She refused to
stay in the room adjoining her husband’s. And it was difficult to be back in
the place she first admitted to herself she’d fallen in love with him. Emma
might even have fallen in love with Thomas the moment she saw his arrogant,
snobbish self that long-ago day at Miss Beauregard’s. She didn’t admit it to
herself, however, until she had arrived in London.

Now that she
was back in London, she needed to plan her return to America in case it came
down to that. However, she could not bring herself to make the list of what she
needed to do. Later, there would be plenty of time to take care of the details.

Dressed in a lovely
pale green morning dress with embroidered white flowers scattered here and
there on the skirt, Emma made her way to the breakfast room. Her spirits were
high as she anticipated seeing Thomas. She chastised herself for hoping to see
him. Though she knew the ugly truth now, leaving him, if it came to that, would
be harder than she’d planned. But how could she stay with him, or even want to
stay with him, after what she’d found out? Perhaps it was because she’d heard
that hate and love were strong emotions and linked to each other. Because as
much as she hated what had transpired between Thomas and her papa, her love
would not be silenced. It kept crawling into her heart and nudging her whenever
she let her guard down.

And now that
they were here, in his London home, would Thomas produce the evidence of his
innocence that he said he had. And if it meant so much to him, as he stated in
his missive to her, why had he not rushed to show her his proof last night
during their meal together?

Perhaps he did
not want her to stay. Perhaps he was glad to get rid of her and be the carefree
bachelor once again so he could prowl the drawing rooms and salons with his
friends, Myles and Amesbury.

“Oh, Dear God,”
she thought, sinking down into a chair at the table, her knees weak as a
babe’s. Emma envisioned her husband dancing and laughing with a beautiful,
dark-haired lady with flawless skin and perfect features.

As she sat
there, shaking her head to clear the image, he found her.

“Is something
wrong with your head? Because if you keep shaking it as you are you will rattle
your brain. Of course, that’s assuming you still have one.”

“I beg your
pardon? Are you questioning my intelligence?” Anger seethed through her veins,
taking over the longing she had felt only moments before.

“Take it
however you wish.” He wanted their meals dished out, so he signaled the servant
standing at attention against the wall. Once seated across from her, he barely
gave her the time of day, intent on drinking his coffee and filling his face with
what she could only assume was delicious food. The food she put in her mouth
had no taste.
How dare he ignore me?

“When do you
plan to show me my father’s will and the letter you say accompanied it? I would
like to get on with my life and book my passage to America in case . . .” It
amazed her that she could sound so cold and unfeeling. He could never know the
deep love she had for him.

***

Thomas’s hand
paused as he lifted the forkful of eggs toward his mouth. Emma’s soft voice had
said the words he dreaded, booking passage to America. Why the bloody hell was
he eating? The food tasted like hay; he swallowed and forced it down. And why
was he being so mean to her this morning? Was he not trying to win her over?

If Thomas were
a smart gentleman, he would run to his study, open his desk, and procure the
will and letter that proved his innocence in the scheme her father had planned
and played out. But for some reason he hesitated to do just that. He wanted to
prove his innocence, but more importantly, he wanted to show Emma he cared for
her deeply and would do anything not to hurt her. Reading her father’s letter
would hurt her.

And if he were
to win her heart, he would do it without providing the proof she needed. He
wanted her to love him regardless of what happened in the past. Because, God
help him, he loved her with an intensity that frightened the hell out of him.

Then he
realized he’d never answered her. “I have them locked in my study. But before I
show them to you, I hope you will let us spend some time together. I hope you
will give me time to redeem myself and prove myself worthy of you.”

“I am not sure
I can allow you this. I have a right to know everything. And if you think to
distract me, you are mistaken. Meanwhile, I will think upon your request.” She
curtsied. “If you will excuse me, I have things to take care of now.”

The lifeless
tone of her voice shocked him. Thomas rose and followed her out into the main
hall and hesitatingly touched her elbow to get her attention. “Please, Emma,
come with me.”

Thomas led her
into his study, ignoring the angry looks she cast his way. Then he did the only
thing he could think of at the moment, the one thing he’d dreamed about for
days. He snaked his arm around her waist, pulled her tightly against his hard
body, and before she could protest, his mouth claimed hers in a demanding kiss.

***

Emma’s lips
burned from the fierce contact. Thomas’s lips broke contact from hers just long
enough to whisper, “Open for me.”

Foolishly she
did. When Thomas kissed her, his tongue swept so thoroughly around the inside
of her mouth that Emma had no control over her body. Her arms wrapped around
his neck, and she swayed into him. If she could crawl inside him at that
moment, she would have. As close as they were it was not nearly close enough.
Her body wanted things, yet if her mind were functioning properly, it would not
have allowed them.

Her body won.

When his lips
left her mouth and traveled lower they left a scalding trail behind. A moan
escaped her lips as her bones melted and her hands tightened around his neck.
He alone kept her standing.

In the back of
her mind Emma knew she should stop Thomas as his fingers deftly worked the
buttons on the front of her dress. But, dear God, just his knuckles making
contact with her bare skin burned her. Before she could comprehend, she stood
before him naked to the waist, her nipples hard and her breasts heavy, begging
for his touch.

“Ahh, yes,”
escaped her lips as his mouth clamped down on her sensitive nipple. He suckled
it into his mouth and she gasped as heat shot between her thighs. All reason
fled, and she begged him to touch her. With one swipe of his hand he cleared
his desk and gently laid her down, lifted her skirts, pulled her pantaloons
down around her ankles, and buried his head between her thighs.

Her body
working on instinct, she wrapped her legs around Thomas’s head. At first Emma
felt a little pulling in her stomach and a full sensation down low. Her body
wanted to open itself up and take Thomas inside. She needed––oh dear, she did
not know what she needed.

 Her body
tensed up, her back arched, and her hips thrust up against his mouth over and
over. She sought, wanted, needed… And then it happened. Her vision blurred, the
room spun, her body convulsed over and over, her knees clamped around his ears,
and she moaned until she reentered her body and her surroundings became clear
once again.

Emma waited for
shame and remorse to hit her. They did not. Not even when Thomas smoothed down
her skirts and grinned like a schoolboy who got caught doing something naughty.

Thomas’s hands
went to the front of his breeches and unbuttoned the flap, and his erection
sprung free. Emma gasped at the sight of it––her first glimpse of what would go
inside her body. The size of it, hard and pulsing, intrigued her. And before
she knew it, she’d wrapped her hand around his shaft.

“Oh,” she
murmured, surprised it was smooth and silky to the touch. Thomas moaned and she
squeezed a bit. He jerked, then curled his hand around hers and proceeded to
guide her so it traveled up and down his shaft, faster and faster until he
threw his head back.

 After a few
moments’ pause, Thomas fumbled in his pocket, produced his handkerchief, and
wiped his semen off Emma’s hand, his cock, and the rug. Emma’s face heated up
as she felt the embarrassment for what she had done. Was she not supposed to be
angry at him?

Now she was
angry at him for trying to seduce her so she might change her mind about
leaving him. But, oh, how she loved and wanted him.

 After Thomas
tucked his member inside his breeches, his lips brushed her ear and he
whispered, “If you will allow me access to your bed tonight, I will finish the
final act and bring down the curtain. I await your command.” Thomas stepped
away from her, bowed, turned and walked away.

At first she
did not understand what he said. Then it dawned on her. The final act was him
pushing his engorged penis inside her, taking her virginity. Something she
could not allow – not if an annulment were to be granted. But, oh, she sighed,
how she wanted to know what it felt like to be taken completely by him. To have
him fill her up until she thought of nothing else but her body wrapping itself
around him and loving him.

But resigning
herself to being a virgin spinster in the years ahead, she exited Thomas’s
study knowing she could not. Instead, she sought pen and parchment. She might
as well start writing again as it would be the only thing to keep her company
in the long, lonely years ahead.

Later that day
the carriage carrying Bella, Amelia, and the dowager duchess would arrive. She
would probably step back into the season as it was not even half over. Emma
wondered if she would be able to attend the London balls and soirees now that
she was married.

Doubtful.

Was not the
point of the season to see and be seen by available suitors and find a suitable
match for life? But oh, how could she go back to her boring live after all
she’d experienced with Thomas? Could she really go back to America with the
love she had for Thomas bursting inside her? Time would tell.

And if she had
to go back…she would.

If she intended
to be the Jane Austen of America, she needed more experience and inspiration
for her stories. Perhaps, if she asked, Thomas would escort her one last time
if she did decide to leave. Because how could she convince readers her
characters were attending a lavish royal ball if she had no firsthand knowledge
of one?

Of course, she
could tell herself that was the reason she wanted to attend, but deep
down––inside her heavy heart and sinking soul––her reasons had nothing
whatsoever to do with penning a novel.

They had
everything to do with spending as much time with the duke as possible, while
she could. If only her pride would allow her to be truthful with him about the
love she held inside her chest. A love only meant for him.

Not only that,
she had not even met the much-talked-about Prince Regent. How could she set one
foot on a ship that would sail away forever, until she at least caught sight of
him?

Emma would soon
read her papa’s letter and uncover the complete truth of the past. She needed
to make a life-altering decision. Afterwards, if it explained things clearly,
would she walk away from the love of her life, or would she stay and make the
best life she possibly could for herself?

Emma massaged
her temples to ease the pain in her head. Some decisions were just too painful
to undertake.

***

Early that
afternoon, as Emma rested in her room, a note arrived for her––a note from her
papa’s barrister in London.

Dear Duchess
of Wentworth:

I would like
to congratulate you on your recent marriage to the duke. However, I must meet
with you on a matter of utmost urgency. There seems to be some discrepancy
about your father’s will, and we need to meet to discuss it. At precisely nine
this evening I will send a carriage for you. It will be parked on the corner.
Please use caution when leaving to meet me. I fear for your safety.

Sincerely,

Mr. James
Webster, Barrister

What did he
mean, fear for her safety? Surely he did not mean she had something to fear
from Thomas. Did he?

“Oh, Papa, how
I wish you were here. My mind and heart ache,” Emma whispered in her empty
bedchamber. But there was no answer.

No matter, she
would sneak out and meet this barrister. All she had to do was excuse herself
after dinner and wait until nine.

Easier said
than done, because as Emma waited for the set time, her heart pounded inside
her chest at her deception. She had never been good at deception, even during
her stay at Miss Beauregard’s when the other girls often took to deceiving.

But this time
she’d done it. Even now, as she descended the front stairs without being
caught, she could not believe she had pulled it off.

There, parked
on the corner, was her waiting carriage.

As Emma
approached it, a sense of foreboding settled around her, causing her body to
quake and her heart to pound.
Am I doing the right thing? Could I be putting
myself in danger by meeting my papa’s barrister like this?

Her eyes
scanned the area around her, and all appeared normal. She wrapped her cloak
tightly around herself, warding off the chill that had overtaken her bones.

“Your Grace.” A
man stepped out from the coach, dressed completely in black. His hand reached
out toward her. “This way, if you please.”

Run!
She
sensed something was wrong. She turned to return to the house.

Then it
happened, as it had long ago when she was a child. A vile-smelling cloth
covered her mouth and she struggled to breathe…and then nothing.