The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga) (14 page)

Knowing he had
no choice, Thomas removed his cloak and hat, handed them to a servant, and
followed his mother into the drawing room. He closed the doors and waited for
his mother to sit. Once she was settled on the settee, he sat opposite her and
waited for the inevitable.

“I just spoke
to Sebastian, and he is quite upset with you. Is it true you denied his
proposal of marriage to Miss Hamilton?”

Thomas closed
his eyes for a moment, piecing the right words together to satisfy his mother.
“I did not deny his proposal. I merely suggested he take a week to think it
over. They have hardly known each other long enough to declare themselves in
love. And there’s his commission.”

“Yes, yes. But
love?” his mother questioned. “Is that what this is about? What is it with
young people today that marriage needs to involve love? One does not need love
to start a union; feelings will come with time.”

“I disagree.
What if the so-called love does not come? Then two people are forced together
for the rest of their lives without someone to love or love them in return.”
His mother began to speak and he held her off. “Please do not speak about how a
gentleman can always find relief and tenderness from a mistress, and the wife
can find love with her children. What kind of life is that?”

“A perfectly
acceptable life,” his mother replied as she fidgeted in her seat.

“If I may be so
bold as to ask, did you and Papa love one another?”

His eyes never
left his mother’s face. Thomas knew he would see the truth in her expression,
not her words. Her body flinched ever so slightly, and when she pursed her lips
together in a thin line he had his answer, regardless of her reply.

“We had a
mutual respect for each other.”

Stunned did not
come close to describing his emotions. She’d told him the truth. He thought she
would declare herself in love with his father––which he knew was not true.
Thomas had not spent twenty years living off and on in the same house with them
to be unable to see they were mere strangers to each other. How they managed to
produce four children baffled him. And how could his mother have respected his
father in the later years? Those years when his father flaunted his mistresses,
drank and gambled away not only his life, but his fortune?

It did not
matter what type of marriage his parents had. Thomas saw things differently
now, and he knew he would marry for love. No less. And so would his brother and
sisters. Sebastian might think himself in love with Emma, but Thomas knew Emma
did not love Sebastian. How could she love his brother when, as an innocent,
she’d kissed him with passionate abandon?

No. He would
not approve such a marriage, ever.

“That is all
fine and well, but I believe in love and will not agree upon any marriage for
Sebastian, Isabella, Amelia, or Miss Emma Hamilton without it.”

His mother
gasped.

“Do I make
myself clear?” Thomas demanded.

“Yes, you have.
Now I would like to discuss Sebastian’s commission.”

“That is
another thing he needs to consider carefully. How is it that suddenly he does
not want it? I think he is letting his heart dictate his future. Sebastian may
declare himself in love with Miss Hamilton. But to my knowledge, she has shown
no such emotion for him.”

“Do you think I
don’t know my own sons?” The dowager pierced him with her all-knowing blue
eyes.

“W . . . what
do you mean?” Thomas’s stomach clenched tightly. Could she possibly know how
he
felt?

“I have eyes,
and I see the way you look at her when you think no one is watching. And I see
the way she looks at you as well. But heed my warning, and heed it well. If you
marry the girl, you could subject the family to scandal once again. Oh, it will
be nothing like we have seen before. But still, some might take offense to a
duke marrying his American ward. Just something for you to think upon.” She
rose from the settee. “Good day, Your Grace.”

Thomas rose as
well and nodded to his mother. “Good day.” He sat back down after she left the
room. That was the first time in his memory, since taking over the dukedom,
that she had dismissed him. When had he lost control of his family? And how he
hated it when she called him, ‘Your Grace’… He was her son, for God’s sake.

After sitting
and staring sightlessly into the room, for what seemed like hours, Thomas left
and made his way into the library. The Marquis of Amesbury’s library somewhat
lacked current reading materials, and he needed something, other than Byron, to
take his mind off his uncomfortable conversation with his mother when he
returned to his friend’s residence.

And he was sure
his mother could do without him that afternoon when their drawing room would be
invaded by gentleman callers again.

***

Having several
hours before afternoon tea, when Emma would have to smile and converse with
gentlemen she had no interest in, she thought she’d find something to read.
She’d left the library in such haste last evening that she hadn’t found a book.

Emma looked
around the room, this time making sure she was alone. She did not want a repeat
of last evening when she’d come to the library and found the duke. She shivered
and hugged the memory to herself.

Oh, to be
truthful, Emma
did
want a repeat. But she was also thankful he’d left
for the day. She had time to think and knew she could not allow a situation
like that to happen again, no matter how much she wanted him to kiss her and
hold her. She hoped reading would take her mind off the devilishly handsome and
darkly brooding duke. As her fingers scanned the volumes she heard footsteps
behind her.

She held her
breath and turned. Relief washed over her.

“Sebastian, you
startled me.”

“Forgive me.”
He glanced behind himself and closed the library’s double doors. “May I have a
word with you?” he asked, obviously anxious.

She swallowed,
calming her heart and putting aside her disappointment that it wasn’t Wentworth
in front of her now. “Yes.”

Sebastian
rushed forward and took both her hands in his large warm ones. Soft blue eyes
looked down into hers. When she realized what he was about to say, all air
vacated her lungs.

“Emma, I know
we have just recently met, but I . . .” Sebastian paused and inhaled while she
stared down at their joined hands and focused on how they shook.

This is not
good.

“I…” He bent
down on one knee and looked up at her face. Love radiated from the depths of
his eyes, and her stomach knotted in anguish.
How can I hurt this man?

“Will you do me
the honor of becoming my wife?”

Emma could do
nothing but stare at Sebastian. When she opened her mouth to speak, words
failed her. Inside her head too many words screamed at once, fighting for
purchase.
Accept his proposal. He is a wonderful man and he loves me. He is
kind, considerate, and would never hurt me.
These things she knew in her
heart. But another part of her, not responding to reason, screamed,
‘No!’

Sebastian rose,
pulling her numb body into his arms and brushing a kiss against her temple.
“You need not answer me today. Take your time. But know I love you.”

The lump clogging
her throat made speaking difficult. “Sebastian, I . . .”

“Please,” he
whispered into her ear. “Please think on it. I can be patient. I know this is
sudden, but I know how I feel.”

The library
doors opened with a resounding crash. Emma jumped away from Sebastian, pivoted
around, and found herself face to face with the duke. He obviously had not left
for the day.

“My, my, this
is cozy.” Wentworth glared at them both, his eyes flashing with dark anger.
“Please excuse me; I would not want to interrupt your little lovers’ vignette.”

With a damning
look at her, then at Sebastian, Wentworth turned and strolled out of the room,
slamming the doors behind him and sending footmen scurrying out of his way.

Sebastian
pulled her back onto his arms. “You are shaking. Do not worry about my brother.
I already asked for permission to marry you.”

Emma pulled
back stunned.
“You what?”
she squeaked.

“I asked him.
He did not give his consent. He recommended I think upon it.” Cradling her head
between his hands, he dropped his lips to hers. Emma tried to turn her head,
but he held it firmly in place. His lips were warm and soft, but they were not
Thomas’s. Nothing magical happened when Sebastian kissed her.

Her heart did
not race. Her hands did not itch to touch him. Her lips did not want to be
touching his. Her body did not yearn for things unknown. Emma actually wanted
to back away from the embrace. God help her, she did not know what to do. She
did not know how
not
to hurt the wonderful man who held her in his arms.

She pushed him
away and took several steps back. “Please, Sebastian, this is so sudden. I need
time to think.”

Like the true
gentleman that he was, Sebastian bowed and smiled even though the smile did not
reach his eyes. “Take all the time you need, my love. I will await your
decision.” Then he too turned and left her alone.

Emma blindly
reached out her hand and felt for the nearest piece of furniture to sink her
weary self into. Of all the dilemmas in her life, she never imagined two
brothers vying for her attention. How had she attracted these two
mind-meltingly gorgeous men?

She knew they
could have any gently bred lady of their choosing, so why had they chosen her?
She had no experience with the opposite sex and couldn’t think how she’d
encouraged them… until Wentworth’s kiss. Yes. Once their lips met, she’d
definitely encouraged that…

And he’d just
stormed out of the room like a spoiled schoolboy.

Someone should
add learning about males to every young lady’s studies. How was she to
recognize what was sincere, false, or just plain roguish behavior?

The doors to
the library creaked opened behind her, and every muscle in her body coiled up
tight. She held her breath again. Please, let it be either Bella or Amelia.

“Emma?”
Thomas’s soft voice filtered into the room from behind her and caused her pulse
to spike. “May I have a word with you?”

She closed her
eyes, letting his deep voice penetrate her soul, and sighed. “Yes.”

His footfalls
moved across the thick Persian rug, making little sound as he joined her on the
settee. When his thigh brushed hers she moved over to give him more room. Any
kind of physical contact with him did things to her she did not understand,
glorious things.

Emma knew their
bodies should not touch intimately because just being this close took away her
ability to think. Coming to England and behaving scandalously was not proper
behavior.

He turned to
face her and took both her hands in his.

Emma’s eyes
dropped to their joined hands. His large, masculine, ungloved hands swallowed
up her small delicate ones. The realization sent delicious shivers up her arms.

“I want to
apologize for my behavior. I had no right to take my frustration out on you––or
my brother.” He raised her hands to his mouth and brushed his moist lips across
her naked knuckles. “Please, forgive me.”

No words came
to Emma. All she could do was peer at his shoulder while he cradled her hands
lovingly against his cheek. She should pull them away. This whole scenario was
improper. They were alone and holding hands. However, her body and brain could
not agree to stop it.

“I forgive
you.” Then she made the mistake and looked into his eyes. The yearning in them
shot straight to her heart.

“I must go
now.” She tugged her hands away with little force…so little force they never
moved but remained intertwined with his.

“Emma, I know
Sebastian loves you, and he would make a good husband for you.” He rose to his
feet, pulling her with him, his hands still entwined with hers. “He would be
faithful, kind, and gentle and is most deserving of your love.”

Was he here
to tell me this, that I should marry Sebastian?

Her ears
pounded from the blood pumping through her veins. And she had to fight her
instinct to reach out and pull this man she loved into her arms.

“Emma, I’m
asking you: Do you love him? Do you want to marry him? I want the choice to be
yours.”

‘No’ her brain
screamed out. Sebastian was a wonderful man, but she wanted to marry the man in
front of her, although it was obvious from his question that would never
happen. If he loved her he would not ask if she loved another. She was certain
then that Thomas, the duke, would never consider marrying her.

After inhaling
deeply she bravely met his eyes again. The air stalled in her lungs. Thomas’s
eyes mirrored his soul. Sadness, desperation, and loneliness radiated from his
deep blue eyes. And something else. A small glimmer of…could it be…
hope?

She swallowed,
closed her eyes, leaned into him and whispered, “I cannot marry him. I do not
love him. At least not the way he wants, and it would not be right. He deserves
a woman who will love him . . . completely.”

***

Thomas groaned
his approval, wrapped his arms around her waist, and buried his head in her
hair. He inhaled the jasmine scent that he associated only with her. Every
muscle in his body liquefied. He had not realized how fearful and tense he’d been.

“Emma, I,” he
whispered as he placed his index finger under her chin, tilting her head up so
he could capture her luscious lips with his.
Dear God, forgive me, but this
is like coming home.

Everything
about her tasted familiar. Thomas moved his head for better access, forcing her
lips open with his tongue, sweeping the inside of her mouth. When Emma joined
her tongue with his he swallowed a moan. Her arms circled his neck, and she
leaned her breasts against his chest.