Page 24 of The Best Husband Money Can Buy

Chapter 9

After her audience with the dowager duchess, Emma left the nearly empty drawing room to go to the ballroom. She was looking forward to her first waltz with Anthony. He was undoubtedly a superb dancer. She was badly in need of practice, but she didn’t think that would matter.

As she entered the hall that led to the ballroom, she saw Cecilia slip away from the crowd ahead and go down the cross passage that went to the foyer and the main staircase. Emma thought nothing of it, until she saw Anthony leave as well—going the same way as Cecilia.

Emma stopped in her tracks, her stomach turning. Surely Anthony could not be having an assignation with Cecilia, not after what had transpired between him and Emma last night and today!

She swallowed hard and told herself not to be a ninny. The fact that Anthony and Emma had gone off in the same direction was hardly proof of amorous intentions. In fact, they’d both looked rather tense, not at all like a couple in pursuit of illicit pleasures.

Fiercely she told herself that she must learn to trust her husband, or she would go mad, for there would always be women hovering around him. Nonetheless, not feeling ready to face the laughing people in the ballroom, she sank into a chair tucked beside a massive carved console table.

Until now, she had not let herself wonder if Anthony would be a faithful husband, because the answer was probably not one she would like. Many men of his class had mistresses, and a man who loved women as Anthony did was a prime candidate for infidelity. Her heart bled a little at the thought.

Would she still love her husband even if he was unfaithful? Probably—but if that ever happened, part of her would retreat from him. Never again would there be the openness and trust that had occurred today.

She sat very still and concentrated on her breathing until it was regular again. There. She had faced the worst. If Anthony was unfaithful, at least she would be a little prepared.But please God, don’t let it happen!

She was about to continue to the ballroom when she saw Brand stalk out and head in the direction that Anthony and Cecilia had gone. His face was like granite. Merciful heaven, had he seen them leave? If he caught the two of them together, there would be hell to pay, even if the meeting was perfectly innocent.

Swiftly Emma considered what to do. Go for the duke? He would certainly put a quick end to any conflict. But by the time she found him, it might be too late. Better to follow Brand and hope she could head off any trouble.

She got to her feet and walked after Brand, her long legs covering the ground quickly. By the time she reached the great hall, he was disappearing from sight on the upper floor, heading toward the gallery. Emma followed, praying that she was being an absolute idiot and nothing untoward was going to happen.

Halfway up the stairs, she was halted in her tracks by a woman’s scream. Merciful heavens, Cecilia! Lifting her skirts indecorously, Emma raced upward, knowing with icy certainty that years of festering anger had reached the explosion point.

* * *

Though Anthony’s mind was stunned by Brand’s attack, years of fencing practice saved him. As Cecilia shrieked, Anthony knocked aside his cousin’s blade. Retreating, he exclaimed, “Christ, Brand! Have you gonemad?”

“It’s you who are mad, to meet my wife in my own house!” Brand attacked again, this time controlled and far more dangerous than in his initial lunge.

With a shriek of clashing steel, Anthony countered well enough to save himself from injury, but this couldn’t last long. Brand had always been a better swordsman, and now he was in a blind rage.

Hearing the door open, Anthony spared a swift glance, hoping to see the duke or one of the duchesses. They were the only people Brand might heed. Instead, Emma entered. Christ, she was the last person he wanted to see! If he was going to be spitted like a lamb for roasting, he did not want his wife to witness it.

In the instant that his attention was divided, Brand drove in again, slashing at his opponent’s sword arm. Anthony managed to block his cousin’s blade, but only just. The sleeve of his shirt was ripped from elbow to wrist. Knowing he could not retreat forever, Anthony stood his ground, fighting back furiously. He managed to battle Brand to a standstill as their blades shrilled together with metallic fury.

Then heavy folds of fabric whipped violently between them, trapping the foils and knocking them downward. With amazement, Anthony saw that Emma had wrenched one of the great tapestries from the wall and slammed it over the dueling weapons. She looked like a furious Valkyrie.

“Bloody hell!” Brand sneezed from the dust released by the tapestry. “For God’s sake, Emma, stay out of this, or you’ll get hurt!”

Not moving, Emma snapped, “What the devil is this all about?”

“It’s none of your affair!” Recovering from the shock, Brand wrenched his weapon free from the heavy fabric and prepared to resume fighting.

“None of my affair when you’re trying to kill my husband?” she exclaimed.“Men!Of course this is my affair!”

Deciding it was time to take a hand, Anthony hurled his foil away. The sword flew across the gallery and stabbed into the wall about a yard above the floor, then hung there, quivering. “Enough, Brand! I won’t fight you any more, not when I haven’t the faintest idea why you’re so outraged.”

For a terrifying moment, it appeared as if Brand might renounce a lifetime of gentlemanly training and attack an unarmed man. Then Emma grabbed the cowering Cecilia’s hand. “Come on, Cecy, make yourself useful.”

She hauled her smaller cousin between the men so that the two women formed a barrier. Then, with a practiced schoolteacher voice, she ordered, “Brand, explain yourself.”

He looked mulish, which at least was an improvement over homicidal. Since he seemed unwilling to speak, Anthony said helpfully, “From what Cecilia told me, Brand suspects me of having an affair with her.”

Emma’s face tightened, but her voice was calm when she asked, “Are you?”

“Don’t be absurd!” he retorted. “Until yesterday, I hadn’t laid eyes on Cecilia in nine years.”

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