Lady Peregrine tightened her grip on his arm and he turned back to her with a strained smile. He did not understand why the Peregrines were here. From his last conversation with the lady, she was anything but pleased with this match. Why would she choose to come for this visit?
Perhaps she simply loves her sister that much.
Lady Edric led them to the drawing room, where tea was laid out. The gentlemen seated the ladies and then themselves while the butler directed his staff in the serving of tea.
Emmanuel found himself seated opposite Isabella which gave him the perfect excuse to stare fixedly at her. She returned his look, eyes fluttering, a smile trying to break out on her lips. His eyes dropped to her mouth and stayed there, mind straying back to when his own was pressed to hers, his tongue questing. She squirmed and he raised his eyes to find her blushing fiercely.
He smiled knowingly and she returned the look. He could not wait to get her on her own.
* * *
The Duke sat at the head of the table, engaging Lady Gefferton in a lengthy discussion about Renaissance Art. Lord Peregrine sat at her right hand. He and Emmanuel were close acquaintances and his presence went a long way to assuaging the Duke’s uneasiness about the presence of his wife.
Isabella sat between Lord Peregrine and the Viscount’s steward, Mr. George Chandler. The man continued to niggle at Emmanuel, like the ghost of a memory he could not quite grasp. Mr. Chandler was apparently here at the behest of Lord Gefferton, but his purpose in the festivities remained unexplained.
Lady Edric was on the other side of the steward, carrying on a polite conversation with him on the sights of London. Across the table sat Lady Peregrine, resplendent in gold and crimson satin, and Lord Gefferton, talking loudly of decadence and fripperies.
* * *
Isabella cut into the poivré filet de chevreuil with a silver knife, then drained her glass of sherry. She knew that she ought to be talking to her brother-in-law, but she had yet to forgive Sarah for her transgressions and Lord Peregrine was guilty by association.
Besides that, she was too busy staring at Emmanuel from the corner of her eye, wondering how he could focus on that conversation with her mother when she was sitting right here.
Though she held no love for the Medici herself, she understood her mother’s fascination with their collection of jewel-like paintings. Her mother loved jewels.
She was about to ask the Earl about his recent purchase of Prussian horses when the Duke brought his discourse with the Lady Gefferton to an end and turned to her.
Apparently, this was a signal that everyone should converse with the person on their other hand, for Lady Peregrine turned to talk to Lady Gefferton and Lady Edric to her husband, Lord Edric. That might be a faux pas but seeing as there were only a few people present, it could be overlooked.
The servant filled her glass again, and as she raised it to her lips she felt Emmanuel’s gaze upon her. He wore a fitted dark coat of superfine above a startlingly white cravat, with a single sapphire pin that sparkled like his eyes.
Isabella sighed with pleasure. He looked quite becoming in the candlelight, and she was not ashamed to admire him openly.
His eyes were dark with lust, quite unmistakable. She felt as if she could taste his interest even from across the table. Her hands were shaking. She realized she’d tipped a little wine down her bodice.
“Please allow me,” said Mr. Chandler, passing her a napkin. She turned and thanked him.
* * *
She was so much more beautiful than remembrance had painted, and yet his memory was excellent. Emmanuel watched intently as she blushed, patting the napkin to her cleavage. Her gown had a low slung neckline, giving him a quite unimpeded view of her soft looking, lush bosom. He surreptitiously licked the venison juices from his lips.
Isabella.
His answers to Lady Peregrine’s entirely predictable observations were absentminded and trite. His attention was completely taken with watching Isabella make awkward conversation with Mr. Chandler.
There was something about the steward’s eyes that distracted Emmanuel from his fixation for a second. He remembered the fragment of a dream where grey eyes followed him, relentless and evil…
He shook his head discreetly and looked away from them. Clearly, he needed to curb his intake of wine if it was fueling these flights of fancy. He expected he was fixating so on the steward to avoid his irritable thoughts on Isabella’s father and sister.
Yes, that must be it.
He nodded firmly to himself and returned his attention to the succulent steak on his plate. His mind must have wandered sufficiently to alert Lady Peregrine to his inattention.
“I do declare, Your Grace, that you have not listened to a word I said in the last five minutes. I asked you whether you conceded that this necklace is better set with opals than with diamonds.”
“I fear you have the right of it, Madame. But there are no jewels that could improve your appearance.”
She looked offended. “Your Grace, I have no idea what you might be implying.”
“You may look into any looking glass and observe it for yourself. No words of mine suffice.”
* * *
Dessert was lemon cream served with Madeira. Isabella could feel Emmanuel’s distraction as he tried to engage with her sister yet could not stop his eyes from straying to her. She felt that azure gaze on her like a hot brand, despite his best efforts to pay attention to Lady Peregrine. Thankfully, with time and sherry, etiquette was put aside in favor of general conversation.
“How long do you believe we will stay here, Miss Addison?” Mr. Chandler’s paused in his tales of house parties he’d accompanied the Viscount on in the past that had been better than this one, to ask.
“I do believe we will be here for a week, but you’d best ask Father, for he would know better than I,” Isabella stretched her lips in an attempt at smiling. Being polite to Mr. Chandler was really quite tedious and she did not like having to do it. “We are most grateful for the invitation, so it would behoove you to keep your opinions to yourself.”
On the other side of her, Sarah touched a hand to her hair and fluttered her eyelashes at the Duke as she answered his throwaway remark. “One should never underestimate the virtue of dressing to perfection, Your Grace.”
“Indeed,” remarked Lady Gefferton, looking straight at Isabella, who blushed.
“So unfortunate,” continued Lady Peregrine, “that Isabella did not learn that sooner. Why, she could have been married long ago!”
“Oh, she has some time, tis not too late,” protested Lady Edric. “Our family is indeed very grateful that she chose to wait. It has given Lady Gefferton and me a chance to reacquaint ourselves, and our families a chance to meet and bond. I consider it the very best of luck, don’t you, my dear Lady Gefferton?”
Isabella stayed quiet but caught her mother’s eye. They exchanged smiles before her mother turned to Lady Edric to agree enthusiastically.
* * *
The ladies retired to the music room for some coffee, and Lord Gefferton looked around him as he sipped port.
“Well, if this evening’s talk is anything to go by, my daughter has made an impression on the company,” he simpered. “I can see that you are still highly taken with her, Your Grace.”
His Grace bristled angrily. “It is no secret that I consider your daughter to be more than just a pair of fine eyes, Gefferton. How many girls have heard of the Critique of Pure Reason, let alone have read it?”
“Let us hope that she is still pure in other ways as well, for you have not declared your intentions, Your Grace, yet you steal away with her every chance you get,” retorted Lord Gefferton. “It would be such a shame if such fine eyes were doomed to dwindle on a shelf.”
“You’re mixing your metaphors, Gefferton,” the Duke lazily swirled the port in his glass. “I do wish you would take care for your language, imperfect though it is.”
Lord Gefferton, studying th
e Duke’s studious maintenance of his air of nonchalance, felt a moment’s jealousy. Helmsfield was just a boy after all, a puppy. But the way he assumed that his will would prevail in this and possibly everything—despite being a cripple—set all of Gefferton’s teeth on edge.
Lord Peregrine hastened to fill the tense silence that permeated the room as thickly as the cigar smoke. “What say you, we rejoin the ladies in the music room?” He got to his feet expectantly and the rest reluctantly followed suit.
* * *
Lady Peregrine was already at the pianoforte as they entered, while Lady Gefferton and Lady Edric sat huddled on the couch, deep in conversation. Isabella sat by herself in an armchair, a book in hand, seemingly engrossed.
She looked up as they entered and found Emmanuel at once, a half smile on her face. He walked straight over to her and bent over as she extended her hand. Kissing the back of it reverently, he then returned her hand to her with a smile. His eyes fell on the book.
“What are you reading?”
Isabella picked up the book and put it aside. “Nothing, really. Just passing the time.”
Emmanuel smiled. “Until I got here?”
Isabella merely lowered her lashes and colored beautifully. Emmanuel extended a hand to her while behind him, his uncle suggested they play a game of whist and Lady Peregrine belted out a new song on the pianoforte.
“Then will you take a walk with me?”
Chapter 19
Courting
They stepped out onto the veranda, where they were in full view of everyone in the music room but could converse alone. Isabella turned to Emmanuel.
“It is a pleasure to see you again. I had missed you.”
Emmanuel smiled. “I had missed you, as well. Welcome to my home. You must look around and tell me if you like it…if you would feel at home here.”
Isabella smiled, looking away from him. “Oh, don’t you think you get ahead of yourself a little?”
“I have never hidden my purpose for inviting you here.”
“Indeed, you have not. But until all is formalized between us, let us not act like it is.”
Emmanuel smiled. “By that you mean…? The kissing, perhaps?”
Isabella’s cheeks flamed. “I…I simply meant that language that assumes you have proposed and I have consented should be avoided.”
Emmanuel leaned closer, his breath lightly brushing her ear. “So you’re saying we can still kiss.”
Isabella’s eyes quickly darted toward the music room and then widened at him in warning. He straightened up, still smiling. “I shall take that as a yes.”
Isabella snorted. “Silence is certainly not consent.”
“Oh, indeed? What is it then? Confusion? Hesitation? Shyness? Tell me, my sweet Isabella.”
Isabella slammed both hands over her face, hiding from him. Emmanuel barked a laugh. “Don’t hide from me, please. I do so enjoy seeing the flaming of your rosy cheeks and the way your eyes widen with shock and embarrassment. Perhaps also…desire?” His voice softened, “Tell me, Isabella, do you desire me?”
“You’re very forward now that we are in your territory, are you not?”
“I do admit, my home makes me comfortable. Am I making you uncomfortable?”
Isabella shook her head so vigorously that a few tendrils of hair came loose from her coiffure.
“Good. I should not like you to be uncomfortable here…for it is to be your home.”
Isabella swallowed, turning away from him to look out into the night. There was not much to see as it was a moonless night and all that was visible was the shadowy shape of trees swaying in the slight breeze. She could hear the occasional hoot of an owl somewhere close by.
“I should like to see your estate, during the day.”
“Tomorrow we shall definitely take a walk after breakfast. I thought that we might picnic down by the lake before you ladies withdraw to prepare for the dinner party tomorrow evening. I do hope you don’t mind a rather large—I suspect—influx of strangers in what was to be our time to spend together.”
Isabella shrugged. “I expected it. I have been to a house party or two.”
Emmanuel lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed? I have not. Avoid the blasted things like the plague. But for you, I shall endure this one.”
Isabella laughed. “How so very chivalrous of you.”
Emmanuel made her a mock elegant leg and then straightened up with a grin. “I aim to please.”
The game of whist behind them was getting rather loud and Isabella turned to glance at them only to find that Mr. Chandler was sitting off to the side, his eyes on them and filled with malice. She felt something cold slither down her spine and moved closer to Emmanuel.
“What is the matter?” he asked, his hand resting very lightly against her waist.
She shook her head, “It’s nothing. I…would it be terribly rude of me to head to my chambers now? It has been a long day and I wish to retire.”
“Of course, Isabella. I shall send for a lady’s maid to escort you.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” She smiled into his eyes.
“You’re very welcome, Miss Addison.” He smiled back.
* * *
Isabella had the strangest dream. She was sitting in a music room not unlike the one they had all been in that very night, but instead of her family, she was surrounded by the strangest array of women!
All of them were quite beautiful, the very Pinkest of the pink. Their eyes were knowing and they whispered behind their hands, giggling amongst themselves and laughing at Isabella.
She really did not know what to make of it, especially as she did not recognize a single one of them. In the dream, Emmanuel walked into the room, a smirk on his face, glint in his eye—he looked around at the girls, nodding his acknowledgement of each, and calling them by name.
When he called their names, they came to him, planting kisses on his lips, staining his face with the red of their lip paint. He seemed pleased by the attention, holding onto all of them in the most intimate manner.
Isabella shivered, not knowing what to do or how to proceed. He did not seem to have seen her, nor did he acknowledge her in any way. She got slowly to her feet and walked tentatively closer. He was still occupied with his harem and paid her no mind.
“Emmanuel?” she called, her voice barely loud enough for her to hear.
He froze, looking up to see her, and then his eyes widened. “Oh, you’re here.” He sounded most disappointed. Then he looked back at the wench in his arms. “Would you leave me alone please, Your Grace, I have visitors to entertain.”
Isabella stood still, trying to digest this new information. He had called her ‘Your Grace’ as if she were his duchess, perhaps? Or had she married some other duke? Perhaps he was not speaking to her. Why would he say such things to her anyway?
He looked up again, eyes definitely on her, looking irritated. “Really, Isabella. I would appreciate it if you left this instant. Have I not given you enough books to bury yourself in? Do you not have enough children? I need some excitement in my life. Do leave and let me have it.”
There was no doubt that he was speaking to her, that time.
“Very well.” She walked backward out of the room, watching the women crowd him, giggling, laughing at her. She fled into the darkness, heart pounding.
It was then that she woke up, sitting up in bed, a hand on her chest, trying to slow her heart beat.
“Oh dear God, that was awful,” she murmured in the dark.
* * *
“Do you ride, Your Grace?”
Emmanuel looked up, surprised at her words. Isabella stood by her chair, regarding him with a warm amber gaze.
Emmanuel considered his answer. Lord Gefferton was engaged with his steward, Chandler, this morning, and Lady Peregrine was, quite unusually, in silent repose in the library. Emmanuel’s options for company included Lady Gefferton and his aunt, both of whom were amiable enough, but more concerned with catching up o
n twenty years of their own lives. Lord Peregrine might provide company but they had several days of the visit to go and he did not want to exhaust the fertile ground of conversation. That left his uncle who was exerting himself to be pleasant to Lord Peregrine.
Emmanuel had found himself lacking the patience for engaging in further idle pleasantries. Yet, he didn’t ride much, not since the accident that took his leg and his parents. He much preferred to travel by coach. When on his estate, he used his feet and a cane to move about.
A Sinful Duke She Can't Refuse (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 16
