The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga) (17 page)

Marissa
laughed. “It is not hard to read your interest, when you have barely taken your
eyes off her. And if looks could kill, the poor soldier dancing with her would
be dead and buried.” Leaning close to his ear, she whispered, “So tell me, are
you in love with her?”

“Marissa, you
always were impertinent and forward with your words. God help the gentleman who
captures your heart.”

“You and Myles
can rest easy, as there is not one gentleman here that interests me.” She
paused and glanced around. “Where is your brother?”

The mention of
Sebastian caused his heart to skip a beat. “He has left for America to handle
Hamilton Oil for me.”

There was no
mistaking the disappointment on Marissa’s face. Suddenly it was as though the
flame had been snuffed out of her exuberant self.

“I’m sorry, I
had no idea,” Thomas mumbled, as more guilt hit him. He truly had not known
Marissa was sweet on his brother. When had they spent time together?

“It is just a
girlhood crush. I’m sure if he were in attendance this evening I wouldn’t even
notice him.”

Her words
contradicted her expression, and Thomas found himself pitying her. Did Myles
know his sister had feelings for Sebastian? He could not, or he would have
mentioned it. And if he had mentioned it, Thomas would have been damn sure his
brother stayed in England. Now it was too late.

The waltz came
to an end, and Thomas escorted a somber Marissa back to her mother. Begging his
leave, he approached Emma. Bowing over her hand, never taking his eyes off her
sky-blue ones, he asked, “May I have the pleasure of this next dance?”

 Emma blushed,
causing his heart to pound furiously against his ribs. “Would you mind terribly
if we sat this one out? I’m parched and could use some punch.”

“Fine. May I
escort you to the refreshment table?” He held out his elbow and waited for her
to take his arm. Emma hesitated until he thought she would refuse…so it was a
shock when she placed her small gloved hand there. He nearly melted from her
touch. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Why, yes, I
am. Are you, Your Grace?” she asked shyly.

Emma, shy.
What
game was she playing with him? “Yes, I am. I would like to introduce you to
Marissa, Myles’s sister, my waltz partner. I believe you would get along splendidly.”
He recognized they were alike in many ways.

***

Emma’s heart
fluttered. So she was to meet the young lady he just danced with. She should
have recognized the resemblance between siblings. Marissa was a vision with her
pale skin, emerald eyes, and the same thick, mahogany-colored hair her brother
possessed.

The duke and
Marissa certainly appeared to enjoy their waltz, laughing and smiling at each
other. And Myles would encourage a union between the two of them. What could be
better than to have your best friend marry your sister? That was something Emma
did not want to think about.

Yet, try as she
might, her mind had other ideas.

“I would like
to make her acquaintance. If she is anything like her brother, we’ll get along
splendidly.” She smiled at Wentworth, praying he did not notice the envy she
felt for Marissa.

The twinkle in
his eye and the grin tugging at his lips told her he had noticed, and when he
leaned in and whispered in her ear she knew for certain.

“Do I detect a
little jealousy? I thought you loathed the sight of me and couldn’t wait until
I was out of your life.”

Closing her
eyes, Emma swallowed the lump in her throat, hoping to steady her voice. She
would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her unsettled.

“Jealousy is
not something I feel.” Fluttering her lashes, she forced her lips into a wide
smile. “Marissa is a lovely young lady. I believe she would make you a perfect
wife.” She lowered her voice. “That is, if you can win her heart…”

Oh, dear Lord,
did she just challenge him? She hoped not, because that was not her intent.

“Do not fret,
my dear Emma. If I wanted Marissa, or any other young lady present this
evening, all I have to do is snap my fingers. They would be all too
accommodating for the chance to become the wife of a duke.” He bowed. “If you
will excuse me, I believe I see Lady Caroline Henley, and I promised her a
dance.”

Emma stood
frozen to the spot, her jaw open. The nerve of Thomas, brushing her off like
that. She would show him he meant nothing to her. She glided across the room,
glancing around, hoping he watched. Her pulse raced when she saw he did. When
she came to a stop, she stood facing the major, and, ignoring propriety, she
said, “Why, Major Fontaine, I do believe you promised me this dance.”

Watching his
eyes sparkle, Emma congratulated herself for accomplishing what she’d hoped and
planned. Fortunately, the dance was a country reel and she would not have to
flirt her way through the dance. They would change partners often.

The music began
as the gentlemen came forward and bowed. The ladies curtsied at the same time.
Ignoring Wentworth who took his position beside the major, she smiled the most
coquettish smile she had––for the major’s eyes only. Emma took prided in
herself and she wondered if she should consider a career in the theater. She
had no idea she was so accomplished in the art of dissembling.

Wentworth paid
her no heed, which was good because she needed to focus on keeping up with the
steps of the reel and the switching of partners when necessary. Because of the
complicated steps of the dance, she was able to ignore the duke on one level––until
she found herself partnered with him.

“Do you think I
care if you flirt like a lightskirt with the major?” he demanded in an
undertone.

Gasping, Emma
glared at him. How dare he compare her to a lightskirt? “At least I am not
leading some poor, silly girl on, making her believe you have feelings for
her.” She tried to turn away, but he held onto her and they danced.

“If you don’t
behave yourself,” he warned, “all the gossips will be wagging their tongues
about you and your shameless flirting with Fontaine.”

“Oh.” There was
no time for a retort, as she found herself back with the man in question.
“Hello, Major.”

“Miss Hamilton,
when this dance is over would you care to stroll in the gardens? I hear they
are lovely in the evening, all lit up with torches.”

“Why, Major, I
would love to.” Emma smiled and clapped when the reel ended. She allowed the
major to lead her through the French doors and into the garden. There were not
many people around, and the gardens were not at all well lit. Wentworth’s
warning not to find herself alone with Major Fontaine prickled awareness up her
spine.

“The gardens
are lovely, but if you don’t mind, I prefer to sit on this garden bench and
rest my feet a spell.”

The
disappointment on his face was evident to her. Emma ignored it and sank down
onto the bench, adjusting her skirts, taking up the whole seat so the major
could not sit next to her.

Fontaine
stepped in front of her then and reached for her hand. “Miss Hamilton, may I
call you Emma?”

She lowered her
head. “Yes, but only in private.”

His face broke
into a wide smile. “Thank you, Emma.” His eyes studied her, devouring her
breasts. No doubt with him towering over her as he did, he had a complete view
down her dress. Her spine stiffened.

“As you must
realize by now,” he said, “I am enamored of you.” Raising her gloved hand to
his lips, he confidently turned her hand and brushed her glove aside to expose
her wrist. He touched his wet lips to her pulse point, and Emma’s body shivered
with revulsion.

Unfortunately,
he read her response incorrectly, because he grinned. No––he actually leered at
her.

“Why, Emma, you
are positively vibrating.” He leaned down close to her ear. “Do you want me as
much as I want you?”

It took Emma
less than a moment to realize flirting with the major had been a bad idea if
the lust shining from his eyes was any indication.

“Major, I do
not think it appropriate for you to speak about wanting me.” Frowning, she continued,
“We hardly know one another. And I would never consent to do something even
remotely scandalous, with any man.”

Before Emma
knew it, he’d pulled her up, roughly, and his hands dug into her forearms. Now
his voice was steeped with menace and his eyes glared malice.

“I’m sick and
tired of you stupid, rich bitches thinking you can flirt shamelessly and thrust
your enticing bosoms in my face without consequences.” His mouth took hers in a
punishing kiss, crushing and bruising her lips. Try as she might, her strength
was no match for his and she could not break free. Could not breathe…

Without warning
she was released. While fighting to retain her balance, she saw Wentworth, his
eyes full of venom. He had the major by his coat lapels. His words dug, deep as
daggers, into her heart.

 “If you ever
touch her again, I will kill you. I should call you out…” He shoved Fontaine
away and turned to her, grabbing her hands with his.

“Are you hurt?
Did he hurt you?” His voice was breathless as his eyes traveled up and down her
body, assessing any damage.

So relieved
he’d come to her rescue, Emma wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her
head against his rapidly thumping heart. And she held on as if he were the only
thing keeping her alive.

“Thank you,”
she murmured, breathing in his masculine scent. She could not help it; her
shoulders shook as she sobbed into his chest. “He . . . he is a hateful man.”

The warmth of
Wentworth’s large hands was comforting as they made soothing circles on her
back. Hearing him murmur sweet words into her ear caused her tears to dry and
her trembling body to quiet. Warmth spread through her as she burrowed closer
into his body. In the now-peaceful garden, she marveled at how safe she felt
within the confines of his powerful arms. If only she could stay like this
forever.

“Emma, look at
me.”

Sucking in air,
she raised her face to look at him. Her heart stopped at the unmistakable
compassion on his face and in his incredible blue eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he
began. “I tried to get here faster. Please forgive me for not keeping you
safe.”

“Thomas…” She
moistened her lips with her tongue. “I—

Without warning,
he lowered his head and captured her mouth with his. A gentle, loving kiss that
had her knees weakening and her pulse soaring. When his hand moved up and down
her sides, his thumbs stroking the outer sides of her breasts, Emma moaned into
his mouth. So lost was she with his kisses and his hands on her body she never
heard the voices coming their way––until it was too late.

“Why, I never,”
Lady Shrewsbury exclaimed. “I always knew American ladies to be loose with
their favors.”

“Yes, indeed,”
Mrs. Winchester agreed in a condescending voice.

Emma pulled
away and cast her eyes downward to escape their hurtful words. Wentworth, on
the other hand, wrapped one hand around her waist, forcing her to face the two
gossipy ladies straight on.

“I beg your
pardon, Lady Shrewsbury, Mrs. Winchester.” Thomas nodded his head. “Miss
Hamilton and I were celebrating.” He flashed Emma a devious smile before turning
back to the ladies. “Miss Hamilton has just agreed to become my duchess.”

The blood
roared so loudly in her ears after his announcement that Emma did not hear a
word the two aged ladies said. All she could hear inside her pounding brain
were the words he’d voiced.
Miss Hamilton has agreed to become my duchess.

“Emma dear, are
you all right? You look a little pale.” Thomas’s voice penetrated the pounding
in her head.

“I don’t feel
very well. Could we possibly leave?”

***

She did not
feel very well
? He’d just proposed to save her reputation. Of course he
wanted to marry her, eventually, and he knew exactly what he was doing when he
kissed her. He wanted her, and he could think of no other way to have her but
to tarnish her reputation in front of the two most virulent wagging tongues in
all of England…

Though Thomas
composed himself outwardly, inside he smiled. Emma’s unfortunate encounter with
the major had been the perfect setup for him to jump in and save her.

Of course,
Thomas would have done that anyway. However, he knew the ladies were in the
gardens and were bound to exit at some point. He would have kissed Emma for
hours, if need be, to accomplished his plan. And now he would ignore the guilt
riding him. She would marry him; that was all that mattered.

By the time
Emma was composed enough for Thomas to escort her back into the ballroom, every
eye fell on them. He saw Emma’s body tense up. “Don’t let them get to you, my
dear. We are betrothed; there’s nothing they would dare whisper about you behind
your back now that I am protecting you. Smile and look happy, will you?”

***

Smile and
look happy.
What world did he live in? Emma lived in a cruel one where
people loved a good scandal. And one involving an American and a duke was all
the better for entertaining scandal. But she plastered on a smile and
acknowledged all the well wishes from strangers and friends alike. Nothing
seemed real; it was as though she watched herself from afar, not actually from
inside her own body.

Amelia
enveloped her in her arms and murmured into her ear, “I am jealous; I wish
Captain Rycroft had done what my brother did. Then I would be engaged as well.
Now we will be sisters for real.”

Next, Bella
hugged her. “Congratulations. My brother could not have picked a better wife.
Welcome, sister.”

As much as she
fought it, tears streamed down her cheeks and she brushed them away with her
gloved fingers. Emma lowered her voice because what she had to say was for her
new sisters’ ears only. “You are not shocked by the gossip?” Her stomach
revolted. “Your mother—what will she say? She will be shocked and angered by
the scandal.”