Page 15 of It's In The Duke's Kiss
Four
Lucian escorted his mother into the drawing room and all conversation ceased, but then a burst of laughter filled the silence. He followed the throaty laugh to Lady Emmaline, who sat on the sofa squashed between her mother and sister. The loveliest shade of rose colored her cheeks, and her cerulean eyes grew wide as her gaze locked with his. She gave a nervous laugh, high and unlike the one of seconds ago. He suddenly recalled her doing the same thing the day she’d arrived at his Mayfair home to tell Nathaniel she’dhad funwith him, despite the fact that his brother had almost gotten her killed. Apparently she laughed when she was nervous.
He found the quirk endearing, which surprised him. He’d always appreciated a poised woman who wasn’t prone to displaying her emotions for thetonto gossip about, rather like Lady Francine who stood, looking elegant and unaffected by their entrance, beside her father.
Lady Albersey tapped each of her daughters on the leg with her fan, and both ladies stood immediately, along with their parents. Lucian’s mother rushed forward, offering greetings, and Lucian found his attention drawn to Lady Emmaline once more. She had skin the shade of cream, lips the color of overripe berries, and her gaze was every bit as guileless as he remembered. That gaze had foolishly driven him to threaten to give Lady Peabody the cut direct if she dared to utter another ill word about Lady Emmaline.
“Blackbourne,” his mother cooed, reverting to his formal title in front of their guests, “I’m sure you recall the Earl of Albersey, his wife, and his daughters.”
He almost snorted. She knewwellhe recalled the woman he’d recently rescued. Lucian nodded and exchanged formal greetings with Albersey, who looked distracted as always, and then his wife and daughters. Lady Emmaline smiled, and dimples appeared on each cheek. He had the oddest desire to brush his finger over the lovely indentations or comb them through her thick hair. With it wet, he’d not gotten to feel how silky it must be, and his fingers practically tingled to test the strands now. How would her tresses feel against his bare chest? Desire flared hard within him.
“It’s a pleasure to see you dry,” he offered, then cringed at his slip. What the devil was the matter with him tonight?
His mother gave a tiny gasp and glared at him. He never misspoke or accidentally revealed inner thoughts.
“I do apologize. I didn’t mean—”
Emma didn’t know what the Duke of Blackbourne had intended with his comment about her state of being. Had he meant to shame her? Chide her? Emma notched her chin up. “Rest assured I’d never arrive at a dinner dripping wet.”
“You could arrive sopping and you’d still take my breath away.” Nathan appeared in the doorway with a tumbler in hand. “Sorry I’m late. I forgot my drink.” He raised the glass, eyed his brother in what appeared a hostile manner that made Emma frown, and gulped down the contents of his glass. He set it on a side table and strolled toward them with the self-assured strides that had often haunted her dreams. He stopped directly in front of her and beside his brother. The difference in the brothers’ appearances—and personalities—was starkly contrasted when they stood so close to each other.
Nathan possessed a blinding, golden beauty. His light-brown eyes shone with life and mischief. She smiled at him. “Thank you for your kind words.”
He winked, and she heard her mother gasp behind her. Nathan didn’t seem to notice as his gaze continued to hold hers. “If you knew me better you’d know I’m never kind, simply honest.”
“I beg your pardon?” her mother said with no small amount of shock.
Emma’s breath hitched. Heavens, what else might her mother say? She glanced at Nathan, hoping he’d quickly diffuse the situation, but he smiled with amusement, which sent an odd shaft of disappointment through her.
“He’s jesting, of course,” the Duke of Blackbourne said smoothly, and Emma could feel the tension drain out of her mother. Emma blew out a relieved breath and met the duke’s gaze. She blinked in surprise at the compassion she thought she saw there, but his lashes lowered and veiled his eyes. Yet the brief glimpse sparked curiosity in her. Perhaps the duke wasn’t as cold as she’d believed.
With Nathan and the duke standing together, Emma studied them from under her lashes. They were brothers, but they were very different, much as she and Mary were vastly different. Nathan appeared the picture of carefree youth, whereas his brother embodied the manner of a conquering knight. The duke was dark, serious, and had the solid build of a man who took great pains to stay fit. A flash of memory of just how solid his chest was popped into her mind. He’d not even flinched when she’d stumbled into him that day at his home.
“Your Grace.” The butler’s crackling voice nearly made Emma start, she’d been so lost in her contemplation. She looked toward the door where the butler stepped aside to let the Duke of Danby enter the room. Emma had always thought him rather intimidating with his watchful eyes and proud way he carried himself. He was tall and there was a slight curl to his lip, as if he had secrets he could divulge if he so chose. His gaze swept around the room, pausing only momentarily on Emma, but she noted how his eyebrows rose ever so slightly and his gaze shifted immediately from her to the duke before coming to rest finally on the duchess.
Silence permeated the room, and Emma realized everyone was staring at the aged butler, who was still simply standing there and had obviously forgotten to introduce the newest guest.
“Tensely, you old goat,” Nathan began, and Emma cringed at the thoughtless words.
Suddenly, the Duke of Blackbourne spoke. “Good evening, Uncle. Are you alone?”
“I left my nanny at home,” the man said, and the duchess twittered with laughter as she rushed forward and embraced the man. She kissed him on the cheek and the Duke of Danby greeted each person, Emma being the last in line as the youngest in her family.
She curtsied to him, and when she came up, he surprised her by catching her gloved fingertips with his and drawing her away from the rest of the group. She could practically feel her mother’s burning gaze on her back as she faced one duke and then two, since Blackbourne stepped over to where his great-uncle had guided her.
“What’s this about, Uncle?” Blackbourne demanded, his voice low.
Danby slanted a look at his nephew and then fixed his steely gaze on Emma once more. “I’m not quite sure, but I think I’ve a notion,” he answered most peculiarly without looking away from her. He smiled slightly. “I’ve heard a bit about you lately, Lady Emmaline.”
She prayed she didn’t look as surprised as she felt. “Have you?” She glanced at Blackbourne, imagining him telling Danby about the day on the ice, but Blackbourne looked just as surprised as she was at the announcement.
Danby nodded. “Indeed.” He inclined his head toward the duchess, who stood with Emma’s mother some feet to the right by a tall bookcase. The duchess was talking to Mother, but Emma knew by the way Mother was fixedly staring at Emma and the two gentlemen in front of her that she was not listening to the duchess.
“Adelia—” He paused. “Will it distress your sensibilities if I call the duchess by her Christian name?”
Emma barely smothered her laughter. “Not at all, Your Grace. I daresay my sensibilities will withstand the breach of etiquette.”
He patted her hand before releasing it. “I thought I remembered that about you, and of course your hair does confirm it.”
