Page 22 of The Best Husband Money Can Buy

Then he pounced, trapping her with his body as his cloak fell around them both. As she gave a squeak of surprise, he captured her mouth in a mesmerizing kiss.

It was a wonder they didn’t melt the snow.

* * *

Anthony and his wife finished a thoroughly decadent day by napping after their walk. When they rose and prepared for dinner, he wondered if his intrepid bride would have been as eager for another passionate session as she had been for the earlier ones. He’d been too drained to find out, but was sure that by the end of the evening, when they went to bed again, he would have recovered sufficiently to offer another example of husbandly devotion.

Smiling for no particular reason, he glanced at Emma, who was putting a pair of gold earrings he bought for her. Even though he’d always fancied petite blondes, he must admit that his wife, who was exactly the opposite, was quite irresistible. Even now, when desire was temporarily sated, he wanted her. It was impossible to imaginenotwanting her, no matter how many years they were married.

The dinner bell jangled through the long halls. Emma rose from the dressing table and turned slowly. “Do I look all right?”

He found her lack of confidence rather endearing. “You look magnificent,” he said with complete sincerity. “That shade of russet silk is perfect for your coloring.” And this time she was not covering her bountiful curves with a gauze scarf.

She smiled and took his offered arm. “The only drawback to a formal dinner is that I can’t sit next to you.”

He said meaningfully, “That doesn’t matter, since you’ll sleep next to me.”

Her blush was so enchanting that he paused to nibble from her ear to her shoulder. She tasted delicious. Both of them were breathing more quickly when he escorted her from the room. If it weren’t for Brand’s enmity, this would be a perfect holiday.

* * *

After a long and lavish dinner, the duchess rose in the signal for the ladies to withdraw. As the crowd of women made their laughing way the drawing room, the dowager duchess appeared beside Emma. “Come, child. I want to talk to you. We’ve scarcely had a chance so far.”

“So many Vaughns, so little time,” Emma said with a laugh. “You’re in such demand, Grandmére, that I didn’t wish to monopolize you.”

“Then I shall monopolize you instead,” the dowager said tranquilly. In pale ice-blue silk and ostrich plumes, she was as lovely now as in the portrait Gainsborough had painted when she was twenty and a newlywed duchess.

When they reached the drawing room, the dowager steered Emma to a pair of wing chairs set in a quiet corner. As they seated themselves, she said, “Is Verlaine treating you well?”

Emma blushed. “Very well, Grandmére. We have much still to learn about each other, but we…we seem to suit.”

“I guessed as much,’ the dowager said, her faded blue eyes twinkling, “when I saw you coming in from your walk this afternoon. Such a quantity of snow on you both.”

Another blush. Really, Emma thought with resignation, she’d blushed more in the last few days than in the previous ten years.

“I’m so glad you married Verlaine,” the dowager said seriously. “He has a good heart, but he needed an anchor, a sense of direction. You’ll give that to him, I think.”

Startled, Emma said, “I thought the benefits of this marriage went mostly to me.”

“Not at all. A good marriage is a benefit to both partners,” the dowager said briskly. “You will give Verlaine stability, and he will teach you to laugh and enjoy life.”

Emma looked down at her wedding ring, absently turning it on her finger. “I haven’t had many opportunities for laughter in the last ten years.”

The dowager sighed. “I wish you had come here. Even if you wouldn’t stay at Harley, surely we could have found better employment for you than what you had.”

Emma glanced up. “You were the responsible for the fact that every year I received a Christmas invitation, weren’t you? That’s how you know about my various employers.”

The dowager nodded. “I was afraid you might be lost to us, so I did my best to ensure that wouldn’t happen. You should have come long ago.”

Emma had not known that anyone was so interested in the welfare of an orphan who was a mere connection, scarcely a member of the family at all. A little defensively, she said, “I wanted to be here, Grandmére, but I could not have left my work for so long. Nor could I have come as a beggar.”

“You have your share of Vaughn pride,” the dowager said dryly. “I know it well.” Laying a gentle hand on Emma’s, she continued in a softer voice, “But my dear girl, I want you to know that you would have always been welcome.”

Emma swallowed hard, torn between tears and a strong desire to kick herself. The dowager was right—it was foolish pride that had kept her away, far more than her circumstances. Still, she was here now. She gave the dowager a heartfelt hug. It healed a loneliness deep inside to know that she never really stopped being a Vaughn.

* * *

When the Duke of Warrington gave the signal that it was time to leave the port decanter, Anthony held back as the rest of the men—including Brand—got to their feet and ambled off to rejoin the ladies. In a group so large, it was proving fairly easy to avoid his glowering cousin.

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