Page 7 of Duke of Seduction

Ambrose shook his head in disbelief.

“Ezra as a father. Can you believe it?” he asked.

“It is hard to accept,” Morgan agreed, “but I am happy for him and Lydia both. Lydia will be a brilliant mother, and Ezra — well, you see the way he dotes on her. He will be excellent at whatever she tells him to do.”

Ambrose chuckled.

“I am well aware of the party, Morgan,” Ambrose replied. “Barbara and Helena have both peppered me with their frequent reminders. Now, tell me truthfully why you are here. You do not expect me to believe that is the sole reason for your visit?”

It was not, but Morgan could not tell him that. He had come to determine whether or not Ambrose was aware of Helena’s midnight escape into the dark underbelly of London’s debauchery. However, judging from his laidback demeanor, it was clear that he was not.

Part of him wanted to tell Ambrose what he had seen, to warn him of Helena’s desire to find passion before Ambrose married her off, but as he thought of the way his mind and body had responded to her, he found himself unwilling and unable to speak the words.

“You caught me,” Morgan said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I simply came because I was out on a stroll and my legs grew weary from the brisk air. I came to warm myself by your hearth, maybe even plead a drink from an old friend.”

“My hearth and liquor are yours,” Ambrose replied.

He waved a hand towards the fireplace, then walked to his drink cart to pour them both a glass.

“Let us drink port, though,” he insisted, handing Morgan a glass. “Whiskey in the morning is only for the bad days, and as you suggested earlier, the day is not bad.”

The sweetness of the alcohol burned Morgan’s tongue as he swallowed it whole. His groin stirred as he thought of the way Helena had obeyed him the previous evening when she drank the sweet red wine from his lips. He needed something bitter; something harsh, to chase the memory away. Port would not do.

“Stay a while,” Ambrose offered as Morgan handed the empty glass back to him. “Perhaps we can have a row in the ring? It has been a while since either of us have practiced.”

“Another time,” Morgan promised, suddenly needing to put space between them. “I do not wish to tarry long. I have a meeting at noon with a new investor. I only wished to offer you a good morning and steal some heat. Now that I have accomplished both, I must be on my way.”

To Morgan’s relief, Ambrose nodded his head and did not press the matter further. If there was one thing they could all agree on, it was that a business could not run itself.

“I shall see myself out,” he noted, clapping Ambrose on the shoulder as he passed him.

“Come by the gaming hell this evening,” Ambrose offered. “Our blackjack table misses you.”

Morgan chuckled, told him he would be there, and left the study. He did not make it more than a few steps before he felt someone grab him by the neck of his jacket and haul him backward into another room.

“For one so tiny you are rather strong,” he quipped, turning around to see Helena as she shut the door to the library behind them.

Disappointment and relief battled one another as he took her in. She was once again attired in one of her pink dresses; a deep, reddish-purple design lined with a white fur collar and cuffs. Helena had always been drawn to such colors and they suited her well, but he suddenly imagined her in the black dress from the night before, and his smile dropped as he rubbed his face in an effort to dispel the memory.

“What did you tell him?” Helena demanded, her voice coming out in a harsh whisper.

“That you are a wicked, wicked girl, who needs to be put over a knee,” he retorted sarcastically, raising a mocking brow.

She huffed and swatted at his shoulder again with much more force than her form suggested, and damn him if he did not like it.

“You are not humorous!”

“Neither are you,” he replied, his tone now serious. “That little prank you concocted last night was irresponsible and downright idiotic.”

Helena’s blue eyes glittered with defiance as she straightened her shoulders and tilted her chin up to look at him.

“It wasnota prank,” she said stoically, “And I will be returning. This time, you will not stop me.”

“The hell you will,” he seethed, rare temper making a show as he stepped towards her.

“I told you last night that those parties are not for you. You have no idea what sort of trouble you could end up in, and I will not allow my best friend’s little sister to find herself in such a state!”

Helena cocked a brow as she crossed her arms and delivered a smirk that indicated danger.

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