The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga) (3 page)

CHAPTER
FOUR

Emma ran her
hands down her black dress to smooth out the creases. Her hair was tied back
with a matching silk ribbon, leaving her wavy strawberry-blond tresses
cascading down her back. She’d been curled up in a chair in the library reading
when she received her summons from the headmistress to come to the receiving
room posthaste.

And with haste
was how she arrived. Emma ran most of the way, but, right before anyone in the
receiving room could get a glimpse of her, she halted. Her lungs dragged in
much-needed air, and she tried to slow the heart pounding wildly inside her rib
cage. That was not so much from physical exertion but rather because she was
nervous to meet her visitor. She knew this unnamed visitor could be none other
than the duke.

Miss Beauregard
had received a missive just that morning clarifying the duke’s arrival in
Boston. And Emma had planned several proper receiving speeches in her head,
because according to Miss Beauregard, Emma often spoke without thinking. Something
proper ladies did not do.

Papa had not
seen anything wrong with her voicing her opinions.

Suddenly her
body trembled, and she could not remember any of her practiced speeches. Would
the duke find fault with her running or any other less-than-ladylike behavior?
She huffed. Would she ever be free again to live life as she pleased?

Would the duke
take her back to England now, or would she get to finish out her final year
here? She needed the year because how could she just up and leave Amy to the
spoiled, mean girls attending here? Penelope, Emma’s friend, could only do so
much to protect Amy. Amy still needed Emma.

During Emma’s
final year, she planned to right all the evil done to Amy. Help Amy build up
her self-esteem and boost her confidence and help her learn to stick up for
herself. Even if she traveled to England, Emma planned to come back for Amy as
soon as she could. Amy was like her little sister. They needed each other.

“There you are,
child.” Miss Beauregard’s annoying voice traveled out into the foyer. “Stop
fidgeting and come forward to meet His Grace.”

Stop
fidgeting
. Would the woman ever stop insulting her at every opportunity?
Emma swallowed her anger and lowered her head in feigned obedience.

“Yes,
Headmistress.” With that being mumbled, she passed through the open double
doors and lifted her face in expectation.

Her jaw
dropped. Thank God she had the good sense to close it quickly.

The well turned
out man standing in front of her with a devilish grin plastered on his face and
sparkling emerald-green eyes was not repulsive, wrinkled, or old. For some odd
reason her pulse sped up as she demurely eyed his slightly long auburn hair
hitting his jacket collar. And then he bowed a perfect flourish of gentlemanly
charm.

“It is a
pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Hamilton. I am Lord Norwich, and the
gentleman across the room is His Grace, the Duke of Wentworth.”

Every speck of
air left her lungs. Of course this gentleman was not the duke. He was . . . he
was . . . handsome and young. Emma swallowed past the lump in her throat,
afraid to look in the direction of the other gentleman in the room. The one she
had not even known was present.

“Please forgive
my manners.” Miss Beauregard came forward, her voice pitched slightly higher
than the norm. “Your Grace, may I present Miss Hamilton, your ward?”

Then the
headmistress added, “Emma,
this
is your guardian, the Duke of
Wentworth.”

The scalding
hot vibration started in Emma’s toes and spread until it encompassed her brain.
She nearly stumbled forward during her curtsy. “It is a great pleasure to make
your acquaintance, Your Grace.”

He bowed at the
waist, never taking his sparkling blue eyes from hers, and if Emma wasn’t
mistaken, he found some amusement with her situation.

“The pleasure
is all mine. I do hope this visit finds you well,” said the duke.

 If Emma had
stared open-mouthed at Lord Norwich, then she gaped at the duke. Surely there
was some mistake. The duke standing in front of her did not match any of the
pictures she had envisioned. This would not do. Where was the old, wrinkled
man? The duke who had visited her dreams? She did not want this way-too-dashing
young gentleman to be her guardian. Emma needed a father figure. Not a
gentleman who would plague her innocent dreams at night, causing her to have
unladylike thoughts.

This duke
seemed way too tall, possessing wide shoulders, narrow hips, and long, muscled
legs. It was hard to tell where his black pantaloons ended and his polished
Hessians began. His long, wheat-colored hair was pulled back in a queue. His
face could have been chiseled by some sculptor during ancient times. The duke’s
features were perfect in every way. And his eyes—her pulse leaped when they
looked directly at her. Emma had never seen such dark, cobalt-blue eyes. No
mere mortal man could be this beautiful to look at and have a good heart as
well. So, on the spot, to guard her from romanticizing him further, she decided
his angelic perfect looks hid the devil inside.

“I am well,
Your Grace. And may I add,” Emma smiled at him, hoping he would believe her
motives genuine, “welcome to Boston.”

“Thank you. I
look forward to exploring the area during the next few days.” The duke glanced
at his friend, standing at his side. “It would be an honor if you would
consider accompanying Lord Norwich and me on an outing while we are here.”

Could he be
serious?
Emma could not go out with two young gentlemen without a proper
chaperone. Her hesitation was noticed and the silence broken.

“As your
guardian, I would like to become further acquainted with you so I may make
arrangements for your comfort when we arrive in England. Do you have a lady’s
maid that can accompany us? If not, I am quite convinced Miss Beauregard can
supply us with a suitable chaperone.” The duke gave her a warm smile.

The
transformation that came with the smile astounded her. Frissons of tingles
traveled up her arms, causing goose bumps to break out. Emma had thought him
perfect before, but when he smiled his face warmed, causing little lines to
crinkle at the corners of his eyes and two dimples to appear in the middle of
his cheeks. She attributed her sudden fixation on the handsome duke to the fact
she’d led a sheltered life where, according to society’s dictates, males were
not involved.

She had much to
learn about the gentlemen of the world, she decided, if she planned to be on
her own one day. Not that she really and truly wanted to live alone. She just
didn’t believe anything else existed out there in the vast world for her. She
wondered if all young ladies thought like that when facing an unplanned and
traumatic change to their normal lives.

Emma pushed her
wandering thoughts aside and listened to the duke’s deep voice resonate
throughout the small room. “Also, my two dear sisters, my mother, and my
brother are anxious to receive word of you.”

She lowered her
head. “It would be an honor to accompany Your Grace and Lord Norwich on an
outing.”

“Splendid. We
shall call on you tomorrow at ten.” His Grace bowed. “I beg your leave.”

Emma curtsied
with all the elegance and grace she could muster, regardless of the fluttering
inside her stomach. “Until tomorrow, Your Grace.”

***

“Well,” Myles
announced as they descended the front steps, “I think that went well, all
things considered.” He stole a glance at Thomas. “Don’t you?”

Well?
Had
his friend taken leave of his wits?
Miss Emma Hamilton was not the sort of
ward Thomas needed in his life right now. Thomas already had two beautiful
sisters to guard and protect from fortune hunters and unsavory rogues, until he
could marry them off––God willing, without a hint of scandal. Now he had Miss
Hamilton. His heart jumped when he thought of her tall, slender, and graceful
figure. The plain black mourning dress had done little to hide the young lady’s
attributes. As willowy as she appeared, she possessed womanly curves in all the
right places. Places men like him dreamed about caressing. Never mind that she
looked like an angel from the neck up.

And Miss
Hamilton was more than attractive. Warm heat surged inside Thomas’s body as he pictured
her oval face, high cheekbones, generous pink lips, and small pert nose, all
accentuated by milk-white, flawless skin. Her eyes were a soft pale blue, and
her strawberry-blond hair, carelessly pulled back with a ribbon, had done
little to tame the wild tresses clinging to her face and shoulders. The feature
he noticed most about her, and he’d had trouble not staring at during their
brief meeting, was the dimple in the center of her stubborn chin. And call it
gentleman’s intuition, but he knew her stubbornness would be difficult to curb.
Hadn’t her letter to him hinted at determination and stubbornness? He should
not find himself surprised by this attribute.

Thomas refused
to acknowledge his body’s reaction to Miss Hamilton. Any healthy gentleman would
experience the same when looking at an exceedingly beautiful member of the
fairer sex. And he’d been on a ship for six weeks. It had nothing to do with
any attraction or awakening of desire he felt toward Emma—Miss Hamilton. She
was now another sister to take care of, and nothing more.

So, added to
his two sisters, he now had a goddess to protect and deliver into a suitable
match. If Thomas’s good name didn’t plummet from scandal when the three of them
made their entrance into London Society, he’d consider himself a lucky man. And
if Thomas were to find three gentlemen of good social standing and family to
marry them, he would consider himself the luckiest man in all of England.

Of course,
scandal was nothing new to the Wentworth Duchy. His father had seen to that.
Thomas still struggled with that to this day. Trying to forgive his father for
his recklessness and selfishness was an ongoing problem for Thomas. Oh, he
believed he finally had forgiven his father, but the memories haunted him, and
someday soon he would have to put them to rest. But he had to admit he would
hate for scandal to be attached to his family name again.

Not so much for
him, but for his family. His sisters deserved better than their father had
given them, and it was not their fault their father had lacked scruples. Thomas
was determined to keep respectability attached to their family name.

Thomas’s
fingers rubbed the fine hairs on the back of his neck. Miss Emma Hamilton, he
had the feeling, would turn out to be the bane of his existence. Could become
the reason to numb his mind with strong spirits, rip the hair out of his head,
and seek to slake his manly needs with his widow friends. If he survived with
his wits intact until he had her safely married off, a celebration with a
holiday on the Continent would be his reward.

Thomas forced
his mind back to answering his friend’s question. “One could say the meeting
was satisfactory. Miss Hamilton should not be too difficult to marry off. Not
with her comely looks and her generous inheritance.”

Myles burst out
laughing from the coach seat opposite. “Comely? She is much more than comely.
When I first spied her out in the foyer, I could no longer breathe. I have
never seen such a vision before. For a time I was convinced she was not real,
something my imagination created.” Myles paused, his brows drawn in
seriousness. “I might consider marriage to her myself.”

“What?” Thomas
barked as his chest constricted painfully. “You can’t be serious.”

Myles’s
lecherous grin was unnerving. Thomas did not like the look in his eyes, as if
Myles envisioned Miss Hamilton in a rather unladylike way.

“Why ever not?
She will need a husband, and why not me? I would be doing you a favor taking
her off your hands. You need not spend your coin on her wardrobe and such frivolous
things a lady needs before she is introduced properly and fashionably into
society. I should marry her right off.”

Thomas breathed
in deeply and let it out slowly, trying to calm the unfamiliar rage throbbing
deep within his body, threatening to escape. If he didn’t control it, he would
find himself diving across the seat and beating his closest friend to a bloody
pulp.

All this over
his new ward. Thomas knew he should be grateful that Myles was considering
taking the chit off his hands without much ado. It would certainly save him
time, money, and no doubt many headaches caused by dealing with her.

“She is too
young for marriage now. Maybe a year or two, or even three will be soon enough
to find a suitable husband for her. If you are still willing then, I’ll
consider it. Although she might not meet with your family’s approval, seeing as
she’s an American and all.”

“Humph,” Myles
snorted. “Insofar as I can picture, in that length of time, she will have you
wrapped around her little finger. You’ll never let her go. As for being an
American, well, someone ought to shake up the prudish debutantes and give them
competition.”

“H . . . her
finger,” Thomas stuttered, stuck on something Myles said. Even though Myles
continued to ramble, he’d caught nothing after ‘wrapped around her finger.’
“Have you lost your wits? No female will ever have the privilege of my undying
devotion. I would rather die than be one of those lovesick puppies following
behind the skirts of their wives, hoping a morsel or a kind word will be thrown
at them.” Thomas growled deep down in his throat. “Those husbands are an
embarrassment to the male populace and should be locked inside their homes,
never to be seen in public.”

“How odd,”
Myles grinned, “that you would compare being wrapped around Miss Hamilton’s
finger to being married to her.”