The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga) (15 page)

God help him,
he wanted her. The urge to take her and finally make her his overpowered every
sensible thought in his mind.

Tearing his
lips from hers, he nuzzled her neck, his hands skimming her sides to cup her
breasts through her layers of clothing. She shivered in response. Not good
enough.

Thomas needed
to feel warm soft flesh. With deft fingers he unbuttoned the back of Emma’s
dress until he could free her full, pale breasts to his eyes. At the sight of
her, Thomas’s breath hitched and his member, already hard, filled to uncomfortable
proportions inside his breeches. Gently he cupped both glorious orbs in his
hands and groaned again.

“You are
beautiful,” he whispered with reverence as he touched her.

“Thomas, we mustn’t
. . .” The rest of the words escaped her as he lowered his head and suckled her
nipple. He felt her knees buckle.

Her hands
reached out and grabbed his waist to steady herself.

***

Thomas bit her
playfully, and a flood of moisture pooled between her thighs. While his mouth
continued the tender torture of her breasts, she arched her back and fisted her
hands into his hair to pull him closer.

Again, the
nagging voice in the back of her mind told her this was wrong, that this was
scandalous and improper. But her body would not listen as sensation after
sensation flooded her with a need for something more. There was something she
could not grasp, no matter how hard she sought to. But she wanted to learn all
of it with this man.

“Thomas, I . .
. feel . . .”

“Yes, let
yourself feel. Let yourself go.” His voice vibrated against her exposed
breasts, and she shivered. Then one of his hands reached for her skirt and
pulled it up while his other lightly feathered up her thigh until he cupped her
there.
A place she barely touched herself.

A moan escaped
Emma. She moved her hips against his hand, shamelessly, as his lips captured
hers once again. His tongue plundered her mouth, and she gasped when his
fingers found the slit in her pantaloons and he slid one finger deep within
her. Tongue and finger mimicked one another. At the back of her mind she knew
she should protest, but her body wiggled closer, into his hand.

As her tongue
danced with his, a knot formed low in her belly and something shattered
throughout her body, sending her into sweet bliss. If Thomas had not kissed her
screams away the whole house would have heard.

That
disconcerting thought of discovery brought her back to her senses too late.

“What the
bloody hell are you doing?” Sebastian yelled as he shoved Thomas away from her.
Then his shocked eyes fell on Emma’s exposed breasts.

“You whore. You
refuse my advances but fall like a doxy into my brother’s arms to seek your
pleasure.”

Emma clutched
her dress to her breasts and stared, tears streaming down her cheeks at her
shame and the hate she witnessed in Sebastian’s eyes.

“Sebastian, it
is not what you think,” Thomas bellowed, as Sebastian’s fist connected with his
chin, sending the duke reeling back against a chair. He righted himself and
dove for his brother’s waist, and they both fell to the ground.

“Stop it, stop
it.” Emma sobbed as she tried to pull them apart. Her bodice dropped once
again, exposing her breasts; both men stopped and gaped as her.

“Damn you both
to hell,” she cried as she clutched her dress.

Sebastian rose
up first and pointed a trembling finger at her. “You fooled me. You fooled
everyone in this house into thinking you were an innocent. You probably whored
yourself out to my brother and Myles on the trip across the Atlantic.”

Emma gasped,
almost succumbing to the agonizing pain gripping her heart. The room began to
tilt. Words failed her when Wentworth shouted, “Do not talk to her like that.
She
is
innocent. This was my fault. She had no idea what I was doing to
her. You’d better beg her forgiveness.”

Sebastian
snorted in disbelief. “Why should I? I asked her to marry me less than half an
hour ago. I came in here moments later and . . . found . . . her nearly naked
with your hand up her skirt. What am I supposed to think?
She’s
the one
that owes
me
an apology.” He stalked to the doors and then turned back.
“If you want this little episode kept quiet, I expect my demands to be met. You
must write the Prince Regent and reject my commission, on my behalf. I am
booking passage to America on the first ship I can find. Send word to your
people at Hamilton Oil and tell them I will be taking over for you there.

“And I expect
more than a modest salary…and housing. It is the least you can do for your
untitled brother. And if it were not for…” He cast daggers at Emma with his
eyes. “If not for her father’s fortune you would be broke and have nothing to
offer anyone except your lofty title and your bad manners. I will pack and be
gone within the hour, and, God willing, I will never set eyes on either one of
you again.” He stormed out.

Thomas, pale as
death, walked behind her and buttoned up her dress. “I am sorry I embarrassed
you in front of my brother.” Once the last button was fastened he turned her in
his arms. “Emma, I can’t believe I’m going to do this minutes after Sebastian
did, but I am.” He dropped down on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

Emma could not
believe her eyes and ears. If only she could be sure he truly wanted her as his
wife and meant the words.

In her heart
she was not convinced he did. She gave the only answer she could…

“No.”

“No.” Thomas’s
nostrils flared. “No?”

She made no
response.

“Fine,” he
resumed. “If that’s your choice, this situation can’t continue. I think the
best thing for both of us is for me to marry you off as quickly as possible.
Spare us both the torture of living in the same house. Maybe tonight will be
your lucky night.”

***

Before Thomas
could say any more hurtful things Emma fled the library and sought solace in
her bedchamber. Left alone with her shredded heart, Emma sank down onto her
bed, buried her face in her hands, and rocked back and forth, sobbing for the
two men she loved. One as a friend she’d lost for good, and one she had hoped
to spend all eternity with and now certainly knew she could not––no matter his
proposal.

“Papa,” she
cried. “I need you. I want to go home. Please, Papa.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“What do you
mean, you are moving out?” The dowager duchess hurried to keep up with
Sebastian as he followed his trunks down the stairs. On her heels were Amelia
and Bella, both looking frantic.

“Just what I
said, Mother,” Sebastian snapped as he entered the foyer. “Wentworth has been
most generous in offering me the chance to make my own fortune running Hamilton
Oil, and I accepted. I leave today. A merchant ship sails for America on this
evening’s tide, and I plan to leave with it.”

Sebastian
ignored the heavy weight crushing his heart at the thought of leaving his
family and friends behind.
What choice do I have?
Living in this house
with Emma and Thomas would kill him.

For once in his
life he’d given his heart away, only to have it stomped on and cast aside. The
love of his life preferred his brother, the duke. He had expected behavior like
that from the silly debutantes attending the balls and soirees in London this
season, but not from Emma. He had thought she was different.

“Stop right
this minute,” his mother demanded in her most clipped ‘duchess voice.’ At her
tone Sebastian paused in his tracks, his mind tumbling back to his boyhood when
he and Thomas were caught causing mischief. Sometimes they would lock their
tutor out of the classroom. Climb out the window, and run as far away from the
estate as they could. They would always return when it became dark or their
stomachs growled, even though they would have to face mother’s wrath.   

“Turn and look
at me. Tell me, what has brought this on?”

Closing his
eyes, Sebastian hoped to keep all his emotions from showing. He did not want
his mother knowing about his troubles with Thomas––or the reason.

“Mother, I
realized something about myself these past days, weeks, months. I can’t live
under the generosity of Wentworth.” Yes, he would refer to his brother as
Wentworth from now on. Sebastian saw he was no longer a true brother, other
than in name and through financial connection. “I inquired about taking this
position at Hamilton Oil. After running all Wentworth’s estates and properties
and overseeing renovations to this house while he was in America, I realized I
can no longer go back to doing nothing.”

Sebastian
hugged his mother, something he never remembered doing before. “Don’t worry
about me; I plan on taking America by storm. And I’ll be back to visit and I’ll
write every week.”

His mother
pulled back and touched his cheek with the palm of her hand. “If you must, go
with my blessing. Take care of yourself. Stay away from the natives that roam
those lands.”

Amelia and
Bella both hugged him together, and his heart nearly broke apart.

“What will I do
without you, dear brother?” Amelia sniffed. “Thomas is so stuffy since becoming
a duke. He is no fun at all.”

Sebastian
stepped back and smiled at Amelia, fighting back his own tears. He grabbed
Bella’s hand and squeezed. “You will find yourself a husband, have babies, and
live a long and wonderful life. You do not need me. I love you both. Don’t ever
forget that. And marry well and marry for love. Don’t let Wentworth force you
into a marriage without that. Don’t do it without your heart engaged and the
gentleman’s heart involved.” He banged his chest with his fist, forcing a smile
onto his face and enthusiasm into his voice. “I will write as soon as I’m in
Boston.”

Once inside the
coach, he’d cooled down but ignored the guilt riding him for not having said
goodbye to his brother or to Emma. His hand massaged the pain in his chest over
his heart. If he saw either one of them now, he would drop to his knees and beg
their forgiveness for his hurtful words, said in anger. He might even stay.

Stubborn pride,
however, would not allow him to go back inside. Bloody hell, he did not want to
leave England. Never, ever, in his wildest dreams, did he imagine traveling to
America. His words and reasons, spoken aloud, left him no choice. Was he now
damned for his stubborn pride?

***

Emma spent the
day in bed, begging a migraine. She could not face any member of the Seabrook
family, knowing she was to blame for Sebastian’s hasty and emotional departure.
How could any of them ever forgive her if they knew the truth of what
transpired between her and Thomas and Sebastian? And forgiving herself would
never happen.

Rosie came in
several times with food and to check on Emma. The trays went back to the
kitchen untouched, and she sent Bella and Amelia away without seeing them as
well. Who knew guilt could consume you and make you physically ill? She’d
learned it could––and learned it the hard way.

Then
his
words
filtered in her mind about finding her a husband as soon as possible. Emma
flung herself over onto her stomach and screamed all her heartache and
frustration into her pillows. She was without any control over her life. Why
had she not accepted his proposal even without a declaration of love? She
wanted to be his wife more than anything. What was wrong with her?

What she would
give to be back at finishing school. Why, oh why, had she not understood how
much better off she had been then? Spending her days with her studies, writing
to her heart’s content, spending her free time with Amy and Penelope and
sitting in the kitchen with Mrs. Gertrude.

Never had she
envisioned her life as it was now, without Papa or the support of anyone else.
Yes, she knew she had Bella and Amelia, but she could never confide in them
about their brothers. She had behaved scandalously, and if word of that
traveled about, she would be ruined. And she was anyway. The man she loved, and
would love for the rest of her life, wanted to marry her off quickly to
another. She did not believe he would ever propose again.

Surely, Papa
left her an allowance in his will? Would he put his trust completely in the son
of his childhood friend? A long time ago…had Thomas mentioned something about
money in trust for her? Sighing, she rose to her knees and climbed out of the
bed, determined to do something, anything to change her current situation.

She pulled on
the tassel to summon Rosie. Tonight there was to be a soiree at Lord and Lady
Booneville’s Mayfair home. She would show the duke; she would find her own
husband.

Wentworth had
made it perfectly clear she needed to find a husband and move out. So she would
take matters into her own hands. She refused to let him dictate who she would
spend the rest of her days with. What right did he have, anyway?

Myles would
make an acceptable husband. He was handsome, witty, and kind. Except there was
one major problem. Bella loved him and Emma didn’t. She groaned. Still, there
were other eligible men in London. She would just find an amiable and
interesting one and flirt shamelessly. Someone must be willing to marry an
American with a large dowry.

Did I have a
large dowry?
That was another something she would have to speak to
him
about.

Wait.
Emma’s stomach knotted up. What had Sebastian said about her papa’s money? That
without it, Thomas would be broke. How could that be? Dukes were rich, were
they not? That was another conversation she would have with him. She could no
longer let herself think of him as Thomas, either. And if her papa’s money was
paying for his more-than-modest lifestyle, then surely he could give her a
yearly allowance and let her be.

Maybe she would
go back to her original plan and return to Boston to live out her days in
solitude, writing to her heart’s content. That sounded more appealing.

 If Sebastian’s
blackmailing worked with Wentworth, maybe she could do the same. Blackmail him
into letting her return home, live in her papa’s sea captain’s home by the ocean,
where she could write for pleasure.

She had a
niggling feeling he would agree to anything, if she threatened to expose their
little liaison in the library. Not that she would ever do such a thing because
it would surely affect her more than him. But would Sebastian remain silent
about events in England if she returned to America? Her life could be ruined on
either side of the ocean.

Wentworth had
proposed but didn’t really want to marry her. He was expected to marry someone
of his class and was only being honorable because someone caught them in a
compromising situation.

Yes. She knew
that…but…

Suddenly the
solution became clear. Her heart lifted and she opened her wardrobe, searching
for just the right gown to wear that night. Everything had to be planned
accordingly in order for her scheme to work. If things went according to plan,
by this time tomorrow Emma could be packing for her journey home.

***

By the time
Thomas arrived back at Amesbury’s home he felt far worse than when he had left.
In his friend’s bedchamber, he found Amesbury sleeping. He looked less pale.
Myles slept slouched in a chair; he would have the devil of a sore neck when he
awoke.

Quietly, taking
a seat in a brocade chair by the fireplace, Thomas closed his eyes, hoping to
alleviate the pounding in his head and his heart. There were days when being a
duke was torture. Adding careless stupidity to the mix hadn’t helped. He’d
really messed up the family he’d tried to support and protect. And possibly
ruined any chance he had for happiness.

He looked from
one friend to the other.

It could be
worse. He could be Amesbury.

Thoughts of his
friend drifted in his head. Seeing Amesbury lying in bed, his skin tinged blue,
barely breathing and at death’s door, had shocked Thomas to the core. Life was
fleeting and one never knew from one day to the next what could happen.
Amesbury had seemed afraid to marry Lady Beth. Could that be because of his
weakness––the opium his body and mind had craved? Or was it something else
entirely?

Amesbury did not
appear to have money issues, but what did he know? Rumors of Wentworth’s
family’s lack of coin had traveled through the
ton
like a forest fire
during a dry spell
.
Could his friend have kept such a secret? He doubted
it.

So if not money
issues, what had made him turn to laudanum to numb his brain?

Thomas sighed.
He would have to believe that Amesbury would confide and seek his help when he
was ready. Meanwhile, Thomas would do anything to keep his friend alive, even
if it meant begging Lady Beth to break their marriage contract. Thomas believed
if Amesbury were to continue with his engagement to Lady Beth, he would
continue to use opium and ultimately die. The breaking of the betrothal would
have all the gossips wagging their tongues. However, it would not be the first
time a lady broke off an engagement with a marquess, and it certainly would not
be the last.

Lady Beth could
explain that during their engagement she realized they did not suit and she
thought it better to discover that before the marriage took place.

He knew just
what he had to do. If Myles would stay with Amesbury tonight, Thomas would
attend Lord and Lady Booneville’s soiree and speak with Lady Beth in private.

Once settled on
that action, Thomas needed to contend with his own personal dilemmas. His
desire and weakness for Emma had driven his brother from their home and
country. Thomas hadn’t been able to keep his hands to himself, so now Sebastian
would never marry Emma, the woman he loved.

Thomas’s
muscles tensed up, so he rotated his shoulders around and around. What a bloody
arse he was, hurting his own brother the way he had.

In addition to
that, he could only imagine the hurt he had caused Emma because of the way he
proposed and what he’d said when she declined his offer. He’d lashed out, tried
to hurt her as she’d hurt him with her answer. It might have been bad timing,
but he’d already decided he did want to marry her. But Sebastian, damn him, had
hinted about the family’s lack of coin. How long would it take for her to find
out the circumstances behind his connection to her father’s estate and his
death?

When she did,
she would hate him forever. As much as Thomas wanted Emma, he needed to get her
away from him as soon as possible. He needed to protect her from the truth and
secure her happiness. As visions of Emma married to another flashed before his
eyes, his hands painfully gripped the arms of the chair. The thought of another
man’s hands on Emma’s delicious body, or of another claiming her as his own,
was driving him mad. Why hadn’t she accepted his offer? Thomas had to admit to
himself that yes, he lusted after Emma, but lust was only the beginning of what
he felt for her. He oftentimes watched her when she interacted with the
servants, his sisters, and his mother. At all times Emma was kind, attentive,
and patient. She would make a perfect duchess.   

The Prince had
hinted at a match between Wentworth and Lady Madeline McFarlane, the daughter
of the Earl of Lennon and Laird of Clan McFarlane. The Regent continued to
strive to improve England’s relations with the Scots.

Raking his
hands through his hair, Wentworth cringed at the thought of marrying Lady
Madeline. Not that there was anything wrong with her. She was comely enough,
but at the time he and the Prince Regent contemplated the match, he had been in
dire need of coin. The Earl of Lennon was one of the few Scotsmen with enough
to spare.

Today, there
was no such financial need, and he no longer thought Lady Madeline would suit
him. Not like his ward did.

Lady Madeline’s
eldest brother, Aiden, who would inherit the earldom, might possibly suit Bella
though. Maybe that marriage would appease the Prince Regent and his desire to
blend the two families. Could he perhaps convince the Prince to allow him to
marry Emma?

“When did you
get back?” Myles asked as he stretched his sleep-stiff body.