Page 43 of His Tempting Duchess

“I don’t want to create an issue out of nothing,” he said, at last. “Margaret can be… well, she can be a little paranoid. If she’s afraid I will shirk my duty to Frances, then only time and my good conduct will disabuse her of that notion. I shall let my actions speak for themselves.”

As he spoke, his gaze flitted to the heavy grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It was barely half past twelve. He had nearly twelve hours to go before he could see Miss Belmont again.

That brought up another worrying question—would she even be waiting for him?

It was a real possibility that Cassian would arrive on the rain-washed streets that night and find nobody waiting for him. He might find out that Miss Belmont was inside, safely tucked up in bed and determined to ignore the roll of carriage wheels on the road outside. He might even find a furious Lady St. Maur waiting for him.

And then what? Ignoring him would be the most proper thing for Miss Belmont to do, of course.

Lord, I pray that she waits for me,he thought with a shiver. That shiver was a little too close to being out of control, and he cleared his throat, glancing at the clock again.

Two minutes later than the last time he looked. Wonderful.

“But surely a little call wouldn’t do any harm?” Richard tried again.

It took Cassian a moment to recall what they were speaking of.

“Margaret will be fine,” he said firmly, “and so will Frances.”

“But—”

“Let me handle this, Richard. I know what I am doing.”

Richard sighed, clearly disagreeing, but he dropped the subject.

Cassian picked up his brandy glass and glanced at the clock one more time.

Heavens, how time can drag.

CHAPTER14

“You haven’t touched your soup, Emily.”

Emily glanced over at her mother, and then down at the large bowl of steaming pea soup waiting for her.

“I’m not sure I’m hungry,” she answered.

She had been thinking about the approaching deadline, and how this night marked three nights until she must give the duke an answer. Even the thought made her shiver.

Octavia sighed. “Well, I shan’t insist that you eat, but I hope you are not starving yourself in order to attain the willowy waist that fashion dictates this Season. It is not healthy.”

“Of course not, Mama.”

Octavia narrowed her eyes at her daughter, leaning back in her chair.

Just the two of them had sat down to dinner tonight. Outside, the rain was coming down heavier than ever, raindrops glittering on the windowpane against the darkness.

“Don’t you think it’s strange,” Emily heard herself saying, “that we once had to scrape together pennies to buy fish at the market, and now we can afford for me to leave a whole bowlful of soup? We have four courses planned for tonight, don’t we?”

Octavia nodded, smiling faintly. “Yes, our fortunes have changed vastly. But don’t worry, I have not lost my frugal habits. I can’t stand to see food go to waste. I’m sure you know that the servants help themselves to whatever they like, and take it back to their families into the bargain, or give it to the poor. Our poverty taught me the value of food, at the very least. But what’s brought this on? You’re not usually so maudlin. You’ve been jumpy all day, fidgeting and walking around. What’s the matter? Is it Daphne? Are you concerned about her?”

Emily swallowed thickly. Shewasworried about Daphne—childbirth could be dangerous—but mostly, her thoughts were selfishly about herself.

Should I meet him tonight? No, no, of course I should not.

But what if I did?

She bit back a harsh laugh.

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