Page 57 of Trapped with her Cruel Duke

“I am glad to hear it,” she replied, glancing at Sybella, but her friend seemed too engrossed in her conversation with Charlotte to realize that she needed rescuing.

“Tell me,” Lord Emming asked smoothly, “how is marriage treating you? I imagine it iseverythingyou have wished for.”

His tone could not have made his meaning any clearer. Louise was disgusted by the suggestive heat in his gaze and found herself considering the ramifications if she were to break two noses in one year.

“I would not wish to speak for my wife,” came a welcome voice from behind her, “but I would say it is treating us both very well, indeed.”

Louise felt the tension leave her shoulders as Christian’s imposing figure appeared behind her. He did not touch her, but his body was so close to hers that she could feel his warmth against her back. She turned to him with a relieved smile, only to find the same furious expression on his face as he glared at Lord Emming.

As for Lord Emming, he had backed away several steps, and his smile was far less warm, his eyes fixed on Christian.

“I would expect nothing less,” he commented casually, as though he were a completely different person.

“I am sorry to steal her away from you, Lord Emming,” Christian said in a tone that suggested he was not sorry at all. “But I have someone I wish to introduce her to.”

He gave a hint of a bow before gently resting a hand on Louise’s back. They turned away from Charlotte and Sybella and made their way back across the room and toward the terrace.

“Thank you,” Louise said genuinely. “I was trying to find an excuse to get away from him.”

“The man is famous for his lascivious ways. Did he touch you?” Christian’s voice was dark and ominous as he asked the question.

Louise could not help but giggle as she glanced up at him. “You cannot possibly be jealous of Lord Emming, Christian,” she scoffed. “He is impossibly old.”

Christian said nothing, but his eyes were still scanning the room.

“Who was it you wished to introduce me to?” she asked curiously.

Christian’s shoulders relaxed at the question. “Do you remember the botanist I mentioned? He is here, which rather surprised me. He must have friends in high places. You have the chance to meet him tonight. He is outside, spending time in the gardens as we speak.”

They made their way through the milling crowds as another lively set began behind them. Louise longed to dance but was touched by the attention Christian paid to her study of plants.

The large glass doors were wide open, letting in a cool breeze from the gardens. It was a long space flanked by small pillars along the edges. There weren’t many people outside due to the chill in the air, but one man was leaning against the balustrade, staring out at the dark trees beyond.

Christian made for him, and Louise was shocked by how young he looked. He could not have been thirty, with a beard cut close to his face, wide brown eyes, and very pale blonde hair that looked almost white in the moonlight.

“Lord Fiorelli?”

The man turned around, his eyes narrowing as he realized he was no longer alone. He looked between them as though coming back to himself and then straightened.

“Your Grace,” he greeted with a low bow. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“May I introduce my wife, the Duchess of Egerton? She was most desirous to meet you, and she shares your love of plants.”

The man’s expression shifted immediately from faint politeness to genuine interest, and he bowed to Louise, which she answered with a curtsy.

“Is that so?” he asked. He had a strong Italian accent and bronzed skin a shade or so darker than Christian’s. “I have metmany ladies with refined tastes since I came to London. It is my pleasure to meet another.”

“My wife is writing an encyclopedia,” Christian cut in before Louise could speak. “It is something she has been working on for some time, and my dearest wish is that she can complete it as soon as possible.”

The inflection in his voice was not lost on her, and she fought back a blush, knowing full well why her finishing the book would be of benefit to him.

“Lord Fiorelli, it is wonderful to meet you,” she said swiftly. “My husband tells me you are a botanist?”

“Indeed, I am, Your Grace. I studied at the University of Bologna in Italy but traveled to England as soon as I was able. I have wanted to see your glorious English countryside since I was a boy. I study entomology also and am fascinated by the relationship between the Painted Lady butterfly and the common thistle.”

“Ah, how fascinating. The Asteraceaefamily and Painted Lady butterflies are mutually beneficial to one another, are they not? I read that the butterflies often use thistles and sunflowers to lay their eggs.”

“Exactly!”

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