“How did Father find you?”
Emmaline sat up and faced Amelia. “He came looking for me after our argument this morning, wanting to get in the last word.”
Amelia only nodded, understanding that well enough having been on the receiving end of many of his lectures.
“But I’d fled to the park, desperate to get to my—to Granville.”
The corner of Amelia’s mouth lifted. “Your Granville, eh?”
The tips of Emmaline’s ears burned at her sister’s teasing. Her Granville…her knight…her duke. One and the same. But she didn’t give Amelia the satisfaction of a reaction.
“Well, Father found Molly instead. It didn’t take him long to get the story out of her.” Guilt flashed through Emmaline as she thought of how scared the poor maid must have been. And for what had happened to her.
“He’s sacked her for not properly chaperoning me—without references. I’ll ask Granville to find her straightaway, and take her into Albemarle House.”
Amelia’s smile had vanished, her lips thinning into a line. “Don’t worry about Molly. I’ll see she’s taken care of.”
“But how—?”
“Never you mind,” Amelia said. “Go on with your story.”
Emmaline frowned. Ever since her engagement, Amelia had changed. Become more tight-lipped, more mysterious. And from the stubborn tilt of her chin, Emmaline knew she’d get nothing more out of her sister on that score.
“She told Father I’d been meeting with a man in Hyde Park,” she continued, “and he rushed there to fetch me posthaste. I think he intended to cover up any impropriety so that I’d still be eligible to marry his duke.”
No, not his duke.
Your duke, Granville had called himself.
My duke, she repeated to herself.
“When he didn’t find us near the Serpentine, he nearly left,” she said. “But then he saw Duke chasing something near the copse of trees where we’d gone, and followed the pup into the forest.”
“Unlucky, that,” Amelia said.
“Mmm.” But was it? Emmaline wasn’t so sure. Horrific as being caught in a compromising position had been, there was a sort of peace having it all out of her hands now. No more fighting it. No more unknowns.
And as for her future husband?
She would choose him over any man she’d known.
While she couldn’t say how he felt about marrying her, Emmaline no longer dreaded her future. Indeed, she looked forward to discovering more about the man she already knew so well, and yet didn’t know at all.
And she certainly looked forward to more of his kisses.
She lay her head back on Amelia’s shoulder. Her sister deserved the same—to look forward to her marriage, not to fear it.
Granville had intimated that were he her duke, he would support Amelia, should she wish to change her mind. Had he meant that? If so, Emmaline should probably prepare Amelia for the possibility—which meant she would have to be honest about what she’d told Granville today.
She only hoped her sister didn’t get too upset with her.
“Amelia?”
“Yes?”
But just then, the door opened.
Both ladies rose to their feet as the men stepped through the threshold. Well, Amelia rose. Emmaline practically surged.
Upon noticing Amelia, their father made hasty introductions.
Emmaline had eyes only for Granville. His face was still stony, giving away nothing of what he was thinking. Flutters set off in her stomach anew. Was he displeased, finding himself shackled to her before he’d even seen the other young ladies the ton had to offer?
When Amelia and Granville had exchanged polite greetings, Father shooed her sister out of room before turning to Emmaline.
“You may have a few moments with your intended,” he said. “Leave the door open.”
Her cheeks warmed at his directive, but then she was alone with her knight for the first time as themselves, and she was warm for an entirely different reason.
Everything had changed between them.
Yet it felt as if nothing had.
What should she say to him?
She decided on the first thing on her heart. “I had no idea who you were.”
A ginger brow winged high on his forehead.
“What I mean to say is that I didn’t set out to trap you. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” he said. “I wondered, when your father discovered us so shortly after you lured me into your arms…”
His slow half-smile told her he teased and when his gaze dropped to her mouth, she knew that he, too, was remembering those fevered kisses—the sensuous slide of lips and tongue, the pleasure.
She unconsciously wet her lips with her tongue and he snapped his gaze back to hers.
He cleared his throat once…twice. “But it didn’t take me long to realize that you would never do such a thing, even if he would have wished you to.”
Emmaline released a tight breath. “I’m glad.”
“I had no idea who you were, either,” he offered. “I’d worked out you were nobility from the first, but I never guessed I spent my mornings with the daughter of the man who’d usurped my afternoons.”
“Better yours than mine,” she muttered, and Granville huffed a laugh.
“I had been warned Montgomery had a daughter he wished to see me wed to. I refused his every offer of a quiet family dinner, or trip to the theater, or any other number of sly invitations designed to introduce us. I’d resolved to stay well clear of her.”
Emmaline’s lips lifted at the irony of it all. “Well, that plan didn’t work out too well for you.”
His voice dropped low. “Oh, but I think it did.”
And just like that, all the heat that had flared between them in the forest this morning came rushing back in an inferno. Curse that open door. She wanted to fling herself into his arms and pick up where they’d left off. Discover what came next…
“I—I suppose we should introduce ourselves,” she said instead, realizing she’d yet to learn his given name. “I’m Emmaline.”
Another smile. “Yes, I know. I’ve read it many times this afternoon in the marriage contracts.”
“Oh. Of course.”
“And before you ask,” he went on, “your father conceded to allow your sister to break her engagement, should she wish.”
Emmaline’s brows shot up. “Just like that?”
He grimaced. “Not exactly. But I am a barrister by trade, and thus accustomed to a good fight. You’d given me plenty of leverage, knowing how desperately he wished for a ducal alliance, and the lengths he’d go it get it. And I had little empathy for him, given how he’s treated you and your sister. It made it easy to stand firm. Once he accepted that I wouldn’t budge in Amelia’s case, he caved.”
Something melted inside of Emmaline. This man would always be a knight, be he a duke or a barrister or a candlestick maker. Her heart would be safe with him.
And so would her sister’s future. Emmaline’s guilt and worry started to melt away, too, leaving room for…hope. Hope for their future happiness.
“Thank you,” she said around the lump in her throat. “You didn’t have to do that, I know.”
“Of course, I did, dearest Emmaline.” His voice rang with tenderness and even more heat unfurled in her tummy. “I promised I would, were I your duke.”
“And now you are,” she whispered.
“And now I am,” he agreed.
He pinned her with a hot look, one that made her feel alive and desired and so very fortunate that she’d chosen Hyde Park as her refuge that fateful morning. And that he had, too.
But then his gaze clouded over, and his features slid into marble once again. “Almost.”
She frowned, not liking the sound of that.
He straightened his shoulders and took a long breath. “I must tell you, should the duchess bear a son and I do not become the duke, I won’t hold you to this engagement. I
will allow you to cry off to find a more suitable match…if that is your wish.”
Emmaline simply stared at him. He would give her a choice?
“Nor will I withdraw my support of your sister, regardless of whether we marry,” he said. “Without the ducal income, I couldn’t keep her in the manner in which she is accustomed, but she will always have a home and means of her own, I swear it.”
His features softened ever so slightly, and his voice followed suit. “I know how important her future is to your happiness. Just as your happiness is to mine.”
Tears pricked Emmaline’s eyes, and as her vision blurred, she would have sworn that for a moment there, her knight’s plain wool suit actually shone like armor.
He was who she wanted. She would never wish to break from him. A tiny seed of love had already taken root in her heart and she knew, with all that she was, that it would bloom into the lushest of gardens as time passed—one that would sustain them for the rest of their lives.
“It is not the duke I wish to marry,” she said softly, “but my knight. Nothing will change that.”
A tender smile graced his lips. “And it is not a perfect duchess I want, only my fierce warrior queen. Nothing,” he reached out and lifted her left hand, caressing her ruined finger with his thumb, “will ever change that, my dear, dear Emmaline.”
And Emmaline saw the truth in his eyes. He did want her—just her. Not how she looked, but who she was. Her heart swelled in her chest, so much that she thought she might burst with happiness.
“My knight,” she whispered. “My duke. My—”
Her sweet declaration stalled when she realized, “I still don’t know your name.”
“Max,” he said, his smile turning decidedly wicked. He brought her hand to his lips for a kiss, as if they’d just met in a ballroom somewhere—though it lingered much longer than would be proper. She was quite certain the tongue that darted out to taste her skin would be frowned upon as well. By some. Not her.
Emmaline’s heart sped at his touch. Soon, very soon, he’d be able to touch her anytime, anywhere. And she, him.
“Max,” she repeated, then she gave a wicked smile of her own. “I like that better than Haddie.”
He laughed then, a rich, booming sound that brought Duke into the library to investigate. The dog headed straightaway for Emmaline—to protect his mistress, no doubt—before making a double-hop of surprise when he realized that his park friend now stood in his house. The pup’s tail wagged happily as he looked between the two of them.
Emmaline scooped the little dog into her arms and hugged her to him. “Without you, my sweet Duke, I might never have found my happily ever after.”
Max reached over and ruffled Duke’s ears. “I’m only glad you’ve found room for more than one Duke in your life.”
Her eyes met his over the pup’s fluffy head and she smiled, so very content.
“And in my heart, as well.”
From Heather
I hope you enjoyed Emmaline, Max and Duke as much as I did. It was such a challenge keeping their story contained to this short novelette! I so wanted to delve deeper into their characters and go on and on and on.
I shall leave it up to you whether the Duchess of Albemarle delivered a son or a daughter, and whether Max and Emmaline became Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess of Albemarle or Mr. and Mrs. Granville.
However, don’t be surprised if you see them again, as I’m kicking around a story for Lady Amelia, tentatively titled Must Love Scoundrels. Then you can find out if your guess was correct!
* * *
In the meantime, should you like to read more of my books, you can find them here:
Novelettes:
Must Love Duke
* * *
Novellas:
Loving Lady Dervish
The Very Debonair Lady Claire
* * *
Full Length Novels:
Sweet Enemy
Sweet Deception
Sweet Madness
* * *
Or save by buying the full-length novels in this collection…over 950 pages, one low price!
* * *
The Veiled Seduction Collection
* * *
Sweet Enemy: Beakers and ball gowns don't mix, so when lady chemist, Miss Liliana Claremont, goes undercover as a husband-hunter to investigate Lord Geoffrey Wentworth, the earl whose family she suspects murdered her father, romance isn't part of the formula. But it only takes on kiss to start a reaction she can't control...
* * *
Sweet Deception: Lady criminologist, Miss Emma Wallingford, gets tangled up in the final mission of Lord Derick Aveline, the spy she once loved. Though she suspects he’s only back in her life until the killer is found, Emma is determined to convince Derick to stay this time. Will their re-found love prove true? Or is it all just a Sweet Deception?
* * *
Sweet Madness: In the final book of this acclaimed historical romance series, Lady Penelope Bridgeman must face her past and her own demons in a fight to save a traumatized soldier, Lord Gabriel Devereaux, from a descent into madness. She never expects that he might be the one to save her, too...
If you’d like to know when I have a new book out, you can:
* * *
Sign up for my e-mail newsletter list at www.HeatherSnowBooks.com
Follow me on Twitter at @HeatherSnowRW
Friend my Facebook page here.
About the Author
Heather Snow is an award winning historical romance author with a degree in Chemistry who discovered she much preferred creating chemistry on the page, rather than in the lab.
* * *
Her books have been published in seven languages around the world, and have won numerous awards including: The Golden Quill, the National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award, The Write Touch Readers Award and the Book Buyers Best Top Pick.
* * *
She lives in the Midwest with her husband, two rambunctious boys, three insanely huge dogs and a pair of very put upon cats.
THE MISTLETOE DUKE
December
Sabrina York
Preface
Widowed Jonathan Pembroke, the esteemed Duke of Devon, has been dodging marital bliss for far too long. At least, according to his mother. It’s time for her son to marry again and settle down, preferably with a woman who can manage his hellion daughters. So she plans a Christmas party, replete with mistletoe, to vet the eligible partis. She enlists her companion—and Jonathan’s childhood friend—to help in this quest. Which is awkward. Because down-on-her-luck and decidedly un-duchess like Meg Chalmers might want to capture the duke under the mistletoe herself.
* * *
Editor: Fedora Chen
For Meg
Chapter 1
December 1813
En route from Devon to Sutton
Nothing was more unpleasant than a long coach ride, unless it was in the midst of winter. Fortunately Meg was in the dowager’s coach and there was a brazier by her feet. She pulled her cloak closer and closed her eyes, trying to sleep.
Or, if truth be told, trying not to be flustered.
There was no need to be flustered. In point of fact, it was the height of foolishness to even imagine there was anything to be flustered about.
She was going to see Jonathan again.
That was all.
They were friends. They’d grown up together in the wilds of Devon. They’d known each other their whole lives, though she’d only seen him in bits and spots since he married Tessa.
Not that she’d been avoiding him.
Once he married her best friend and all.
It wasn’t that Meg had been jealous that Tessa had landed the son of a duke. She’d been happy for them. After all, she loved them both.
She’d just loved one of them more than she should have.
When Tessa had died giving birth to their third child—who also passed—Meg had been brokenhearted. Everyone had been.
>
Jonathan had taken it hard, blaming himself for some godforsaken reason. He’d sent his daughters to live with his mother in Devon and sequestered himself in his London house, making only intermittent visits home.
This was the first time Meg would see him in two years.
Of course, her life had changed immeasurably since Tessa’s death as well. And not in a good way.
“Are you listening to me?” the dowager’s sharp tone captured Meg’s attention. Anne Pembroke, the Dowager Duchess of Pembroke, was rarely sharp. Fortunately, her question was not directed at Meg, but at Mawbry, her long-suffering secretary, who sat at Meg’s side.
“Yes, Your Grace. Of course, Your Grace.”
He hadn’t been listening—clearly he’d been snoozing—but he made a good show of attentiveness.
“I said, take out your pen and inkpot. We need to make plans.”
“Plans, Your Grace?” Mawbry had the unfortunate habit of repeating everything the dowager said, which was annoying, even to Meg.
“Yes. We are going to throw a house party.
Dukes by the Dozen Page 66
