Page 18 of It's In The Duke's Kiss
His arm came to rest on the back of her chair and pressed against her shoulders, and her toes curled in her slippers. It was utterly, utterly scandalous. Her mother would be livid if she saw, yet Emma did not think anyone could see that Nathan’s arm was touching her.
Suddenly, a spoon clanged against a glass, and Emma jerked her gaze to the head of the table where the Duke of Blackbourne was standing. “I’d like to toast my brother’s birthday. I’m so glad to be here with all of you to celebrate,” the duke said in a curt, irritable tone.
Emma almost snorted. Blackbourne hardly sounded or looked glad. In fact, as Emma raised her glass to toast Nathan, she studied the duke. He looked angry, and it appeared that his anger was directed at his brother. His cool gaze was locked on Nathan, and his mouth didn’t even hint at a smile.
Once the toast was over, Emma was forced into conversation with the Duke of Danby and the duchess, who fired questions at her so rapidly she could barely keep up.
“Do you like poetry, my dear?” the duchess asked in a rather loud voice.
“I do,” Emma replied.
“Excellent,” the duchess exclaimed. “Who is your favorite poet?”
“Oh, that’s easy. I adore Robert Burns,” she said. When the duchess glanced immediately toward the Duke of Blackbourne, so did Emma. He had an oddly intense look on his face as if he was thinking hard about something. Before Emma could consider it further, the Duke of Danby spoke, and she turned her attention to him.
“Do you like to dance, my dear?” he inquired.
“Immensely, Your Grace. But I daresay I am not the most graceful dancer.”
He nodded, as if pleased with her answer. “It’s good to know your weaknesses but not to let them hinder you. It shows you have strong character.”
“Thank you,” Emma immediately responded, thinking the conversation very strange.
“Do you ride?” the duchess asked.
“I do. Though I’m afraid I frequently get in trouble for riding too fast. My mother says it’s not ladylike, but it’s hard to repress the desire.”
The duchess smiled. “I’m sure your mother is simply worried for your safety. I often worry for Blackbourne when he races.”
Emma felt her lips part in shock. “His Grace races?” She was trying to imagine him being relaxed enough to race.
“Oh yes. He’s undefeated! In fact, I do believe he and Edgeworth have their annual race planned for tomorrow. They do it once a year, and the victor gives his winnings to his servants. It’s great fun. The entire household comes out. There’s a picnic first and then the race. Why, you should come! And your family, too, of course. It’s here on the land behind the house.”
Excitement bubbled in Emma. “Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll have to ask my mother, but I’m sure she’ll approve. Does Lord Nathaniel race, as well?”
Danby and the duchess exchanged a quick look before she responded. “Not in this race. It’s just between Blackbourne and Edgeworth.”
“Perhaps we can make an exception tomorrow,” Nathan said, suddenly inserting himself into the conversation. He gulped down the wine in his glass and waved a servant over for a refill. “It’s been years since I’ve had the pleasure of being trounced by my perfect brother.”
The last sentence came out as a snarl and made Emma frown. The animosity Nathan held toward his brother was apparent, but was it warranted?
“Nathaniel,” his mother said quietly, “not tonight. We have guests.”
He quaffed down the second glass of wine and smiled. “I’m sorry, Mother. Of course not. I’ll behave. I certainly don’t want to scare off our guests. Lucian would flay me if I ran off Lady Francine. And I most especially don’t want to frighten you, Lady Emmaline.”
He placed his hand over Emma’s, which she had rested in her lap. She startled, and her gaze flew to his. She knocked her knee against him to get him to move, and he grinned as he slid his hand away. The man truly was a rake! He didn’t even seem sorry to have made her uncomfortable. Why did he not seem as wonderful in real life as he had in her dreams?
“That’s enough, Nathaniel,” Danby ordered in a stern voice that left no room for argument.
A sullen look came to Nathan’s face, but he said no more. The rest of the meal passed in tense silence, and Emma couldn’t decide if she felt sorry for Nathan or irritated with him for acting so childish.
