Page 20 of It's In The Duke's Kiss
A slow, startlingly wolfish smile curved his lips upward. “I’m a weed, and I think you and I both know that you’re no wallflower.”
An army of butterflies invaded her stomach, which made her frown and the duke grin. “What would you say I am if not a wallflower?” she asked, irritated that her voice sounded breathless.
He studied her with those penetrating eyes of his. Had she truly thought his gaze cool earlier? She could hardly remember, feeling scorched as she did by the way he drank her in from her slippers up to the top of her head. She was suddenly very aware of her hair lying heavy on her shoulders. She could imagine his hands sliding through the strands, lifting them off her neck and then pressing his warm lips against her bare skin. A knowing glint came into his eyes, turning the light gray to a dark, dangerous, stormy charcoal.
Good heavens! She’d lost her wits somewhere between dessert and singing. She didn’t even like the Duke of Blackbourne. Or did she?
He leaned close to her, as if to whisper a secret. “You’re a bouquet of wild daffodils. Bright yellow, I think.”
“Do you like daffodils?” Her voice had gone from breathless to a throaty whisper, and her heart skipped a dozen beats.
“I’ve always preferred orderly rosebushes until tonight. I find I’m now intrigued by the beauty an unrestrained flower presents.” He pulled back, putting a proper amount of space between them and sweeping his hand to two chairs angled toward each other in a corner. “Shall we sit and get to know each other?”
She looked toward Nathan, but he was still speaking with his great-uncle, and looking rather irritated about it by the scowl on his face. She glanced back at the duke, who appeared amused.
“I suppose no harm could come of that,” she replied. Once they were seated, she went on. “May I ask you a question, Your Grace?”
“But of course,” he responded, his voice friendly.
She knew she should probably not ask what she was about to ask, but she could not seem to help herself. “Are you and your brother not getting along because of my accident?”
The duke inhaled sharply before exhaling slowly. “Yes and no. It’s more than that. Nathaniel has been having a bit of trouble in school—”
“What sort of trouble?”
“Er, problemsstayingin school.”
The duke shifted in his seat, as if her question made him distinctly uncomfortable. She should probably leave it be, but leaving things be had never been her forte. “Perhaps school is simply not for him,” she said, thinking of the way her mother constantly tried to force her to study things in which she had no interest.
“Perhaps,” Blackbourne agreed, surprising her. She’d expected him to argue the point. “I never considered that.” He appeared contemplative and paused a few seconds before continuing. “I have to admit, I’ve always assumed it was his lack of sound judgment, but maybe it’s been purposeful.” He glanced across the room at his brother for a long moment and then brought his gaze back to her. “Maybe he’s been trying to tell me something without coming out and saying it.”
She nodded. “I can relate to that.”
He hitched an eyebrow. “Can you?”
Her gaze darted to her mother, then back to His Grace. “I can. I’ve spent my life trying to show my mother that I’m not who she wants me to be, but she simply doesn’t want to see it.”
“Who does she want you to be?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
Emma ran a smoothing hand over the nonexistent wrinkles in her gown. She’d revealed far more than was proper, however, it was too late to turn back the revelations. It would be rude. “She’d like very much for me to make a grand match, and I don’t care about that at all.”
“Don’t you?”
The surprise in his voice made her chuckle. She shook her head. “Truly, I don’t. I’ve watched my mother nitpick and complain about my papa for years, moaning about how he has not been attentive enough to his finances and, therefore, has not provided well enough for her. But he provides her with love, and to me, that is the greatest treasure. He tries so very hard to make her happy, and she makes herself miserable always wanting for more. I want a husband who will make me happy and not be as serious as my mother. I want a husband who loves me just as I am and has no intention of trying to change me as my mother is constantly trying to change my papa and me.”
“What would she care to change about you?”
Emma snorted, and then she slapped a hand over her mouth as a nervous giggle escaped her. Then another and another. Oh dear. It was happening again. She watched in growing horror as the duke’s eyes softened and he raised his hand to her mouth and peeled her fingers away. She bit down on her lip, afraid of what might happen.
“You’ve no need to be nervous,” he said soothingly.
She gulped in a deep breath and felt a sudden calmness. She took another, shorter breath and spoke. “How did you know I was nervous?”
“I remember you laughing much the same way the day you came to my Mayfair home, and I realized it’s because you were nervous.”
“How embarrassing,” she muttered.
“No.” He shook his head. “I find it endearing.”
