Page 67 of A Widow for the Beastly Duke

“Your metaphors grow more ridiculous by the moment,” Victor observed dryly.

“Perhaps,” Nathaniel conceded with a grin. “But my observations remain remarkably accurate. Now, shall we return to our duties as gentlemen and ensure no further ‘accidents’ befall our guests? I suddenly find myself quite invested in the welfare of the Dennison-Cuthbert family.”

Victor nodded curtly, his thoughts already drifting back to Emma—to her passion and the way she’d come undone in his arms, to the delicious cry she’d unleashed, to her sudden panic and ensuing escape. He’d let her go tonight because… well, he still wasn’t quite sure what to do about his desire for her.

He was still torn between staying away and keeping propriety in mind, and fucking it all to go after her the way he truly wanted to.

It was true—he wanted Lady Cuthbert, and he could deny it no longer. And it was clear that she wanted him with just as equal fervor. But the dilemma remained: Was he really ready to give himself to her?

He was quite certain she was not the type to satisfy her carnal desires with no strings attached, and he wasn’t sure whether he could give her more than that… not after…

There were quite a lot of things he was not sure of, and there was just one more that was most baffling.

He wasn’t sure he could stay away from her any longer.

CHAPTER20

“My Lady, thank heavens you’ve come!” Joanna’s lady’s maid exclaimed, ushering Emma through the foyer of Dennison House with haste. “Miss Joanna has been inconsolable since returning from Lord Knightley’s ball! But she won’t say what’s wrong.”

Emma, pulse pounding in her throat, followed the maid up the grand staircase of her aunt’s house, her heart constricting at the thought of her distress.

Even though she’d long since left Knightley Hall, her mind was still in such a flurry of confused emotions. But she scarcely had the time to worry about her encounter with the Duke of Westmere at the moment.

Her aunt needed her now. Still, shame colored her concern as she tried to forget the very reason why she arrived so late.

“And how is she now, Fiona?” she asked as they reached the landing, forcing her mind back to the matter at hand.

The lady’s maid sighed. “Her Ladyship has gone quiet, but I fear the worst,” she replied, gesturing toward the double doors that led to Joanna’s rooms. “I wonder what sort of accident has ruined her gown so badly. And oh, how she’d been looking forward to wearing it?—”

“How severe was the damage to her gown?” Emma inquired, removing her gloves as she climbed, her anger resurging as she remembered Lady Harrington’s malicious attack back at the party.

The maid’s expression darkened. “The wine has utterly ruined the silk, My Lady.”

Emma clenched her teeth. But it was not merely the gown—it was the humiliation. Lady Harrington’s circle made certain the incident had been witnessed by half the ton.

They reached Joanna’s bedchamber, where Emma found her aunt crumpled before the fire, still in her ruined finery, tears carving dark paths through her powdered face.

Joanna looked up at Emma’s entrance, her expression momentarily brightening before crumpling once more.

“Oh, Emma,” she whispered, “you didn’t have to leave the party because of me!”

But Emma was shaking her head. “Do not say that, dear,” she said, rushing to sit beside the older woman. “How could I let you be alone after what happened?”

“Oh, how can I face anyone after—” Joanna began to say, but Emma interrupted her.

“Lady Harrington should be the one embarrassed, Joanna,” she said sternly. “Do not let her malicious actions get to you. I’ll definitely make her pay, even if it’s the last thing I do!”

At that declaration, her aunt’s face finally melted into something of a smile, before she sniffled and said, “Thank you so much, Emma. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

As she held her aunt, Emma’s mind couldn’t help but wander, returning a little too eagerly to her little tryst with the Duke in the garden. To the vulgar words he spoke and the way his touch sparked a flame?—

“No,” she said out loud.

She should not think about that right now. All that had been was a mistake. She had to think of it that way now, or else… she would go positively demented, she was sure of it.

So, she helped Joanna rise, gesturing for the maid to bring a nightgown. “Let us get you out of this gown first, then you’ll have a warm bath.”

Despite her resolve, however, unbidden images of Victor’s hands and mouth on her body flickered persistently through her consciousness. She had fled from him in a moment of panicked clarity, but now the memory of his touch remained branded on her skin like an invisible claim.

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