Thwarting the Duke Page 22

  “I can’t sleep, either,” Mary said from her side of the room. “What’s keeping you awake? Thoughts of Lord Nathaniel, I wager.”

  It was on the tip of Emma’s tongue to tell her sister that she was wrong, but her feelings for Lucian were so new—and she was so unsure of them—that she wanted to keep them private for a bit longer. Yet, she immediately thought of the way he’d asked her of herself and how he had truly listened. And that led to thoughts of the delicious kiss he’d given her. “Yes,” she replied instead, “Nathan is most definitely in my thoughts.” And she had thought of him, of how her enchantment, nurtured since girlhood, had really been just that, so she wasn’t lying to her sister.

  Mary chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll get exactly what you want.”

  Emma bit her lip. The problem was that what she’d thought she wanted didn’t seem quite as clear as it had this morning. “Mary,” Emma began. “Did you see who rescued me that day I fell through the ice?”

  “No,” Mary replied, hesitantly. “I’d already fainted. I don’t understand. I thought you were sure it was Mr. Layton.”

  “I am. It’s just that Lady Edgeworth said the oddest thing at dinner.”

  “What?” Mary inquired.

  “She said that it was the Duke of Blackbourne who rescued me that day.”

  “What?” Mary jerked upright in bed. “What did Lord Nathaniel say? Did he hear her?”

  “Yes and no. He heard his name and I told him what she said. He said it was nonsense.”

  “Then dismiss your worries,” Mary said, the ever practical side of her coming out. “Lady Edgeworth simply has it wrong. Lord Nathaniel confirmed it.”

  “Yes, you’re right, of course. And the duke confirmed it himself by not correcting my belief the day I went to thank his brother.”

  “There now,” Mary said in a soothing voice. “You should most definitely put what she said out of your mind. The Duke of Blackbourne seems far too honorable not to tell the truth.”

  That was true. He did seem very honorable, and the truth was that it was rather attractive.

  Mary sank backward with a sigh. “I caught Lord Nathaniel staring at you many times tonight.”

  “Did you?” Emma murmured, hardly caring.

  “Yes. His Grace stared at you, too. He never even looked at me, but I caught him watching you several times. I think he must have been keeping an eye on his brother’s behavior. He seems to be his keeper.”

  “Yes,” Emma replied, her pulse racing, “I’m sure that must be it.” Her stomach tightened. But maybe Lucian had simply been watching her and only her.

  “Good night, Emma. Sweet dreams of your future husband.”

  An image of Lucian flashed in Emma’s head. She gulped. “Mary, do you believe in fate?” Emma had always thought that she’d climbed that tree years ago, fallen, been scolded by Mother and then soothed by Nathan because she was fated for him, but maybe all that had happened so she would end up at his birthday celebration and in Lucian’s arms.

  Mary sighed. “I don’t know, dearest. But quit fretting. If Lord Nathaniel is meant for you, all will be as it should. Or Mother will make it so for you,” Mary teased, then snickered.

  Emma groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. Mother. She would not be pleased if Emma disrupted her plan for Mary to capture Lucian, regardless of the fact that Mother herself had obviously noted that he did not seem interested in Mary.

  Soon after all their guests had departed, Nathaniel headed off to bed and Lucian poured himself three fingers of liquor before settling on a chair in his study opposite his mother and Danby. Lucian wanted to be alone to analyze what had happened with Lady Emmaline tonight, but his mother and great-uncle had followed him in here, despite the fact that he’d made it as clear as he could, without being rude, that he wished for solitude.

  He picked up a volume of Burns poems, whom he’d heard Lady Emmaline say was her favorite poet. Burns was his favorite, as well. He smiled, thinking it was something they had common.

  “What are you smiling about, darling?” His mother’s voice pierced through his thoughts. He glanced up from the book and met the curious gazes of his mother and great-uncle. With a sigh, he set the book back down on the table. Reading Lady Emmaline’s favorite poem would have to wait until later.

  “I’m smiling about poetry,” he only half lied. “It makes me happy.”

  His mother nodded. “That’s good, dear. Though, I think we should concentrate on what happened tonight. I don’t think your brother is at all interested in Lady Francine. I truly don’t think they’ll suit.”

  “I’m afraid I concur,” Lucian said. “I’ll have to let Nathaniel know that I won’t force the marriage, yet I think I’ll insist he acquire a profession. He needs direction and responsibility.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Danby said. “Perhaps Lady Emmaline will be the incentive Nathaniel needs to mature.”

  Lucian gripped the glass he’d just picked up. “Lady Emmaline?”

  His great-uncle nodded. “He seems quite taken by her. I heard him make a plan to call on her tomorrow to take her to your race.”

  “He what?” Lucian barked.

  Danby frowned. “You seem upset.”

  Lucian glared at his great-uncle, who sounded amused despite his expression. “Of course I’m upset. Nathaniel is not a good match for Lady Emmaline.”

  “Darling,” his mother interjected, “don’t you mean Lady Emmaline is not a good match for your brother?”

  He took a long swig of his drink, then set the glass down with a thunk. “Yes, of course that’s what I mean. A marriage between the two of them would be a disaster.”

  “Are you sure?” Danby prodded.

  “I’m positive,” Lucian thundered. “We need to keep the two of them apart and find a suitable lady to capture Nathaniel’s interest.”

  “Perhaps it would be easier to find a suitable gentleman to capture Lady Emmaline’s interest,” Danby suggested.

  “No,” Lucian growled, not liking the idea of another man’s lips on Lady Emmaline’s. His feelings of possessiveness puzzled him. Lady Emmaline wasn’t his. He didn’t even know her well enough to feel this way, not to mention that he was sure life with her would be anything but peaceful. And he wanted peace. He wanted a wife who would never cause him a moment’s concern. Didn’t he?

  He yanked on his cravat, and the bloody thing fell to the floor. Devil take it, kissing Lady Emmaline had clouded his judgment.

  How had he allowed that to happen? He almost laughed at the question. He knew damn well how it had happened. She’d licked her full lips and he’d felt himself burn with desire. She had taken a deep breath and her chest had risen invitingly. Yet it had been her wit, her honesty in the way she revealed what her mother wanted of her, that had made her impossible to resist. He simply had to kiss her and see for himself if she was as guileless and sweet as she seemed. And God help him, she was.

  “Lucian?”

  He jerked his gaze back to his mother at the sound of her voice. He never lost his focus. Ever. And he had done so several times tonight. He abruptly stood. “I’m to bed. I need to rise early.”

  “To be well rested for the race?” Danby inquired.

  “Among other things. I think I’ll call on Lady Emmaline and escort her to the race to avoid Nathaniel doing so.”

  “A sound plan,” Danby said, sounding pleased and looking oddly smug.

  Lucian frowned as his mother nodded, a satisfied look on her face as well. “A good idea considering you’re certain they’d be disastrous together.”

  Lucian nodded in return and then headed out the door and toward his bedchamber, thoughts of Lady Emmaline’s very kissable lips haunting him every step of the way.

  Curious about Danby’s opinion of Lucian and Lady Emmaline, Adelia watched with bated breath as Danby stared at the door Lucian had just fled through. Danby chuckled as he rose, poured a drink for himself, and went back to the settee to sit next to h
er. “I never thought I’d see this day.”

  Adelia exhaled, feeling supremely satisfied that Danby also noticed Lucian’s interest in Lady Emmaline. “Neither did I. I can tell you, I am greatly relieved that Lucian has finally encountered a woman who’s making him question his ideas of what he wants in a wife.”

  Danby took a sip of his drink, then set it down. “I have to admit that when you and my sister came to me and told me you thought Lady Emmaline had piqued Lucian’s attention, I thought the two of you absurd. And when you asked me to come here tonight and participate in your plan to secretly encourage him to spend time with her, well, I’m ashamed to say I only came to prove you wrong. I, of course, intended to make a perfect match for him myself. I’m rather good at that, if you’ll recall. I had a hand in many of my grandchildren’s happy marriages.”

  “I recall,” Adelia said, patting Danby affectionately on the knee. “David always said you were as wily as a fox.”

  “Your husband was my favorite nephew.”

  Adelia chuckled. “I’d wager you say that about all your nephews.”

  Danby tilted his glass to Adelia, as if in salute. “I do, but with your husband it was true. His death pained me greatly.”

  Adelia sighed. “As it did me.”

  This time Danby patted her hand. “Have you ever set Blackbourne straight about how his father died?”

  Adelia shook her head. “He still believes foolish flirting on my part led to his father fighting and losing a duel to protect my honor.”

  Danby scowled. “Why don’t you tell him the truth?”

  “He worshiped David. I refuse to destroy his belief that his father was less than perfect.”

  She twisted her wedding ring on her hand. After all these years, she’d never taken it off. Some nights, she would lie in the bed she’d shared with her husband, and she could still feel him beside her. His heat. His large body covering most of the mattress. It was true that she’d been the impetuous one and he the serious one, but together, they had perfectly balanced each other. She’d worked all their marriage to get David to release some of the stringent beliefs his father had hammered into him about how dukes should behave, and she’d succeeded somewhat. David had relaxed with her, of course, and with his closest friends, but never with his children. And the belief that his children should think of him as the infallible duke had been what had killed him.

  Danby took another long sip of his drink. “Perhaps if you tell Lucian the truth, that one night his father drank too much and made a foolish wager that he was the best shot in England, then Lucian would be able to allow himself to be less than perfect. He tries to save Nathaniel because it makes Lucian think he’s failed David. You realize that, yes?”

  She heaved a shuddering sigh. “I do, though it took many years for me to realize it. Perhaps I’ll tell him. Let’s see how things proceed with Lady Emmaline. I plan to stage numerous activities to throw them together.”

  “I’ll help. It’s been too long since I have had a scavenger hunt at my house. My grandchildren used to love my hunts. It’s the perfect opportunity for a gentleman to get a lady alone.”

  Adelia grinned. “You speak as if from experience.”

  Danby winked at her. “I wasn’t always this old, Adelia.”

  “Neither was I, Danby.”

  It wasn’t hard to rise before his brother since Nathaniel rarely roused himself before noon. Lucian was out of the house by ten and admitted to the Albersey drawing room by half past the hour. Before he could even decide where to sit, the door swung open and the Earl of Albersey strolled in, shirt untucked, hair disheveled, and a book in hand.

  He looked up from his book and smiled. “Mary will be down shortly.”

  Lucian blinked. Mary? He’d specifically told the butler he was here to call on Lady Emmaline. “I believe your butler may be confused, Albersey. I’m here to see if I can drive Lady Emmaline to the race today. There’ll be a picnic beforehand. You’re all welcome, of course, as my mother indicated last night.”

  Albersey chuckled. “The butler isn’t confused. You are, Your Grace, if you don’t mind my saying.”

  “I do mind it,” Lucian growled, “but I’ll allow it, of course. I’m in your home, after all. How do you draw the conclusion that I’m the one whose thoughts are muddled?”

  Albersey sunk into a chair and crossed his legs. “I’ve no doubt your thoughts are well ordered, but you’ve failed to realize you’re up against a formidable opponent.”

  What in the world was the man talking about? Lucian lowered himself into the chair opposite the earl. “I’m afraid I’ve no notion of who my opponent is, nor why we are opponents.”

  “It’s Lady Albersey, of course.” The earl opened his book and began flipping pages. Lucian cleared his throat several times until the man finally looked up. “Yes?”

  Lucian leaned his elbows on his knees. “Why is your wife my opponent?”

  “Well, don’t you mean to court Emma?”

  The man’s blunt words shocked Lucian, but they were oddly pleasing. Yet he couldn’t purposely mislead Albersey. “I hadn’t considered courting Lady Emmaline.”

  “Oh?” The man cocked up an eyebrow. “Then you are here for Mary?”

  Lucian shifted in his seat. “Well, no.”

  Albersey set down his book.

  “I’m here,” Lucian began, “as I said, to see if I can drive Lady Emmaline to the race and the picnic.”

  “But not because you want to court her?” Albersey asked, amusement lacing his tone.

  “No, because I, er, that is, my brother has an interest in Lady Emmaline, and I don’t believe they’d suit.”

  “So you’re here to save my daughter?” The words dripped humor. “I can do that.”

  “You could, but I believe I’m better equipped to thwart my brother than you are.”

  The man nodded. “And why do you think they’d not suit?”

  “They are both impetuous.”

  “Emma’s not impetuous, Your Grace. She’s simply full of life.”

  “Nathaniel hasn’t even learned to take care of himself yet. He’s certainly not ready to care for a wife.”

  “You should have started with that,” Albersey said as he stood. “We’ve been wasting time dancing around the truth. Wait here. I’ll be back momentarily. But you should understand that Lady Albersey has her mind set that you’ll be Mary’s husband, and I do believe she intends Emma for your brother. But I can impede her plan.”

  Before Lucian could reply, the man departed the room, and moments later, Lady Emmaline entered. “My father said you wanted me.”

  Truer words had never been spoken. Desire for the vision in lilac strummed through his veins. He’d never struggled a day in his life to gain control of himself, but he did so now. Lady Emmaline was doing something to him. Whether it was dangerous or extraordinary was the question.

  Chapter 8

  Though only Lucian’s leg grazed Emma’s as they sat side by side on the small seat in the phaeton, his entire body may as well have been pressed to the length of hers. She could hardly breathe or order her thoughts, yet she needed to do so. She had several questions to which she wanted answers.

  “What happened to your brother?” she asked first. “I thought he was going to drive me today.”

  “He was detained,” Lucian answered. “Are you disappointed?”

  She should say yes. Undoubtedly, it wasn’t the done thing to be so truthful about matters of the heart, yet her lips formed the word no.

  Lucian’s gaze whipped from the road to her. “Truly?”

  “Truly. Tell me about yourself, Your Grace.”

  “First of all,” he said, looking back at the road, “call me Lucian. It seems ridiculous for you to call me ‘Your Grace’ in private after last night.”

  Her cheeks heated and she pressed her gloved hands to them. “I’ve never done that before,” she admitted, fearing he thought her rather wicked.

  “I didn’t think
you had.”

  She frowned. “Why? Was I bad at kissing?”

  His gaze jerked to hers once more. “No.” His voice came out ragged, which pleased her immensely. “You were quite the opposite.”

  She struggled not to grin at his compliment. “Papa seems to be under the disillusion you wish to court me.”

  Lucian’s eyebrows rose, then lowered. “Did he say that?”

  She nodded, praying she hadn’t just embarrassed herself.

  Abruptly, Lucian pulled the carriage to the side of the road. He angled his body toward hers, and her heart started to thump. “Lady Emmaline—”

  “If I’m to call you Lucian in private, then you should call me Emma.”

  “Emma.” Her name was a low, throaty growl from his lips. “The truth is, I’m not at all sure you and I would suit.”

  “Neither am I,” she admitted, even as her heart dipped. “Yet isn’t that the point of courting? To discern the truth of the matter?”

  “I suppose it is,” he said, though he sounded reluctant to agree. “I told you last night that I want peace in my life.”

  She nodded.

  “Well—” he blew out a long breath “—I always assumed I’d need a rather boring wife to acquire the peace I desired.”

  Emma understood immediately. “And I’m not boring.”

  His gray gaze held hers and seemed to bore all the way to her soul. “You’re quite the opposite. However, I find that I’m questioning if I truly know what I need. Does that make sense?”

  “It makes complete sense,” she said honestly. “I always assumed I’d want a husband who was fun and never thought of serious matters because my mother’s lack of enthusiasm for life has strained my parents’ marriage and made my father unhappy. But I’m wondering now if that’s true. I watched them last night and this morning, and he seems perfectly happy to let her worry over all the problems while he simply reads and tinkers with different things he tries to invent. This morning, Mother sat with the steward and paid bills, and I’m ashamed to admit that I realized for the first time that none of the bills would likely get paid if it weren’t for her.”