Page 37 of A Duke to Steal Her
Emily tried hard to focus on Mr. Thornfield’s words. The calculated nature of his approach was masterful; dukes speaking of business, entirely proper, utterly unremarkable to any observer.
“Lady Emily?” Mr. Thornfield’s concerned voice broke through her distraction. “Are you unwell? You seem…”
“The heat,” she managed, forcing herself to focus on his kind face. “If you’ll excuse me, sir. I shall fetch myself some lemonade.”
Mr. Thornfield offered to get it for her, and she gratefully accepted. As he moved away, Emily devoted every fiber of her being to listening in on the conversation unfolding nearby.
“I should very much like to introduce you to my wife,” Vincent was saying, his tone warming slightly as business protocol demanded cordiality. “Juliana, my dear?”
Emily’s heart hammered against her ribs as Juliana glided forward, resplendent in deep blue silk, her ducal bearing unmistakable.
“Duke.” Juliana’s curtsy was flawless. “How delightful to meet you. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”
“The pleasure is entirely mine, Duchess.” Ambrose’s bow was equally refined, his voice carrying that honeyed warmth Emily remembered so well. “Your reputation for charitable work precedes you.”
“How kind,” Juliana replied as her eyes fell on Emily. “Oh, Emily!” she called out gently.
She approached with measured steps, her training at Wicklow Academy serving her well even as her pulse thundered in her ears. When she reached them, she executed a curtsy, her eyes never leaving his face.
“There you are, sister,” Juliana said and turned to the Duke of Nightfell. “May I present my sister, Lady Emily? Emily, this is the Duke of Nightfell.”
“Your Grace,” she said, her voice steady despite the chaos within. “An honor.”
“Lady Emily.” Her name on his lips was both caress and torment. He bowed over her gloved hand, not quite touching his lips to her knuckles, but close enough that she felt the warmth of his breath. “The honor is entirely mine.”
Their gazes held. The careful mask of polite society felt paper-thin between them, and she saw the depths in his eyes, how dark they had turned. How hungrily they took her in.
“My sister-in-law has only just recently recovered from an illness,” Vincent interjected smoothly, though Emily caught the warning edge in his voice. “She spent time in the countryside.”
“Indeed,” the Duke replied, straightening but not stepping back. “You appear to be in excellent health, my lady. The country air must have suited you.”
The innocent words carried layers of meaning that made Emily’s cheeks warm. “Most beneficial, Your Grace. Though it is lovely to return to the… stimulation of London society.”
Something dangerous flickered in his eyes at her choice of words. “How fascinating. I find country life has its own particular… rewards.”
Juliana’s sharp glance between them was warning enough for Emily not to speak further.
“Nightfell was inquiring about Mediterranean shipping routes,” Vincent said, his tone carefully neutral. “He’s quite the experienced traveler. Especially across the continent.”
“Such subjects are not suited to ladies like me,” Emily replied, her pulse racing at the game they were playing. “Though I understand such voyages can be quite transformative.”
“In my experience,” the Duke of Nightfell’s voice dropped to a lower register that made her knees weak, “the most worthwhile journeys often begin unexpectedly.”
Vincent raised his brows slightly. “Wise words, indeed.”
The Duke chuckled, “Those are the only wise ones you’ll hear from me, I’m afraid.”
Emily tilted her head. “I doubt you’re one for humility, Your Grace. Do share more of your wisdom with us.”
“Emily,” Juliana whispered towards her in shock, and Vincent glanced at the Duke warily.
The Duke of Nightfell’s smirk widened. He was enjoying the challenge.
There was a pause. The quartet launched into the opening strains of a quadrille.
Ask me to dance,she willed silently, her heart fluttering with barely contained nerves.Please.
His gaze dropped to her lips for the briefest moment before returning to her eyes. “Lady Emily, I wonder if you might?—”
