Page 9 of His Tempting Duchess

“Hush. Let’s keep it up, just in case.”

Octavia ushered her daughter out of the church and into the fresh air, and hastily across to the carriage. They crawled inside, and Emily flopped bonelessly onto the seat.

“Anna and Theodore have started the search for Daphne,” Octavia explained bluntly. “We’re going back home in case she goes there. In the meantime, you can explain to me why you are doing all of this. What hold does this man have over you? What can he reveal?”

Emily closed her eyes. “Mama, I can’t… I can’t tell you.”

Octavia pursed her lips, shifting in her seat. “I am your mother, and I would like to know what this secret is. I have never pried into your life or your sisters’, but are we not family, Emily? Do I not deserve to know?”

Emily breathed out slowly, before opening her eyes and meeting her mother’s gaze.

“It will be easier, I think, if I just show you,” she murmured.

Octavia frowned. “I don’t understand.”

At that moment, the carriage drew to a halt in front of the house. Emily scrambled out, hurrying across the gravel. She was faintly aware of her mother calling after her, following close behind.

The drawing room was cold and empty, with no fire in the grate. Emily crossed the room to the writing desk that she used every morning, kept locked with the key tucked underneath the drawer. Before she could give herself a chance to think twice, she unlocked the drawer and took out her sketchbook. She flipped directly to the drawing at the very back, the first sketch of her most famous piece now on display in a London gallery.

Turning to her mother, she held up the sketchbook.

“I know I have never really shown you my work,” she murmured, “and this is why.”

Octavia stared at the sketch. “Why, Emily, that isn’t your work at all. It’s that painting that the Society papers keep talking about. It’s…” she trailed off, her eyes bulging. “Oh.Oh.”

“Yes, Mama,” Emily whispered. “I… I’m Anon. I’ve been selling my paintings.”

Octavia sank onto an armchair. “If this was found out,” she managed at last, gulping audibly, “you’d be ruined. A lady painting such things? Oh, Emily. Who else knows about this?”

“Well, Daff knows, of course. And…” Emily steeled herself. “The Duke of Clapton knows. He knows, and if I don’t agree to marry him, he’s going to expose me.”

Octavia sank back in her seat, looking rather dazed.

“Oh dear,” she murmured. “And to think I always thought you were the quiet one.”

CHAPTER4

TWO MONTHS LATER

Emily stood on her tiptoes, trying in vain to crane her neck over the crowd.

This would be the first time in longer than she could remember that it had been just her and Daphne.

Since the fateful day of her failed marriage ceremony, things had become ratherinterestingfor Daphne. Her panicked dash from the church had led her straight into the arms of the Duke of Thornbridge, a famous recluse who had retreated from Society after the death of his first wife. Then, in a twist that made Society reel, she had married him.

Emily was not sure she would have done the same thing, but then she and her sister were entirely different people. Besides, Daphnedidseem happy, rocky though the business had been at first.

I’m glad she was rescued. She deserved it, after trying to save me.

Abruptly, a blocky black carriage lurched through the crowded London streets. People moved respectfully out of the way of the high-stepping horses, gawking at the crest on the side as it moved by. Emily beamed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

The carriage drew to a graceful halt in front of her, and a liveried footman leaped nimbly down to open the door.

Muffled curses came from within, and a red-faced vision in green silk began to maneuver her wide skirts through the doorway.

“Ouch. Oww, my heel! Never mind, James. I can get myself out. I’ll just… argh! There.”

With an undignified lurch, Daphne stumbled out of the carriage and beamed at her sister.

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