The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga) (11 page)

“Ahhh,” he
breathed as his hands located and curled around the familiar brown glass vial
his body and mind craved. His fingers popped the top and he downed the
contents. As the drug sped through his body he slid to the floor. The empty
bottled rolled silently off the tips of his fingers onto the thick Persian rug.

Edward closed
his eyes and relished the oblivion as he was carried into another universe. A
universe he craved above all else. It had a strong hold on him, and he did not
know how to extinguish the craving.

***

Upon entering
the morning room the next day, Thomas headed straight to the sideboard and
helped himself to coddled eggs, ham, fruit, and cheese. He sat down at the
table, and a servant poured him coffee. He sat back and savored the hot brew.
As he sipped from the ridiculously small china cup, his eyes took in an elegant
and lovely Emma dressed in a blue morning dress.

Damn it all. He
wanted her above all else.

Emma was a
well-bred lady, not some whore to be tussled with in a brothel. Yet his pulse
spiked, sending blood into his manhood until it ached uncomfortably, pushing
against the front of his breeches. And what made it worse, so disgustingly
worse, was that Sebastian openly looked at Emma the same way he did. Perhaps
the brothers could keep each other company in hell.

Later that morning,
Thomas worked in his study. He tried to ignore all the commotion going on in
the front hall but finally gave up and went to investigate. Floral arrangement
upon arrangement graced the front hall. Clearly every hothouse in London had
been emptied. Thomas tried not to breathe too deeply. Though the aroma was
enjoyable on most occasions, today he found the cloying sweetness irritated his
brain, causing a nagging headache and tightness in his chest.

The silver tray
on the hall table overflowed with cards from gentlemen planning to call that
afternoon for tea. He would give anything to have an excuse to leave for the
day and not come back until late, very late in the evening.

***

That afternoon
Thomas entertained an endless array of gentlemen callers in the blue receiving
room. Amazing what money did to make people forget the scandal his father had
caused before his death. The Duke of Yarmouth, along with several older
gentlemen, graced his home, as well as some young gentlemen who looked to be
right out of the schoolroom.

Thomas wondered
how his mother, Bella, Amelia, and Emma could sit, drink tea, and chat
endlessly with constant smiles on their faces. When Giles announced Captain
Rycroft, Amelia’s face lit up. Amelia blushed and flirted with the captain, sending
Mr. Timothy Crawford out the door with a dejected expression on his young face.

The duke’s dear
sister, Isabella, seemed mildly annoyed by several prospective suitors who
attended to her. Oh, she was polite and gracious, as her upbringing warranted,
but her brother recognized the bored, edgy look in her eyes. It made him wonder
about the mysterious man who had stolen Bella’s heart. Where was he? No doubt
giving his favors elsewhere. Bloody hell, when had he become such a pessimist?

He did not have
to wait long regarding Bella’s mystery gentleman. Lord Norwich was announced.
Damn, had he not spoken plainly enough when he told Myles he would not consider
him as a suitor for Emma?

Then, right
before his eyes, Bella came alive. Her lips broke into a brilliant smile and
her eyes sparkled. She gave all her attention to his friend.

At one point
Myles looked his way, silently pleading for a way out. Thomas almost felt sorry
for him. But it was the adoring love animating Bella that unsettled him more.

“Excuse me,
ladies… Gentlemen, I beg your leave.” He turned to Myles and, brooking no
argument, asked, “May I have a word with you, Lord Norwich?”

Once behind the
closed door of his study Myles sank into a chair and sighed. “Thank you,” he
said, obviously relieved to be removed from Bella’s attention.

Thomas, his
muscles coiled tightly, ready to spring, sat behind his desk and contemplated
what to say to his friend. He decided not to mince words. “What is going on
between you and my sister?” He barked the words out louder than he planned.

Myles winced.

Good.

“Nothing,
believe me when I say this.” Myles’s long fingers combed through his hair in
frustration. “I waltzed with her last evening, once.” He paused, inhaled, and
exhaled loudly. “I never noticed… I swear to you, I never noticed.”

Thomas’s
stomach constricted. “What did you never notice?”

Myles jumped up
and paced the room. “Your sister, much to my regret, is in love with me––or at
the very least, she believes herself in love with me.”

 “How did this
happen?” Thomas needed to know. Yes. He’d seen the love for his friend plain as
day on Bella’s face.

“You think I
wanted this to happen?” Myles turned and stared at Thomas with anguished eyes.
“I’m not worthy of her love. For God’s sake, I have no heart to give. I could
no more marry her than I could marry Emma. They deserve someone who will love
them without reserve.” He groaned out, “Damn Sophie. For stealing my heart,
stomping on it and having the audacity not to give it back.”

“Myles, I…”
Thomas did not know what to say to help his friend. He felt sorry for him, but
when Myles had said he could not marry Emma, Thomas couldn’t help his own
feelings of relief. “With any luck you have mistaken Bella’s feelings for you.”

His friend
stopped pacing and turned toward Thomas. Myles’s face was tired and drawn as he
said, “I hope so. It would break my heart to break hers. I love her, but not
like that. What do I do?”

Thomas almost
laughed. Myles was asking him for help in affairs of the heart…surely it was in
jest? “If she weren’t my sister, I would say tell her outright you are not
interested and beg her forgiveness. But since this is between you and my
sister, more delicate measures must be taken.”

“Indeed,” Myles
agreed. “It is her first season; I do not want her pining over me and miss an
opportunity to find someone who would be perfect for her. Before I came did
anyone pay undue attention to her?”

“Well,” Thomas
reflected, rubbing his chin. “Lord Champlain.”

Myles
stiffened. “He’s too old, a widower with two small children rumored to be sired
by someone else. He must be daft to think Bella would even entertain the
thought of becoming his wife––or that you would to allow it. Besides, there’s
something in his eyes I don’t like. And then there are the rumors surroundings
his obsession with young boys…”

“Yes, well, I
agree. I’ll discourage him from calling in the future. Yarmouth left just
before you arrived.”

“The duke?”
Myles questioned Thomas, then shook his head. “Of course the duke. Who else
would you mean by Yarmouth? He’s a nice enough chap, though still a bit wet
behind the ears. Is he even out of Cambridge?”

Thomas grinned.
“Yes, I believe he graduated while we were on our travels. I agree he’s young;
unfortunately, he seemed interested in Amelia. He would make an excellent match
for Bella, though. And he has a fortune, so he’s not seeking her dowry.”

“Yes, well,
there is that,” Myles agreed. “Maybe you could encourage her to take an outing
with him. That is, if he offers.”

“Oh, I think
he’ll offer,” Thomas said. “I’ll make sure of it.” He paused and frowned. “What
do you think about my brother and his feelings toward Emma?”

“Well, I’d say
they would make an excellent match.” Myles raised his brows. “Except that you—”

Damn Myles for
knowing him all too well. “I could not possibly entertain any such notions
toward her. I can imagine the shocked outrage and then the whispers. I can even
picture the looks of the old biddies of the
ton
staring down their noses
at Emma. They would think it scandalous if I married my ward.”

“Why? You are
not related in anyway. Besides, you are a duke. You can bloody well do anything
you want.”

“She would be
terribly hurt by that. Even so, I appreciate your vote of confidence,” Thomas
stated. “But as with Bella, Emma deserves to be loved, and that is something I
don’t ever intend to feel for her or any other female, for that matter.”

Myles grinned.
“If you say so.” His grin widened. “Let Sebastian have her then.”

“Yes, well…”
Thomas lowered his head and messaged his temples with his index fingers.
“Perhaps.”

He ignored his
friend’s laughter and the uncomfortable tightness he felt in his chest when he
thought about that eventuality.

CHAPTER
TEN

Would the
endless stream of visitors never end? Emma’s jaw ached from smiling. If she had
to hear about the weather one more time she might scream. How unladylike would
that be? Her bladder felt near to bursting from all the tea, causing her to
shift uncomfortably in her seat, which, of course, made it worse.

Other than
Captain Rycroft, who gave all his attention to Amelia, the other gentlemen in
attendance seemed not to care whether they chatted with her or Bella. It was as
though they did not care which of the young ladies entertained their
affections. Either of them would do.

Emma did not
agree. Her heart clenched at their callous gestures of interest. None of them
would do. They were either young and stared at her bosom as though that were
her only attribute. The several older gentlemen were no better. All the while
her skin prickled as if she were on the auction block. Her dreams of being
introduced into London Society crashed down around her feet, taking her heart
with it. The romance of it gave away to a degrading reality.

The only
brightness had been during her conversations with Sebastian. Thank God, he
spent most of the time looking into her eyes––although even his eyes wandered
to her bosom, causing heat to rise and singe her cheeks.

Emma’s head
began to hurt. It felt as though someone had smacked the back of it. The look
in Sebastian’s eyes right now, as he stared at her from across the room,
bothered her. He wanted her. She’d noticed last night during their waltz. This
scenario was most difficult because she’d never socialized with eligible men
before, and she had never had men look at her like that. She silently cursed;
there was much to learn about the male populace.

“Pardon me.”
She rose up from the settee, and all the gentlemen rose as well. She turned to
the dowager duchess and asked, “May I have permission to leave?”

“Yes, you may,
Emma,” answered the dowager.

Once out in the
foyer, Emma placed a shaky hand on the wall and the other on her stomach and
drew in a deep breath. The warm temperature and the overly sweet scent of
flowers choked her.

After visiting
the downstairs water closet, she made her way up the stairs. Her legs dragged,
and her arms strained to hold up her skirts. All she wanted was to collapse on
her bed. She stepped into the upstairs hallway, sighing in relief at her
escape. Then her name was called.

“Emma.”

Closing her
eyes, she tried to steady her pounding heart. “Sebastian?”

His gentle hand
touched her upper arm and she pivoted, all air vacating her lungs. His eyes
burned her with their concern and yearning.

“Are you
unwell?” he asked solicitously.

“I . . .” Emma
swallowed and lowered her eyes. “I’m afraid I drank too much tea, and now I
have a mild headache. I apologize if I caused you any concern.”

She could not
breathe. Sebastian’s warm fingers grazed her chin, tilting her head up so she
had no choice but to meet his darker-than-normal blue eyes.

“Emma, I know
this is sudden.” His eyes penetrated her soul. “I have feelings for you.”

Her body
stiffened. He noticed and raised one brow in silent question.

 “Have I
offended you?”

Paralyzed
physically, she could do nothing as he leaned close to her ear, his hot breath
tickling her.

“Please forgive
me,” he murmured.

She never
expected it. His lips brushed hers lightly, like butterfly wings.

“Please forgive
me,” Sebastian whispered again. Then he turned, and by the sound and quickness
of his footsteps, he must have hurried downstairs.

It took Emma a
moment for her feet to cooperate and take her down the hallway to her
bedchamber. Her maid, Rosie, was placing folded clothing into her chest of
drawers.

“Miss Emma,
have the gentlemen gone? Simon told Mrs. Spenser, who told me, that there were
never so many gentlemen to visit this house on a single day. You, Lady Isabella,
Lady Amelia must have made quite an impression at the ball you attended last
night.”

Emma shook her
head and sank down onto the side of her bed. “No, the drawing room is still
quite full. I have a bit of a headache and thought I would rest. I do not want
to miss Almack’s this evening.” Even in America, every young lady dreamed of
attending Almack’s.

Would it too
be a tiresome disappointment?

Rosie joined
her at the bed. “Let me help you undress so you can rest your weary bones.”

Once alone,
Emma crawled under the covers in nothing but her chemise and pantaloons and
did, indeed, fall into an exhausted sleep.

***

Thomas stood
riveted as he watched the encounter between his brother and Emma. And now he
did not have to look at Myles standing beside him to know he was smirking. All
Thomas knew was that his own hands fisted up tightly and something similar to
rampant jealousy boiled deep inside him. If it truly were jealousy, he would be
damned if he would admit it.

He had been
drawn to look for Emma once he was aware she’d left the crowded room. From
where he stood at the base of the stairs he saw her step onto the landing
above. He’d found her, but she wasn’t alone. Thomas’s gaze never wavered from
them. When Sebastian had leaned in to kiss Emma he had to fight down the urge
to run up the stairs, yank them apart, and carry Emma to his chamber to make
her his.

Instead he
stood stone still, holding his breath and watching the horrifying scene unfold.
And when he tried to convince himself that Sebastian would be good for Emma,
the burning inferno within his heart told him otherwise. Oh, Thomas knew they
would be good together. But Thomas needed and wanted her more than anything
else in the world.

It was
unbearable to be close to her now. He knew duty dictated he find her a husband,
yet his body was not listening one whit.

His mind raced
with ways to excuse himself from Almack’s that evening. Try as he might, he
could not come up with a plausible excuse.

And his duty
was to keep an eye on his sisters.

And Emma.

His body
quivered uncomfortably at the thought of any other man attracting Emma’s
attention, or, God forbid, her love.

***

“I can’t
believe you convinced me to attend Almack’s, of all places,” Amesbury
complained to his two friends as he wiped perspiration from his brow.

The fact that
Amesbury was sweating perplexed Thomas since the evening air possessed a chill.
When he looked closely at Amesbury, he saw that all color had drained from his
face and he appeared somewhat shaky. Perhaps he’d suggest they leave.

“Your
subscription has not lapsed. Besides, you need to spend more time with Lady
Beth before you wed,” Myles said as he nudged Amesbury forward. “The poor dear
looks at you with such adoration––followed by anguish when you ignore her.”

“I know. I’m a
terrible person. She deserves better,” Amesbury croaked out.

Myles snorted.
“You’re a marquess. How much better can she do?”

Amesbury
sighed. “That’s not what I mean. She deserves someone who likes her and
respects her and enjoys her company.”

“You don’t like
her?” Thomas was shocked, to say the least, by his friend’s comment. How could
anybody not like Lady Beth?

“I don’t even
know her; how can I like her?” Amesbury remarked.

“Easily
remedied if you spend time with her,” Myles added as he surveyed the crowded
room.

“Help me break
it off,” Amesbury pleaded with his two best friends.

“Break it off?”
Thomas said a tad too loud, causing several people to look their way. “Are you
out of you mind?” he asked softly. “You cannot break it off; she will be
ruined. Only she can decide to end it, and I highly doubt she will. Nor would I
expect her father to allow her to do so. You are, after all, an extremely
wealthy marquess.”

“I don’t know
if I can go through with it,” Amesbury said.

Thomas and
Myles exchanged shocked looks.

“Let’s stay an
hour,” Thomas pleaded. “That should be a respectable enough time. Afterwards,
we can go to Brooks, have a real gentleman’s drink. What do you say?”

Once again
Amesbury swiped perspiration from his brow.

“Fine.”

***

Restless and
unable to sleep, Thomas scanned the books in the library, looking for anything
that caught his eye. Just as his fingers curled around the spine of a
collection of poems by Lord Byron his heart thundered strangely. He did not
usually read poetry or feel in tune with its sentiments. Certainly not love
poems. Yet here he was, and as he read

‘She walks in beauty, like the night’
his
thoughts turned to Emma…

Was he in love
with Emma?

And no matter
how hard he tried to concentrate on the next words, she would not leave his
thoughts. Damn Emma and his physical attraction to her. Perhaps he would not be
so smitten if he got to know her better and saw her flaws.

Resigned to
this train of thought, and drawn by the poetry, he took a seat directly in
front of the fire still blazing in the hearth, using the light from the flames
to illuminate the pages.

Shortly
thereafter, all air left his lungs as he heard the light patter of feet. His
heart stopped as well when the woman who invaded his every thought entered the
library holding a candle. So intent was Emma’s interest in scanning the
numerous volumes filling the bookshelves she did not spy him peeking over the
back of the chair. That suited Thomas perfectly. His awareness heightened when
he noticed that her long white nightgown with open robe did little to hide what
was beneath.

His heart
pounded against his chest, and heat pooled in his loins. She turned sideways,
allowing the light from the low flames in the fireplace to illuminate her
perfectly round breasts that jutted out from her slim athletic frame, as if
seeking something or someone. The air was chilly in the room, and he noticed
her nipples, peaked and pebbled against the thin fabric.

It took every
ounce of control Thomas possessed to stay seated. His fingers burned to stroke
his thumb across her hardened nipples. His mouth ached to taste Emma’s full
pink lips, to nibble her long graceful neck. Every nerve in his body quivered
with need as he rose quietly from his seat. Placing his book down on the chair,
he strode across the room. Everything about her beckoned him. He could no more
stop himself from going to her than a honeybee could ignore plucking nectar
from a flower.

“Emma,” he whispered
as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him. The sweetness
of her form caused a groan to escape his lips. She felt better than he’d
imagined.

Her entire body
stiffened one muscle and tendon at a time. He silently cursed himself for being
foolish and bold. She was an innocent and she was letting him know his behavior
was unacceptable.

As Thomas
opened his mouth to apologize he found there was no need.

“Your Grace,”
Emma murmured as her body melted back into his.

Closing his
eyes, he fought the needs of his own body and tuned himself to hers. Their
hearts beat in perfect rhythm. His fingers brushed her unbound hair aside,
exposing her ear.

“Call me
Thomas,” he whispered.

His lips
traveled down her neck. Her jasmine scent tickled his nostrils. She tasted
young and soft and dangerous and addictive.

“Oh, God, Emma,
I can’t help myself. I want you.” He realized with those words that he had
wanted her since their first encounter in Boston, when she had arrived in the
receiving room slightly breathless, disheveled, and dressed in black mourning
garb.

Thomas spun her
around, cupped her bottom with one large hand, and curled the other around the
back of her neck. Then he crushed his mouth with hers. His brain cried out for
him to stop, but Emma was pliant and melted into his kiss. Her soft, innocent,
questing lips inflamed him.

A little gasp
escaped her, and he took advantage. He swept his tongue inside her luscious
mouth, seeking, tasting, and drowning. Thomas never craved anyone so deeply
before. God help him, he wanted her, needed her like one needed air to live.
One of his hands skimmed up her rib cage and cupped her unbound breast. His
knees almost buckled when she shivered in response. Then she stilled.

“No.” She
gasped. Her hands pushed against his chest. “Stop,” she demanded.

 He dropped his
arms, stepped back, and bowed. “Forgive me,” he gasped, attempting to catch his
breath and slow the fierce beating of his heart.

Right before
his eyes she changed. Her chin came up in defiance, her blue eyes burning into
him. She was flushed, not with sensual awareness any longer but with pure
anger.

“How dare you
take advantage of me in your home?” Her voice vibrated with rage. “You . . .
you . . . vile degenerate, you rakehell, rogue . . . despoiler of innocents.”

Before Thomas
could apologize again Emma stormed out, leaving him to deal with his own guilt
and wounded pride. What the bloody hell had he been thinking?

Oh, that’s
right, I’m an idiot. I had not been thinking. I let my lust rule me.

Silently he
made a promise to himself that he would never, ever, touch her improperly
again. Making that promise shredded his heart, and he knew, given the same
circumstances, it was a promise he would not be able to keep.

***

Emma’s bare
feet never stopped moving until she reached her bedchamber. Behind the closed
door, she dropped to her knees, with heart pounding and body trembling. She
wrapped her arms around herself, willing her body to calm.

Time suspended
as she relived every single moment of the kiss she and the duke had shared. How
he smelled earthy and had tasted faintly like brandy, and how the texture of
his tongue tickled her as it invaded her mouth. How his strong yet gentle hands
had tantalized and burned her to her core.