The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga) (8 page)

Thomas laughed.
“You need help? What could you possibly need help with? I’m the one saddled
with an American chit who enamored my brother in mere seconds. Just what I need
is scandal under my own roof. I’m going to have to conduct nightly bed checks.”

Both his
friends burst out laughing, and Thomas narrowed his eyes. “Laugh all you want.
Someday I’ll be laughing at the two of you.”

Myles cleared
his throat. “Seems you won’t have to wait long. While you and I were
gallivanting around America, our good friend, Amesbury here, got himself
betrothed.”

“You what?”
Thomas blurted out as he leaned forward in his chair. “No, wait. Don’t tell me
you fell for the oldest trick in the book. You got some shy, silly, innocent
debutante alone in some desolate garden and caused a scandal? Forgive me, but
how is that possible if the Season has not even begun?”

Amesbury leaned
forward and growled at Thomas, actually growled. “No. It wasn’t a garden; we
were out on a veranda. And it was last season. On the night you two supposed
friends of mine deserted me. Remember?” He raked his hands through his hair.
“Bloody bugger, I don’t know what came over me. One minute I was looking into
her amber eyes, and the next thing I knew my lips were upon hers. And if that
was not bad enough, when I pulled back, I blurted out the question. And she
said ‘yes.’ Just like that. What am I going to do? I don’t want to marry her.
We have been betrothed for nearly a year. Time is running out for me.”

“Will somebody
tell me who she is?” Thomas demanded, his tone laced with humor.

Myles, who’d
been listening, started chuckling until he laughed so hard his shoulders shook
and his eyes watered. When Amesbury gave Myles a scathing look, Myles stopped
laughing. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make fun. It’s just that, bloody hell, it
scares me that it could have happened to any one of us. That being said,
Wentworth, do you remember the season before last, there was this
exquisite-looking debutante who was so shy she stuttered whenever a gentleman
approached her? That or she blushed from the top of her head down to the swell
of her breasts.”

Myles paused
until Thomas nudged him on. “So, do tell. You just described any number of
females.”

“Enough, enough,
it is Lady Beth,” Amesbury spewed out.

“Ahhh,” Thomas
smiled. “If you had said Lady Elizabeth, I would have asked ‘Elizabeth who?’
But Lady Beth, well . . . that explains it. She has always favored you.”

Amesbury looked
positively ill.

Thomas signaled
for more drink. It was good for him to worry about Amesbury’s problem instead
of his own. As he focused on his friend, his mind instantly cleared of the fog
plaguing him; his heart beat lighter and the brick lifted off his chest. He
breathed in deeply. “She is a lovely girl, if I recall.”

“Yes, well...”
Amesbury downed his drink in one swill. “She is. She is also ten and nine and
pure.” He leaned closer to his friends and whispered. “It may come as a shock
to you both, but I have never deflowered an innocent. The only sexual
encounters I have ever had I paid for. What the deuce do I know about a virgin
and her needs?”

Thomas almost
felt sorry for his friend. “We will all face that dilemma eventually, unless
one of us marries a widow or a light skirt of good breeding. When are the happy
nuptials to take place?”

Amesbury
groaned. “In four months. Please help me get out of this. I am desperate.”

Thomas glanced
at Myles, who, unlike his usual smirking self, actually looked sad about his
friend’s predicament. Obviously the disclosure had turned his mind to his
French lady back in New Orleans. What a trio they made. One friend pined over a
married lady an ocean away, another tried to shuck his responsibility to marry
a perfectly acceptable young lady, and, he, a duke, was forced to deal with
Miss Hamilton––an innocent he lusted after on a daily basis.

“You know what
I think, Amesbury?” Thomas began. “I think Lady Beth is an exceptional choice
for a bride, and you should resign yourself to your fate.”

“Easy for you
to say. You’re not going to be leg-shackled in four months’ time,” Amesbury
said as he frowned at the empty glass in his hand.

“Indeed I’m
not. But you could think of yourself as lucky because Myles and I still have to
find a bride amongst the debutantes that are left.” Thomas picked up his glass
in a salute. “You have chosen the diamond among lesser gems.”

“Here, here,”
Myles added.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

Emma had just
changed into her night rail when Amelia and Bella burst through her bedchamber
door. Both were dressed in long, flowing white robes, and both plopped down on
her bed without asking. She could get used to this closeness with them. They
reminded her of Amy and Penelope, on the other side of the ocean. She swallowed
a lump in her throat. She missed her friends.

Still, hadn’t
she always wondered what it would have been like to have a sister? She had the
feeling she was about to find out.

“Well,” Amelia
smiled, “Bella and I want to hear everything about America.”

Emma laughed
with a lightheartedness she hadn’t felt in a long time, and she joined the two
sisters on her bed. “Like what?”

“Like what?”
Bella asked, her eyes wide as saucers. “Like everything and anything about
American men.”

“To tell you
the truth, I didn’t meet many. My father kept me protected from the outside
world.”

Bella looked
positively devastated. “You mean you never flirted with a gentleman or stole a
kiss in a dark corner?”

Amelia gasped.
“Bella, you have never done such things either.”

“I know,” Bella
agreed with dreamy eyes. “But by this time next week we will make our debut.”
She sighed and flopped back on the bed, her arms spread wide. “We will actually
have the chance to use our dancing skills
with gentlemen
. No more
partnering with females fighting over who will lead. We can use our fans to
flirt and send men scurrying toward the punch bowl, each one hoping to be the
first to return with our refreshments.”

“If you don’t
behave…” Amelia eyed her sister. “Thomas will send you home and pick your
husband himself.”

Bella sprang
up. “You are so right, sister.” She shuddered. “I’ll be the picture of a
perfect, meek debutante. I’ll only speak when spoken to and will look shy and
innocent behind my fan. And dance the waltz with the perfect arm’s length
between my partner and me. And I will never, ever leave the ballroom with a
gentleman––no matter how handsome and charming he is or how weak in the knees
he makes me.”

All three young
ladies sighed loudly. “Weak in the knees…” Amelia moaned. “Do you think that
really happens?”

Bella giggled.
“I hope so. I have read about it in gothic novels and in Lord Byron’s poems.
Not that he says it in those words exactly. But oh, I do hope it is true. To
meet a man who makes my heart pound… My hands itch to touch his naked flesh and
cause flames to burn in my loins.”

“Bella!” her
sister admonished. “You have been reading naughty things.”

“Oh, Bella, do
tell,” Emma requested shyly.

Bella smiled
coquettishly as she scooted up on her knees. “I found the most tantalizing book
in Sebastian’s room. It had illustrations and everything, although I’m not
quite sure how some of the positions worked. How one would bend like that.
There was one drawing of a naked man’s large pizzle.” Bella giggled. “It looked
rather strange standing up against his stomach, with large, round twin balls
hanging down below. A woman was stroking his manhood, and one drawing showed
her mouth kissing it.” Bella shivered. “Can you imagine anything so naughty? Do
you think that’s what ladybirds do when men visit them?”

Amelia blushed
deeply and murmured, “I don’t know.” Her eyes widened. “Are we expected to do
those things with our husbands? I, for one, cannot imagine anything so vulgar.”

“Do you suppose
some courtesan or mistress has done that to the duke?” Emma gasped and covered
her mouth with her hand, appalled at herself for suggesting such a thing.

“No,” both
sisters said in unison.

It was Bella
who explained. “Thomas––I like to call him that when he is not around, though
two years ago, when our father passed away, Thomas insisted we call him
Wentworth. Anyway, I doubt he has ever been intimate with a woman. Even before
Papa’s death and the scandal that followed, he was always dark and moody,
always worrying about this or that. Now his friends, Lords Amesbury and
Norwich…maybe they have such courtesans…” She turned to Emma, her eyes alight.
“You met Myles. What did you think of him?”

“He is nice and
sweet.” Emma giggled, enjoying herself much more than she thought she would. It
felt as though she had known Amelia and Bella forever. “He is a terrible flirt,
and the duke hates that. I found Myles enchanting, though I do think he is a
natural flirt and treats every lady the same way.”

“Oh,” Bella
said with a deep sigh. “I rather hoped it was just me he flirted with.”

“Bella,” Amelia
said, putting her arm around her sister. “I never realized you had feelings for
Myles. He would make an excellent choice as a husband. Have you told Thomas of
your interest?”

A look crossed
Bella’s face, making Emma think she had not discussed it with the duke.

 “I would never
tell our brother.” Bella gasped. “He would probably make Myles stay away.
Besides, did not Emma just say he flirted with her? I must have mistaken his
attentions toward me.”

Now Emma hugged
her. “I’m sorry. Quite possibly he does have feelings for you. I have not known
him nearly as long as you. What about this Lord Amesbury, the other friend of
the duke’s? Who is he?”

“Oh, Edward
Worthington, the Marquess of Amesbury,” Amelia said with a deep languid sigh.
“He is betrothed to Lady Beth since last season. They are to wed when this
season is over. Beth is as lovely as a porcelain doll, beautiful, delicate, and
shy. So very shy; I do not know what Amesbury was thinking when he proposed. I
can’t imagine she would ever touch his—”

All three of
them burst out laughing.

The noise
brought Her Grace into Emma’s room. “Amelia, Isabella, time to let Emma sleep.
She must be positively exhausted from her travels.” The dowager clapped her
hands. “Come, come; time for bed, girls.”

Sleep did not
come easily to Emma, though she was tired. Thoughts of her conversations with
Penelope from school, and with Amelia and Bella from that evening, brought to
mind images of men’s hard pizzles. Then her images changed and the duke
appeared standing in her bedchamber, naked with his pizzle pointing at her.

“Oh,” she
groaned as she rolled over onto her stomach. Emma should not think of His Grace
in such an indecent manner. He had never shown any interest in her. Actually,
he avoided her whenever he possibly could––as if she carried the plague.

***

Sitting at her
dressing table waiting for Rosie to finish her elaborate hairstyle, Emma tried
to settle her nerves. Tonight she would be introduced into London Society at
the first ball of the season, to be held at the Duke and Duchess Caulfield’s.
Never in her wildest dreams had she thought this would ever happen––though her
papa had promised it would.

Her papa… Her
heart pained over the loss of him. She missed him terribly and hoped she made
him proud. Emma whispered a prayer. Tonight her life would change forever. She
would officially be on the block, at least
looking
for a future husband.
But unless she found the right one, she had other plans than marriage.

Her
expectations, the requirements for her future husband, were not many. He had to
be somewhat handsome. She could not imagine spending the rest of her life
staring at a face that repulsed her. However, the most important attribute she
insisted on was kindness. He must be kind as well as attractive. Emma could not
envision herself married to a moody, brooding man who expected everyone around
him to snap to attention at his every whim…

The duke, in
all his handsomeness and broody moods, flashed through her mind.

Obviously, he
would never do. Her stomach knotted up tight. “Please, God, don’t let me
embarrass myself tonight. And please keep me from dreaming about the duke.”

“Pardon me,
Miss Emma, did you say something?” Rosie asked this as she tucked white roses
into Emma’s upswept hair.

“Oh, no, Rosie;
I was thinking aloud.”

“Miss Emma, His
Grace gave me these for you.” Rosie held open a cream satin- lined box that
Emma recognized instantly as belonging to her mother. Inside the box rested her
mama’s pearl necklace and earrings that her papa had given Mama on their
wedding night. Once again, she knew the duke was responsible for this. She was
elated to have her mama’s precious pearls, but her stomach twitched with guilt
that she had not even thanked the duke for the portrait. Her manners were
appalling, and that must be addressed.

“Let me help
you up and stand you in front of the full-length mirror so you can get a good
look at yourself.”

At first Emma
was afraid to look, afraid of what she might see…or not see. She opened her
eyes a slit and then more, and more…until she stared wide-eyed in disbelief,
her hand at her throat.

“Oh, Rosie,
that cannot be me?”

Her maid
smiled. “Miss Emma, you will be the loveliest lady at the ball.”

“But Amelia and
Bella will be lovelier. I’m quite sure of it.”

“All three of
you will be the loveliest and the envy of all the other debutantes. And the
gentlemen will be tripping over each other, vying for your attentions.”

Emma forced
herself to study the vision in the mirror. Her high-waist, white satin ball
gown with its low, square neckline sparkled in the candle’s light. The wide
ribbon tied under her bosom accentuated the fullness of her breasts and was a
contrast to the seed pearls embroidered at the neckline. The dress cascaded
perfectly to the floor, just covering her white satin slippers. Emma fingered
her mama’s pearls.

Her coiffure
looked as though her blond hair would tumble down at any time, though Rosie had
secured it with numerous pins. The white miniature roses tucked into her hair
added to the allure. Where was the girl from Miss Beauregard’s Finishing
School? What she glimpsed, standing in the mirror, was a young lady worthy of
meeting her prince charming.

At the
appointed time, Emma joined Amelia and Bella at the top of the stairs. They
exclaimed over each other’s gowns and coiffures, then linked their gloved hands
and descended the sweeping staircase together.

Emma shivered
when she saw Thomas waiting at the bottom of the staircase with Sebastian and
his mother.

***

When Thomas
looked up his heart stopped. His two sisters looked beautiful and grown up, but
his eyes drank Emma in, and that sent heat pooling in his loins. Damn his
formal black tailcoat as it would not hide his lust from his mother if she
looked. It would not do to have his mother see him in such a state. She would
think him a degenerate of the vilest kind.

That worry was
forgotten when, with one look at his brother, Thomas knew Sebastian lusted
after Emma as well.

Bloody hell, he
so
did not want to negotiate a marriage between his brother and his ward.

Thomas promised
himself, right then and there, their mutual interest would never come to
fruition. Oh, it was terribly selfish of him, but how could he survive seeing
the two of them together, day after day, knowing he wanted what they shared
behind the closed doors to their bedchamber?

How could he
look at Emma’s flushed face every morning, knowing his brother was the cause of
her satisfied glow? Oh, yes, he was a selfish bastard. Thomas could not have
her, but his brother would not have her either.

His eyes moved
back to Emma, in her virginal white satin gown. She looked good enough to take
behind a large potted plant to plunder her mouth and cup her generous breasts
that swelled over the top of her chaste gown…
Damn it. Thomas, control
yourself.

Even in his
aroused state, Thomas bowed a perfectly turned out bow, complete with hand
sweep. “Ladies, you three are a vision. Every gentleman’s eyes will be upon you
this evening.”

All three
ladies curtsied in sequence.
Had they practiced that?
Sebastian nudged
Thomas aside and stepped toward his ward.

“Emma.” He
placed his right hand over his heart and bowed. “Be still, my heart. It beats
for you alone. May I?” He held out his arm.

Thomas felt a
low growl rise up his throat, and before he could stop it…it escaped, causing
all eyes to turn to him. His mother narrowed her eyes, searching for the cause.

“Excuse me;
stomach troubles.” He mumbled this through the hand covering his mouth––which
brought another inquisitive look from his mother.

Thomas
shrugged, held out his arm to his mother, and said, “Shall we?”

The others
might be ready––he was anything but. He didn’t lie when he said he had stomach
troubles. It did in fact toss, turn, and churn with a kind of pain. Too many
things worried him. One would think it was
his
first ball.

First
priority…he had to watch Emma, Amelia and Bella to make sure they never left
the ballroom alone with a gentleman. And then he and Sebastian had to pay
homage to all the mamas and keep themselves from being led astray by their
virginal daughters.

Easy––nothing
to it.

Yes, well,
tell that to my insides.

They arrived at
the Duke and Duchess Caulfield’s estate and found dozens of carriages already
waiting in the queue. Everyone’s livery colors were bright and crisp, as none
wanted to be outdone by another at the first ball of the season.

***

Thomas escorted
his mother and Emma inside the front entrance while Sebastian led Amelia and
Bella. As they ascended the grand staircase Emma tripped.

“Steady,” he
murmured into her ear. “You’re doing fine.”

“Am I?” Her
terrified blue eyes met his, and she lowered her gaze to her feet.

“Keep your chin
up, shoulders back. Remember your posture,” his mother spoke up. “And stop
looking as though you are going to the gallows. It is a ball. Enjoy yourself
while you are young and unmarried.”