Emily tilted her chin up, her lips parting. His fingers slid over the line of her jaw, a tantalizing tickle.
Suddenly, they heard footsteps outside.
The duke sprang back, leaving Emily reeling and red-faced, feeling as flustered and unbuttoned as if she’d been caught undressed.
Don’t think about being undressed now, you fool!
The footsteps passed by, along with quiet voices engaged in conversation. They were not genteel accents, so the passers-by were most likely footmen—at least a pair of servants.
Emily suddenly felt very cold, her hands shaking. She glanced up to find the Duke standing before her again, the book held out in his hand. His face was impassive, unreadable. She knew that she was red as beets, the flush spreading down her neck and probably to other places, too, and yethelooked as cool and composed as if they’d done nothing more than discuss literature.
“You should not be in here with me,” he said shortly. “Our absence will soon be noticed. There’s no need to make the scandal worse. From tomorrow, you will have four nights to think over my proposition, Miss Belmont. Use the time wisely.”
Emily eyed the book in something of a daze. “I beg your pardon. Are you… are youdismissingme?”
The smile inched over his face again. “Would you like to stay?”
Yes. No! I don’t know.
She snatched the book, holding it to her chest. “Of course not,” she muttered, hopefully sounding outraged enough to convince him, and scurried off to the door.
Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, Emily glanced over her shoulder. To her shock, the duke had taken the seat she had vacated and had propped his feet up on a low footstool. He arched his eyebrows questioningly at her.
“This book,” she ventured. “I heard that it’s about a man who creates a monster. Is that true?”
The duke took a moment to consider. “The story is about a man and a monster, to be sure,” he answered slowly. “Whether the monster is the creator or the creation, I shall let you decide. Which is the monster and which is the man, Miss Belmont? Let us see if you can work it out.”
CHAPTER11
Four Nights To Her Decision
“Emily?Emily! For heaven’s sake, girl, pay attention!”
Emily flinched, jerked out of a reverie. She lifted her chin from the palm of her hand and blinked incredulously at her mother.
Octavia sat at the head of the breakfast table, narrowing her eyes at her daughter.
“I’m sorry, Mama, were you speaking to me?”
Octavia sighed. “Yes, I was, but I can see that you did not hear a word of it. Once, there was nothing but chatter at this table, when your sisters were home. I forgot how given you are to reflection.”
Emily flinched. “I am sorry to be so disappointing, Mama.”
Octavia paused, her knife and fork poised above her breakfast kipper.
“Well, I never meantthat, darling! I only meant that Daphne and Anna were very talkative, and you are not. I did not mean to be hurtful, my dear, but I can see how you might have thought it. I apologize; I shall be more careful with my words in the future.”
Flushing, Emily glanced down at her own breakfast plate. She’d filled it thoughtlessly with now-cold scrambled eggs, slices of bread, bacon, and even part of a kipper her mother had pressured her to take.
She didn’t want to eat any of it.
“I don’t mean to be so prickly, Mama,” she murmured. “I slept badly, you see.”
That was something of an understatement. Generally, Emily collapsed into bed after the long and exhausting Society parties, sleeping deeply until their habitual late breakfast the next day.
Last night had been… different. She’d lain awake for hours, tossing and turning, desire pulsing through her. It was almost like hunger, a bodily ache that refused to recede until her needs were met. In this case, however, Emily was not entirely sure what it was that she needed.
She’d played the scene in the library over and over in her head. Often, she found her fingers inching up towards her mouth, as if she might still taste the duke’s kiss there. It was infuriating and baffling. What was a woman meant to do? How could the feelings be stopped?