by Julia Quinn
“Really?” Belle asked, amused. “Why?”
“Your family is going to be beleaguered as it is. If she’s got money, every fortune-hunter in England is going to be pounding on your door.”
Belle laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on trying for her.”
“Good God, no,” Dunford exclaimed with a smile, his brown eyes warming as he remembered Alex’s obsession with Emma. “Not that she isn’t exceptionally beautiful, of course.”
“She has a mind, too,” Belle said pointedly.
“Imagine that!” Dunford teased. “Really, Belle, I never doubted for one moment that she was every bit as quick-witted as you are. I just imagine that she’ll have her hands full without me.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing at all, Belle,” he said absently, scanning the ballroom for Alex. “Nothing at all. By the way, did I mention you look ravishing in blue?”
Belle smiled wryly. “How unfortunate, then, that I’m wearing green.”
Emma, meanwhile, was still trying to find her aunt when Ned caught up with her. “I don’t suppose you know where Mother is,” Ned said, picking up two glasses of lemonade from a nearby table.
“Not a clue,” Emma responded. “But thank you for the lemonade. I’m parched.”
“I imagine if we stand here long enough, she’ll find us. I think she still has about two hundred people she wants you to meet.”
Emma laughed. “No doubt.”
“I must apologize about the scene back there, Emma. I didn’t think they’d act that absurdly.”
“Didn’t mink who’d act that absurdly?” Belle suddenly appeared at Ned’s right, Dunford at her heels.
“I’m afraid I introduced Emma to George Linfield and Nigel Eversley.”
“Oh, Ned, you didn’t! Poor Emma will be beleaguered by them for months.”
“Don’t worry, Emma,” Ned said reassuringly. “They’re really good chaps once you get to know them. They just lose their heads around a beautiful woman.”
Emma laughed throatily. “Really, Ned, I mink you have just given me a compliment. That may be the first one.”
“Nonsense. If you recall, I couldn’t stop praising your right hook after you broke that pickpocket’s nose in Boston.”
Dunford decided he didn’t have to worry about Emma having any trouble with Alex. But he did start to wonder if his friend was going to be able to manage the redheaded American. He turned to Ned and said, “Blydon, I don’t believe you’ve introduced me to your cousin.”
“Oh, so sorry, Dunford. Been introducing her all night. It’s hard to keep track.”
“Emma, this is William Dunford,” Belle interjected. “He’s a great friend of mine. Dunford, I’m sure you realize that this is my cousin, Miss Emma Dunster.”
“I certainly do.” Dunford took Emma’s hand and graciously lifted it to his lips. “It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Really?” Emma asked, intrigued.
“But I hardly told you anything,” Belle protested. Dunford smiled enigmatically and was saved from further questioning by Lady Worth’s voice.
“Emma, darling,” Caroline called. “I want you to meet Lady Summerton.” The foursome turned to see Caroline heading toward them with a plump lady wearing a purple gown with a matching turban. Emma thought she looked like a pot of grape jam.
“Don’t look now,” Belle whispered, “but here comes one of those ninnyheads we warned you about, Emma.”
“I’m so happy to meet you,” gushed Lady Summerton. “You’ve made quite an entrance into society. There hasn’t been anything like it since Belle made her debut last year.” The pudgy woman took a deep breath, turned to Emma’s aunt, and continued, “And Caroline, you must be so proud. This is surely the party of the year. Why, the Duke of Ashbourne even made an appearance. I don’t think he’s been to a ball such as this in over a year. You must simply be thrilled!”
“Yes, yes,” Caroline murmured. “I heard he stopped by, but I haven’t seen him.”
“I doubt he’s left yet,” Dunford said with a wicked grin. “In fact, I’m certain he plans to stay the entire evening.”
“Planning to torture me, no doubt,” Emma muttered under her breath.
“Did you say something, my dear?” Caroline inquired.
“No, no, I was just clearing my throat,” Emma said hastily, clearing her throat.
“Would you like another glass of lemonade for that?” Dunford’s voice was solicitous, but from his expression, Emma suspected he’d heard what she said.
“No, thank you,” Emma said, holding up the glass in her hand, “I still have some left.” She smiled at Dunford and took a healthy gulp.
“Well,” Lady Summerton declared as if no one had spoken since her last monologue. “I’m sure even Ashbourne wouldn’t dare leave without greeting his hostess, Caroline. I’m positive he’ll be here soon. Absolutely positive.”
“So am I,” Dunford agreed, watching Emma with a twinkle in his eye. She smiled weakly, acutely uncomfortable.
“Of course,” Lady Summerton continued, “I’m not sure if you should allow him near your niece, Caroline.” She turned to Emma without pausing for breath. “He has a dreadful reputation. If you value yours, you’ll stay away from him.”
“I’ll certainly try,” Emma put in brightly.
“Do you know what I heard?” Lady Summerton asked breathily, to no one in particular.
“I’m sure I can’t imagine,” Ned replied.
“I heard,” Lady Summerton paused for emphasis and leaned forward conspiratorially, “that Ashbourne, er, shall we say, ‘said good-bye’ to his opera singer and has finally decided to look among respectable ladies. I think he’s looking for a wife.”
Emma choked on her lemonade.
“Are you all right, dear?” Caroline asked. “Is your headache still bothering you?”
“No, it certainly isn’t my head that’s bothering me.”
Lady Summerton plodded on. “Clarissa Trent is after him. Her mother told me. And do you know what?”
Only Caroline was attentive—and polite— enough to murmur, “What?”
“I think she has a chance of getting him.”
“I imagine she’ll be disappointed,” Dunford predicted.
“Well, she did say she was holding out for a duke,” Belle said caustically.
“I would rather not discuss her,” Ned declared.
“Emma, are you feeling well?” asked Caroline. “You look a trifle pale.”
An awkward silence fell over the small group. Finally, Lady Summerton, never one to enjoy conversational lulls, commented, “Er, I’m sure he’ll show up soon, Caroline. So stop your worrying.”
Even Caroline, impeccably mannered as she was, could not fail to murmur softly, “I wasn’t aware that I was worrying.”
“What was that, dear?” Lady Summerton inquired.
“Nothing, nothing at all.” Caroline shot Emma a knowing glance. “I was just clearing my throat.”
Emma smiled conspiratorially. “Perhaps we should get you some lemonade, dear aunt.”
“I really don’t think that will be necessary, dear niece.”
“Well, I’m sure he’ll show up soon,” Lady Summerton declared.
Emma estimated that she’d been back in the ballroom for at least fifteen minutes and decided miserably that Lady Summerton was probably right. She wondered how on earth she would be able to go through the motions of polite conversation with the man who had just nearly ravished her in her bedroom. Cowardice finally emerged as the solution and she smiled weakly. “Actually, Aunt Caroline, I am feeling a little tired. Perhaps a little fresh air would help.”
Dunford jumped in immediately, eager to provoke Alex’s jealousy by walking with Emma in the gardens. “If you would like to go to the garden, it would be my pleasure to escort you, Miss Dunster.”
“It would be very difficult for me to meet
the guest of honor if you insist upon monopolizing her time,” boomed a deep voice. It was all Emma could do to keep from cringing as everyone turned to face Alex.
“Why, your grace,” gushed Lady Summerton, “we were just talking about you.”
“Were you?” Alex answered laconically, fixing his deadly stare upon the ridiculous woman.
“Er, yes, we were,” Lady Summerton stammered.
Emma was stunned by the sheer presence of the man. His tall, broad frame somehow seemed to dominate the entire ballroom. Indeed, a hush had swept across the crowd as everyone craned their necks to watch the well-known duke. He was, Emma had to admit, definitely worth watching. He exuded raw power that seemed barely contained by his elegant black and white evening clothes. His unruly black hair had refused to conform to any sense of a hairstyle, and one lock fell characteristically over his forehead. But it was definitely his piercing green eyes that made him appear so dangerous. And just then those green eyes were fixed right on Emma. “Miss Dunster, I presume,” he said silkily, taking her hand.
“H-How do you do?” Emma managed to say. A firebolt charged through her as he lifted her hand to his mouth. And although Emma had only spent one night out in London society, she knew that his lips had remained overlong on the pale skin of her wrist.
“I do very well, indeed, now that I’ve met you.”
Lady Summerton gasped. Caroline’s eyebrows shot up in a rather shocked expression. Dunford chuckled. Ned and Belle openly stared. Emma wondered if she’d blushed to a deep crimson or merely a light rose. “You’re very kind,” she finally said.
“Well, Ashbourne, that may be the first time I’ve ever heard you referred to as kind,” Dunford said dryly.
“It’s so kind—er, gracious—of you to come tonight, your grace,” Caroline said.
“Indeed,” Belle added, not really having anything to say but feeling nonetheless that something was necessary.
“I trust your sister is well?” Caroline inquired. “We were so upset when she sent her regrets.”
“Sophie is very well, thank you. We had a bit of a scare this afternoon, but everything is all right now.”
“A scare?” Lady Summerton’s eyes grew round with interest. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Her son Charlie was almost run over by a hack. He would have been killed if a young maid hadn’t run into the street and pushed him out of the way.”
Emma could feel Belle’s eyes boring into her. She glanced upward, assiduously avoiding her cousin’s gaze.
“Thank goodness he wasn’t hurt,” Caroline said with obvious feeling. “I trust the maid is all right?”
“Oh, yes,” Alex replied with a grin. “She’s splendid.”
Emma decided that the ceiling was, indeed, highly interesting.
“Is that a waltz I hear?” Alex asked innocently. “Lady Worth, may I have your permission to dance with your niece?”
Emma cut in before Caroline could reply. “I think I’ve promised this dance to someone else.” She was certain she hadn’t promised the dance to anyone, but it was the best she could come up with under the circumstances. She looked desperately at Ned for assistance. Her cousin certainly had no desire to antagonize the powerful duke, and he quickly discovered the wonders of the ceiling that had so entranced Emma moments earlier.
Alex fixed his green stare upon her. “Nonsense,” he said simply. He turned back to Caroline. “Lady Worth?”
Caroline nodded her assent, and Alex swept Emma into his arms. When they reached the center of the dance floor, he smiled warmly down at her and said, “You are almost as beautiful in the ballroom as you are in the bedroom.”
She blushed hotly. “Why must you say such things? Are you determined to ruin my reputation on my first night out?”
Alex raised his eyebrows at her distress. “I don’t mean to boast, but I rather think that as long as I don’t drag you out of the room and ravish you in the garden, I’m only enhancing your reputation. I don’t go to these things often,” he explained. “People are going to want to know why I’m so taken with you.”
Emma had to concede his point. “Nevertheless, you don’t have to make such a show of embarrassing me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said simply. Emma glanced up sharply at his grave tone and was stunned by the stark honesty she found in his eyes.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I accept your apology.” She stared into his eyes for a few moments longer and then, uncomfortable under the intimate caress of his gaze, quickly shifted her head and focused on his cravat.
“You might want to smile at me,” Alex said. “Or, if you can’t manage that, at least look up at me. Everyone is watching us.” Emma heeded his words and lifted her face. “Much better. It’s painful, you know, having you in my arms and not being able to look into your eyes.”
Emma didn’t know what to say.
After a few moments, Alex broke the silence. “You can call me Alex, if you like.”
Emma regained a little of her spirit. “‘Your grace’ will do just fine, I’m sure.”
“But I would prefer you to use my given name.”
“I would really prefer not to.”
Alex was glad Emma had a bit of her temper back. She had seemed so forlorn when they began their waltz. “You’ll seem awfully silly ‘your graceing’ me when I’ll be calling you Emma.”
“I haven’t given you permission to use my first name,” Emma reminded him.
“Really, Emma, I hardly think permission is necessary after what we shared less than an hour ago.”
“Must you remind me of that? I would rather forget it.”
“Really? I think you’re lying to yourself.”
“You presume too much, your grace,” Emma said with quiet dignity. “You don’t know me at all.”
“I’d like to.” Alex’s grin was positively roguish. Emma marveled at how a simple smile could completely transform Alex’s face. Just moments before, he had appeared hard and uncompromising, nearly sending Lady Summerton cowering across the room with a single glare. Now, his usual cynicism absent, he was almost boyish, his eyes bathing her in a warm green glow.
Emma felt all her mental capabilities slipping away as he pulled her closer. “I think you’re deliberately trying to overwhelm me.”
“Am I succeeding?”
Emma stared up at him for several moments before she gravely answered, “Yes.”
Alex’s arms tightened around her petite body. “Christ, I can’t believe you said that to me here,” he said, his voice suddenly husky. “You’re too damned honest for your own good.”
Emma lowered her eyes, unable to understand what had moved her to confess her feelings so starkly. “You think I’m too honest?” she said softly. “Well, I’m not finished yet. We met in a most unconventional manner, which is probably why we feel able to speak to one another so bluntly. I think you’re a nice man, but a hard man, and I think you could hurt me without even intending to. I’m only in London for a few short months, and I’d like my stay with my relatives to be as happy as possible. So I am asking you please to stay away from me.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Please.”
Alex was amazed at how a single soft word from Emma’s lips could make him feel like such a cad. Nonetheless, he felt that after her soul-bearing speech, she deserved nothing less than complete honesty from him in return. “I don’t think you understand how much I want you.”
Emma immediately went still. “The waltz is over, your grace.”
“So it is.”
She extricated herself from his arms. “Good-bye, your grace.”
“Until tomorrow, Emma.”
“I don’t think so.” With that, she slipped away from him, deftly darting through the crowds until she reached her aunt.
Alex was still as he watched her move through the ballroom, her bright hair gleaming under the flickering candlelight. Her stark honesty had both unnerved him and intensified his desire f
or her. He didn’t quite understand what he felt for her, and this lack of control over his emotions left him completely irritated with himself. With a quick step, he turned decisively away from the young fops and eager mamas who seemed intent on engaging him in conversation. Thankfully, he quickly located Dunford, who was standing at the edge of the ballroom watching him. “Let’s get out of here,” he said grimly to his friend. Damn it, she’d simply have to accept that he just couldn’t leave her alone.
Chapter 7
“I am so glad you decided to let me go with you, Emma,” Belle said excitedly.
“I have a feeling I’m going to live to regret it,” Emma responded. She and her cousin were sitting in the Blydons well-sprung carriage on their way to return the earrings that Sophie had pressed into Emma’s hands the day before.
“Nonsense,” Belle said offhandedly. “Besides, you might need me. What if you don’t know what to say?”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something appropriate.”
“What if Sophie doesn’t know what to say?”
“Now, that’s unlikely.” Emma said wryly. She glanced down at the diamond and emerald earrings in her gloved hand. “Too bad,” she said with a slight grimace.
“What?”
“These are awfully nice earrings.”
The carriage came to a halt in front of Sophie’s elegant townhouse. The two young women alighted and quickly ascended the stone steps leading to the front door. Emma gave the door a decisive knock. It was opened within seconds, and Emma was treated to the sight of Sophie’s comically thin, excruciatingly imperious butler. It has often been noted that butlers are far more discerning than their employers, and Graves was certainly no exception. No one would enter the Earl and Countess of Wilding’s home until he deemed them suitable. He stared down at Emma and Belle, black eyes sharp, and said simply, “Yes?”
Belle offered the man her calling card. “Is Lady Wilding receiving?” she inquired sharply, matching the butler’s supercilious stare.
“Perhaps.”
Emma nearly laughed as she watched her cousin’s jaw clench. Belle plodded on. “Would you please tell her that Lady Arabella Blydon is here to see her?”
