The normally joyful Duke of Tempest was obviously on holiday. Replaced with the raging and angry Duke of Tempest who managed to scowl and yell at his best friend over something that wasn’t his business to be discussing.
To make matters worse, as punishment, Nicholas told—not asked, told—Sebastian he was to pick Miss Gates up promptly at eight for her first ball.
It didn’t help matters that in his mind he had already seduced her repeatedly.
By nightfall he had raised his voice at his valet, accidently tripped over a stray dog, and bruised his right knee after slamming his large frame into the carriage door.
Thoughts of Miss Gates ran rampant through his mind. A long night full of shrieking young misses and advantageous mamas was ahead of him. And the worst of it all was the very idea he had to escort Miss Gates and pretend not to be staring at her bee-stung lips. Donning black and white evening attire, he took one last look at himself and gathered his gloves.
Earlier in the day, to his utter dismay given the circumstances, he had brought most of his clothes and belongings to Renwick House. Staying under the same roof of Miss Gates guaranteed him one of the longest seasons of his existence. His only prayer was either she beat him to the altar or Nicholas miraculously find him a proper wife, and find her soon.
He glanced at the clock and swore; it was a minute past eight. He had tried his best to stay in his room until the time came for him to escort the girl. He steeled himself against the lust and anger shooting through his body and reached for his hat. Surely she couldn’t be any lovelier than early today.
Since returning to Renwick House, it seemed the only thing he could think about was Miss Gates and the location of her bedroom. As he walked down the hall, he began preparing himself for her appearance.
He waited at the bottom of the stairs, restlessly twirling his hat in his fingers. A door slammed in the distance and moments later Miss Gates descended the marble staircase. Delicate hands smoothly traced the cherry wood railing. Gaining enough curiosity, he looked at the rest of her and accidently cursed out loud.
Dresses should be outlawed. In fact, it would please him greatly if any woman of at least above average beauty revolted against modern fashion and decided to wear giant loose fitting dresses. Dresses that covered more than hugged. Noticing the sway of her hips as the material seemed to cling and then dance next to her thighs, his eyes swept upward, his only saving grace was that the thick shawl seemed to cover the more appealing parts of her body. He mouthed a prayer of thanks and smiled as she took his outstretched hand and dipped in a low curtsy.
“Why, Miss Gates, you look positively ravishing.” Teeth clenched, he managed to only get out one sentence before gaping again at the cut of her gown. His height gave him the advantage as his eyes scanned beneath the opening of her shawl.
“It’s not for your benefit, so stop staring,” she retorted with a smirk. “I’m supposed to be husband hunting, remember?”
Brazen hoyden! Did it matter that he was staring when every other man in attendance would be doing the same? What prim and proper girl said such things? And to a duke no less! Nicholas needed to keep a closer watch on this girl, if he desired for her to last more than a week without being led out into Vauxhill gardens by the first rake who took a liking to her charms.
Blind fury took over as he clenched her outstretched hand. It irritated him that such a tiny flippant comment would even upset him. Pasting the coolness on his face years of breeding had taught him, he whispered into her ear, “How could I so easily forget my place? Apologies.”
Emma’s eyes squinted at him before she turned and waited for the door to be opened. The ducal carriage was waiting just outside to take them to the ball. Sebastian watched in fascination, it seemed everything she did was graceful. He found himself watching every move as if trying to decipher why the woman had so much fluidity in her motions.
Sebastian heard Nicholas and Sara approach, both of them giving final instructions to the nanny before they left, as well as consequences for Duncan if he again tried to sneak out.
Poor Duncan was back from boarding school and none too pleased to have to stay home while the adults had all the fun. He was also positively smitten with Miss Gates, not that Sebastian blamed the youngster. Then again he was eight by now, so his loyalty was easily swayed. Miss Gates had complimented Samuel on training his dog all by himself. After commending him, he was convinced she was the best thing that had happened all year.
Once everyone was snug in the carriage, he hit the top and they were off. The silence was a welcome distraction from the perfume he could smell wafting from Miss Gates. Sitting by her had been the obvious choice. Now he regretted it.
Sara cleared her throat, demanding attention. “Now would be an excellent time for both of you to explain why you felt the need to yell at one another this afternoon over a silly little misconception at the park.”
Miss Gates’ eyes widened. Sebastian shook his head. Obviously she had no idea he was grounded from riding because of Samuel, not her.
“He’s being an arrogant and ungrateful cad,” Nicholas interjected, crossing his arms.
“And he’s being stubborn and pig-headed!” Sebastian bellowed. He never bellowed.
Where was the whiskey again?
Sara threw up her arms in exasperation. “You men have been friends for years. Even I can’t say I’ve known my husband that long. Whatever it is that has both of your feathers ruffled—deal with it. Or I shan’t speak to you ever again.”
Her eyes were on Sebastian as she made the threat, then she turned and acknowledged her husband. “As for you…You may find a different place to sleep tonight. I’m sure Samuel left remnants of jelly on his bed.”
“My apologies for our earlier spat, Seb!” Nicholas shouted nearly taking the roof off with his volume. Obviously he had been spending too much time with his mother-in-law Lady Fenton, whose loudness trumped in comparison.
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Accepted. I too apologize for giving advice that wasn’t mine to give, just don’t be so hard on the little boy. He only acts like his father.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Nicholas huffed. Sara grabbed his hand and kissed it.
“Was that so hard, my love?”
Nicholas immediately softened and kissed his wife firmly across the mouth.
Miss Gates looked away and sighed, bringing Sebastian’s attention back to the curve of her mouth.
Who was this girl?
Her hair was adorned with several tiny crystals making the shots of red shimmer. Vixen. That would be the only word to describe her. He had to avoid her at all costs, lest he compromise her and force her into a marriage neither of them wanted.
Chapter Five
Emma sighed longingly out the window of the traveling carriage. She took great pains to keep her emotions inside, trying to always laugh and live the adventurous life she knew she deserved. Yet at times she couldn’t help the sadness that crept up in moments of tenderness. What Nicholas and Sara had was beautiful.
She was envious because the love they shared would never be hers.
For a moment she was alarmed that they had caught wind of her and the duke’s argument in the park. His swift nod told her otherwise.
Shocking how one little word can destroy a person.
“Damaged” was how he had put it.
Unfortunately it defined her life and her future perfectly. It was the one word her father had used repeatedly when describing the incident to the rest of the family.
And the word her betrothed had spat under his breath when he explained to her father why their marriage contract was officially annulled. Rumors had run rampant throughout their country estate. Her only saving grace was that somehow her father had paid off enough of the servants. The ton hadn’t caught wind of her scandal. God willing, they never would.
Thoughts of her betrothed and her ruination always stole her confidence and lust for life, never mind that men often took wom
en of ill repute to their beds. Apparently a woman of good breeding who only appeared to have met with a man privately was more dirty and less clean than even the most wicked of prostitutes. It hadn’t helped that the day after the incident, her sister had announced to her already furious parents Emma had been sneaking out at night and dancing with the gypsies. It was the final nail in her social coffin, sealing her fate as the daughter who’d let the great Gates family down.
Just keep it inside, she chanted as the air in the carriage seemed to thin by the second. Finally they came to a stop answering her silent plea. Rising to get out, she took a shaky breath. Just a little further and she would have fresh air. Her eyes blurred until she only saw a look of concern in the duke’s eyes, and then things went completely black as her knees gave way.
****
“Emma.” The voice sounded thick and hazy.
Suddenly her eyes fluttered open. Apparently she had fainted.
This is where letting your emotions fly uninhibited gets you. Flat on your back in the middle of a carriage with the most eligible duke of the realm staring down at you as if you’d tossed your brain outside with the bath water.
“I must have…” She shook her head, then realized the duke wasn’t actually looking down at her, he was holding her.
Was it so wrong to enjoy the feel of his hands on her face as he looked in her eyes with concern? It was an obvious brotherly concern, but still, a girl could dream.
“Emma,” he said again.
Wasn’t he most improper, calling her by her Christian name? Something warm and tingly squeezed her heart, and in that moment, she knew he could call her anything he desired, as long as he didn’t let her go.
And then his hands moved across her neck, examining to see if she had hit anything during her tumble.
“We should go inside, but we can wait until you are ready.”
“What happened?” Slowly she looked around the carriage and noticed it was empty.
Tempest lifted her onto the seat and placed her skirts around her ankles for propriety’s sake. “When the door opened Nicholas and Sara took their leave. I turned around to ask you if you needed assistance down, and as you rose, you fainted. Are you normally this—”
“Weak?” she finished. “No, your grace. I’m sorry for any trouble I might have caused you. I assure you, I’m fine.”
Apparently keeping her thoughts and emotions inside had caused her to faint.
****
Emma flashed him a brilliant smile and leapt from the carriage. He followed suit and offered his arm as they entered the ballroom.
A resounding hush descended soon after they were announced. What in the blazes? Confusion set him to look at the faces of those around him. All eyes were trained on the lady next to him. He looked down.
Her shawl was off.
Alarms went off in his head. Devil take it, her shawl wasn’t on her body.
Her dress was…well, originally he had only seen parts and he had been ready to rip it off of her.
Now—well now he felt like he was naked instead of her. The dress wasn’t scandalous. It was…without compare.
And absolutely magnificent.
The fabric wound tightly around her chest then seemed to get looser as it neared the floor. A small train attached to the back boasted of several different shades of white that eventually met in the middle at the bodice. The gown was completely off her shoulders, leaving creamy soft skin in its place.
Curse her modiste.
Pasting a smile on his face, he closed his eyes and took three calming breaths. He was the Duke of Tempest. He could escort her without tripping over himself. And surely he could keep his hands firmly placed by his sides, the only other option being ripping her bodice completely off her body sealing both of their fates. Replacing the worry and, to his great irritation, lust on his face with one of his usual smiles, he urged Emma forward.
“Ah, and this is our lovely hostess for the evening, Lady Walters.” He kissed her hand then asked, “How does your daughter fair this evening, my lady?”
Lady Walters was still staring openly at Emma but managed to snap out of her rude gawking when she heard the mention of her own daughter.
“Oh, your grace, I didn’t think you’d remember!” She swatted him playfully with her fan and chuckled again. “She’s fine, out exploring in France, I’m afraid. She’ll be sad to have missed you.”
“Pity.” He shook his head longingly. “I should have liked to discuss her recent art work. Does she have anymore I could take off her hands, by chance?”
Lady Walters beamed. “His grace is too kind. Yes, I will have it sent to you straight away.”
“Excellent. Shall we?” He turned toward Emma and grasped her gloved hand again.
****
Each time they stopped by another couple, Emma felt more and more at ease. Her original assumption of the duke’s character was sound. He was an angel. Albeit a fallen-looking one. Nonetheless he treated everyone with respect and in return he was adored.
Her stomach did a tiny flip-flop as she noticed him pick up a tiny girl and swing her in his arms.
“Your grace! Your grace!” she squealed, throwing her head back. “Again!”
Her mother stepped forward. “I’m sure his grace has many more things to get to tonight, Laura.” The girl pouted then pulled Sebastian’s face down to hers and kissed it.
Was that envy Emma felt in the pit of her stomach or something much worse? Flares of attraction continued to invade her as she looked for the quickest escape route. The man was charming, attractive, and sinfully charismatic. She needed to get away and fast, before she started begging like Laura.
“Dance with me,” he said next to her.
She had just turned to walk away from him. But it was too late. Now she was caught. Her chest tightened. Oh, how she wanted to dance. She hadn’t danced since the incident, unable to bring herself to relive it again. Best she keep the desire and memories locked away forever then deal with what had happened so long ago.
“I do not dance, your grace.”
Breaking free of his hand, she quickly moved through the crowd. Spying her prey by the refreshment table, a smile formed on her lips.
“Sara!”
Her cousin whirled around. “Goodness, Emma, you gave me a fright. Where’s Sebastian.”
A masculine laughter shook behind her. “Oh, preying on young women as usual. Only this one managed to run away from me without an explanation of why she rejected my offer to dance.”
Sara’s punch shook in her hand as she struggled for composure. “You see, your grace, Emma hasn’t yet been introduced to Lady Fenton, it has been years since they have seen one another.”
“That’s right!” Emma cut in. “I hope she won’t be put out that I have waited this long to say hello. Of course you understand, don’t you your grace? One simply cannot greet family members when in Town.” She winked and again walked off, leaving a confused duke behind.
That was close, she thought then promptly bumped into a man.
“I’m so sorry, my lord.” She met his eyes and froze.
It was like looking into the face of a predator. A large, menacing predator. The air whooshed out of her lungs in one fast heave. Staring back at her was Lord Phillip Rawlings, the sole heir of the deceased Lord Rawlings and the only other person besides Emma’s family who knew of the incident that had happened so long ago.
Memories of that night came flooding back. Rawlings had torn the marriage contract in half, and with it every last shred of hope Emma had left. He was a few years older than Emma and had been not only her friend, but her future husband. But that was before the incident. Afterwards, his father had told him he could never pursue someone with such a soiled reputation or wanton ideas. Emma hadn’t cared much for marriage at the time. After all, she was still so young, as was Rawlings. But the devastation that a once loyal friend would also turn on her had been heartbreaking.
Breathtakingly handsome,
his whole attitude toward her downfall had been rather selfish. Never once did he ask for her side or care to hear it. The day after she’d been ruined, he took off for London, but not before publicly denouncing their association and friendship.
Rawlings’ reputation was anything but spotless. Last she heard, he had been after Sara himself before Nicholas beat him to it. Yet another reason Emma envied men. They had no consequences for their actions. Rakes were to be praised, yet if a woman was caught in a compromising position, she was thrown out without a trial, with nothing except the job of picking up the broken pieces.
No, the only thing men worried about was money. Something Rawlings definitely had loads of, unless he had gambled away his entire fortune, which was highly unlikely.
“Ah, Miss Gates, it has been a long time, hasn’t it? Might I say you look positively delightful.” Lord Rawlings bowed over her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. The touch of his lips threatened to send her into hysterics. Rawlings had the power to destroy her with one word. The gentry had no idea the real story or her background. Her parents, with the help of the Rawlings family, had spun a tale about her wanting to spend time with her ailing grandmother before having a season. Never mind that her grandmother was as healthy as an ox.
Playing calm, her lips managed a smile, though speech would be impossible, given her inability to string any sort of thought together.
“Allow me to introduce my half brother John.”
Emma’s eyes fluttered to the man on Rawlings’ left. There was something vaguely familiar about his large hands and square nose. His eyes held no brightness. Naturally a woman interested in predatory men would find him handsome. Emma found him frightening and not at all safe. In fact both men seemed like they were spawns of the devil himself. Rawlings had changed, and not for the better. His gaze rested again on Emma. It seemed he wanted to say something, when he suddenly froze and, in place of his smile, a cool mask of indifference formed across his face.