The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga) (18 page)

“Mama…” Amelia
began. “She will be glad to have her eldest son finally married. She can rest
easy knowing an heir will soon follow.”

“Oh. You
misunderstand,” was all Emma could say as a chill of foreboding racked her body
from the inside out. No matter what Amelia said, she knew the duchess would be
apple-red with rage. She might even think that Emma had tricked her son into
the proposal. Maybe Emma could beg Thomas to send her back to America instead.

Her reputation
would be intact there. Then she remembered that Sebastian was in America. Could
she change her name, like one of her heroines in her books might do under the
circumstances? Not likely. Boston and New Bedford society knew her too well for
that. She could move west…

And if she went
away, his reputation would not be tarnished at all. Indeed, most would believe
him lucky to have escaped marriage to an American. Life was unfair. Standards
for men and woman favored men in every regard, and dukes in particular.
Someday, in the future, maybe things would be different. But for her and for
now, life tipped in favor of the male sex.

Upon arriving
at Wentworth House, Thomas waited until Amelia and Bella went inside to have a
private word with Emma.

“My dear,” He
took Emma’s gloved hands into his. “I realize tonight was a shock to you, but I
promise you, you will not regret marrying me. Please say nothing about what led
up to this to my mother. I will tell her in the morning.” Thomas dropped her
hands, stepped back, and bowed. “Goodnight.”

***

His body
trembled as he watched Emma enter his home. He hoped he could keep his promise
to her. That he would never give her cause to regret marrying him.

During the ride
to Amesbury’s he had the coach stop twice so he could relieve himself of the
nausea he felt. Guilt mixed with acid churning inside his stomach didn’t settle
well.

He was
massaging his right side when he climbed the stairs to his friend’s townhouse.
The moment Thomas crossed the threshold into Amesbury’s bedchamber, Myles
surveyed his appearance.

“You look worse
than Amesbury,” Myles exclaimed. “What happened?”

Thomas ignored
his question. “How is he?”

“Sleeping. He
still can’t keep anything down, but the doctor says by tomorrow he should be as
good as new.” Myles glanced toward their friend and cringed. “I don’t believe
him.”

“Indeed. I
think his fight has just begun,” Thomas agreed as he paced the room, slightly
bent to the right side, his hand still massaging away. Why the bloody hell he
didn’t sit down was a mystery.

“I’m getting
married.” There, he said it.

Myles stared at
him, eyes wide.
“You’re what?”

Thomas raked
his left hand through his disheveled hair. “Look at me. I’m a mess. I thought I
would be glad to marry Emma.”

His friend
raised his brows searching. “Spill all.”

Thomas took a
deep breath. Burning pain radiated from his side, sending him crashing down on
one knee, gasping. “Damn, but my side kills.”

Myles ran to
Thomas, helped him up, and moved him to a chair.

“Much better,
thanks. Now as to what happened…” He would never admit to anyone he compromised
Emma on purpose; even his two best friends would not understand. “I found her
out in the Boonevilles’ gardens alone with Major Fontaine. He was forcing
himself on her, the bloody bastard. When I think about it now, I wish I had
pummeled him bloody instead of shoving him on his way.”

When Thomas had
come upon them and found Emma struggling in the major’s arms, his heart had
physically stopped and he literally saw red. If he hadn’t been so concerned for
Emma he would have beaten the man senseless there and then.

“Anyway, I was
consoling her when somehow or another we were found sharing an intimate
moment––by Lady Shrewsbury and Mrs. Winchester, of all the ladies in
attendance.” He hissed as a wave of acute pain pierced his side again and
spread throughout his entire body.
Could one actually die from guilt?

It took a
moment to figure out Myles was shaking with laughter, not anger.

“Well, it’s
settled then. You have found your duchess and will have married off your ward
in one ceremony.” Why was Myles finding this so humorous?

“You can stop
laughing on my account,” Thomas groaned, hissing in pain.

“Why, don’t be
so dramatic. It’s not a death sentence.” Myles paused and wiped the tears from
his eyes. “I’m having the most fun I’ve had in days.”

“That’s not all
of it. I had proposed earlier in the day and she refused.”

More laughter
rang out from his so-called friend.

“You’d best
come to my house tomorrow morning,” Thomas snapped. “I’m sure you can amuse
yourself while I tell my mother the details of the evening, the outcome––my
engagement, and then you can listen while she lectures me on all things proper
and not proper. And how she had high hopes for my marriage.”

Damn, he did
not relish explaining this to his mother. But there was no way around it. Not
now.

He turned to
Myles. “Go home, get some rest. And by the way, I danced with Marissa.” More
shredding pain struck him, but he breathed through it. “Did you know she
fancied Sebastian?”

“What!”
Myles yelled.

“I’m sorry. I
had no idea. You know how alive and animated your sister is. Well, when I told
her about Sebastian moving to America, she shut down.” Thomas spoke through
gritted teeth. Was there no end to the guilt raging through him? Surely this
pain would dim. “You should go home. Talk to her, have her write my brother. Or
write to him yourself. I can give you the details to locate him. Maybe then
he’ll come back and stop this madness.”

“Humph.” Myles
buttoned up his overcoat and stuffed his neckcloth inside the pocket. “I’ll try
to get back early in the morning. You need to go home and deal with your mother
and the details before word reaches her. I fear she will never forgive you if
she finds out through the gossip mongers.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The moment
Myles entered the hallway leading to Marissa’s bedchamber, he heard sobs.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took a deep breath and knocked gently on
the door. No answer. He turned the knob and opened the door slowly so as not to
startle her.

Marissa sat,
bent forward, on the edge of her bed, her face cradled in her hands. Her small
body, clothed in a white dressing gown, shook as she cried, causing his heart
to pause mid-beat. Why had she never told him about her feelings for Sebastian?
He could have helped bring them together.

“Marissa,
honey…” He sank down next to her and hugged her close. It seemed all she needed
was to rest her head on his shoulder. While Myles’s fingers stroked her long
hair, the identical shade to his, he murmured soothing words. After awhile she
took the handkerchief he offered and blew her nose, albeit in a most unladylike
way. Then she dried her tears.

At that moment
it hit Myles like a runaway wagon piled high with bricks––he was the big
brother to
five
sisters. He groaned. This was just the beginning of much
heartbreak to come. Gentlemen who broke ladies’ hearts should be skewered
through with the sharpest sword imaginable. The large claymores favored by the
Scots would do nicely.

“Are you fine?”
he asked, not wanting to come right out and ask about Sebastian and start the
crying all over again.

“My dear
brother,” Marissa said between loud hiccups. “When you marry, whomever you
marry… She will be the most fortunate lady alive.”

He nudged her
hip gently with his own, encouraging her to move over. “Why do you say that?
I’m an unrepentant rogue of the vilest kind who spends his nights in gaming
halls and brothels.”

That brought
giggles from Marissa, and that was music to his ears. “You are no such thing,
brother, and you know it. Oh, I admit you and your two co-conspirators in
wickedness and debauchery try at playing the degenerates. But anyone who knows
you on a personal level knows the rumors are just that––rumors without a lick
of truth behind them.”

Myles nudged
her again, this time a little harder. “Please keep this to yourself. I worked
hard to acquire my reputation, as did Wentworth and Amesbury. We would be
appalled if people thought we were upstanding citizens.”

“Why does a
broken heart hurt so badly?” Marissa asked, suddenly melancholy once again.
Myles’s heart cracked a little as he listened.

“I don’t know,
little sister. I wish I knew. If I did I could heal yours and mine.”

Marissa sucked
in air. “You have a broken heart? I don’t believe it. Who would dare turn you
down? She must be daft in the head.”

He actually
laughed, and his heart lightened within his chest. “Well, I wouldn’t go so far
as to say she was daft. More like she was promised to another when we first
met. I was relentless in my pursuit of her, though. I believe she cared for me.
Hell, maybe I was the one daft in reading her, and saw only what I wanted to
see.

 “Never mind
about my heart. It is long past healed and seeking another for its affections.”
An image of Bella flashed in Myles’s mind, and his heart picked up a beat. Did
Bella cry for him at night?
Damn.
He sucked in air.

Wentworth was
right; guilt did cause pain. But there was another consideration… Did he
perhaps like that Bella was in love with him? He realized then that part of him
did and part of him didn’t. Bella deserved a man who knew his heart and mind.
Perhaps time could heal his broken heart and he could be that man.

“Tell me about
Sebastian,” he encouraged.

His sister
moved away and sat, legs crossed, facing him on the bed. Her eyes were puffy
and swollen, her nose red. She looked about ten years old.

“I know it’s
silly. But ever since I was a little girl I dreamed about marrying Sebastian. I
wanted him to come to my room and steal me away, preferably on horseback, and
take me to Gretna Green. We would marry, have a house full of children, and
grow old together.” She sighed loudly. “Stupid, huh?”

Shaking his
head, Myles said, “No, I imagine every little girl dreams about her prince.
That he will steal her away from her cruel family and ravish her.”

That brought
giggles from Marissa. Good, he accomplished what he’d wanted, for now.

“How convenient
of you to twist my story,” she said, turning serious again. “Do you think he
ever thought about me? Sebastian was all I thought about while I prepared for
the season to open. And when I had the stomach ailment and missed the first
ball and then Almack’s, I wanted to die.

“My insides
bubbled with excitement tonight. I thought I would see Sebastian and persuade
him to dance with me so I could steal his heart.” Shaking her head from side to
side, she continued. “Talk about thinking and acting like a child.”

“Wentworth said
you took the news like a lady. He feels awful because he and Sebastian had a
terrible row, which caused Sebastian to leave.” There was no way Myles would
tell his sister about Sebastian asking for Emma’s hand. “I’m not saying
Sebastian would have stayed if he knew of your feelings for him, because not
even I can know what goes on inside another’s head.

“The only
advice I can give you is to have an open mind. I know you don’t want to hear
this, but there is another out there for you. You might even have met him
tonight, though you don’t yet know it.”

“Kind of you to
lie to me, brother. However, I think it will take some time before I forget
Sebastian and move on. But thank you for trying to lift my spirits.” She
scooted under the covers, ready to call it a night. “I love you, Myles.”

Myles’s heart
melted. He could not remember the last time he and Marissa had spent time alone
like this. He would make sure it didn’t go so long before the next time.

“I love you
two, Rissa.”

After leaving
his sister’s room, he entered his own with a lighter heart than he’d had hours
ago. His talk with Marissa helped him see his feelings for Sophie for what they
were,
a fairy tale.
It was time to bury memories of Sophie and start new
ones.

He had a life
ahead of him, and by God, he planned on living it, because if he had learned
anything this past week it was that life was unpredictable––and Amesbury was
the perfect example.

***

By the time
Thomas arrived home the following morning, the air fairly crackled with
tension, a tension so ominous it made his skin prickle. Sighing, he handed his
hat and coat to Giles, his brows raised in silent question.

“Your Grace,
the dowager duchess awaits you in your study.”

“Thank you.”
The sharp pain in his side had not gone away but had been excruciating off and
on during the ride home. And the stairs would not help his condition. Perhaps
speaking with his mother would clear the air and lessen his guilt and physical
pain.

As Thomas
slowly moved one foot after the other up the staircase and down the hall, he
reminded himself that he was a duke and not some ten-year-old awaiting a
scolding from his mother. He was a twenty-nine-year-old with responsibilities
to country and family. He would not let his mother bully him. If he could face
down opponents in Parliament, he could face down his mother. He decided on a
strategy of control.

Steeling
himself, he opened his study door and moved with stealth to his desk and sank
down into the butter-soft leather chair. He grimaced because of the pain, but
looking at his mother’s face, he knew he would have anyway.

“Mother,” he
said, his head nodding in greeting as he saw her flinch. Thomas knew she hated
it when he called her that.

For a long
second his mother leaned forward, projecting her anger toward him without
saying a word.

“I pride myself
in thinking I am a good mother to my children. That I instilled a kindness and
decency into their upbringing that they would carry into adulthood.” Her hand
flew into the air in frustration. “Obviously I imagined it all. Have you
anything to say on the matter?”

With eyes
closed, he prayed the excruciating pain in his side would subside. How did his
mother turn him into a bumbling youngster so easily? “What happened last
evening has nothing to do with how you raised me. I lost my head, and now I
will suffer the consequences.”

“We all suffer
now, because of your actions. You’d better hope Emma does not
suffer
for
your
consequences, too. You ruined her, and you will beg her forgiveness
and be a kind, loving,
and
faithful husband to her. She deserves no less
after what you did.”

Of all the
things Thomas expected his mother to say, this was not it. He expected her to
be appalled at the idea of him marrying Emma. Since when was he so bad at
reading people? And what possibly gave her the notion he would not be kind to
her?

“I plan to be a
good husband to her.”

“Good. Now, we
need to plan,” his mother said, as she leaned forward slightly in the chair.
“Three weeks is short notice for a large, extravagant wedding, but we can have
a nice intimate ceremony with family and friends at the country estate. You
must go at once to the Duke of Canterbury and apply for a special license. But
first you must go to Whitehall and asked the Prince Regent’s permission to
marry Emma.”

Wentworth
stared at his mother, his jaw open, as she went on and on about wedding plans.
About who they would invite and who would not be welcome. And how she would be
packing up the girls and leaving tomorrow for the country. He was expected to
join them in a fortnight. Surely that was enough time to wrap up his affairs in
London? The House of Commons would have to do without him for a short while.
And she expected them to honeymoon on the Continent shortly after their
nuptials. When she was finished, she rose, turned, and left the room smiling.

Soon after his
mother left, Thomas glimpsed a nervous Emma standing in his open doorway. She
looked fetching in a light blue day dress that fit her to perfection––not to
mention accentuating all her womanly curves. His pulse spiked. What better time
than now to get this conversation over with?

“Emma, please
come in and sit.” Thomas stood and waited for her to get settled, then he sat
back down. “My mother just left.”

Her body
stiffened right before his eyes. He could almost see the tension settle in one
muscle at a time as it traveled up her body.

***

“Your Grace,”
she began, hesitantly, “I beg of you to call this marriage off and send me back
to America. I do not believe scandal will travel with me across the ocean. If
you will be so kind as to give me a living allowance, I will get on just fine
in America.”

Emma held her
breath, waiting and waiting as her eyes watered from the strain of this ordeal.
Wentworth looked at her as though she were a simpleton and what she asked was
preposterous.

Well, it was
not. She knew she deserved no less. He had ruined her. Things could be worse;
Major Fontaine could have been the one to compromise her. God forbid. Because
that was one man she would not marry, scandal or no scandal. She pitied the
poor woman who ended up married to him.

Still, the duke
need not feel obligated to her. All Emma wanted was some of the money that
belonged to her father, the portion that should have been hers anyway. The idea
of spending the rest of her life with a man who would not have chosen her
otherwise sent icicles across her skin. She would not stand for it. She
deserved a marriage with a man who truly wanted her.

“I cannot, in
good conscience, allow that,” he finally answered with a half a grin.
Was he
enjoying this?

“You mean you
have a conscience, Your Grace?”

Laughter
bubbled out and he leaned forward, elbows on the large mahogany desk. “Indeed,
I have one.” One brow arched as he inquired, “Do you?”

“Do I?” she
sputtered as anger replaced the trepidation she’d had when she first entered
his study. “You cannot be serious, Your Grace. I have more of a conscience than
you do.”

“Do you?” he
replied in a sarcastic tone. “If you truly had a conscience you would not leave
me to be steeped in scandal as you run off to your treasured America.”

“Oh, please. We
both know there would be no scandal. Gentlemen of the
ton
with the title
of duke are exempt from scandal. You would be congratulated on your escape from
marrying an undesirable American, and we both know it.”

Damn him for
grinning. The light sparkling in his bright blue eyes proved he was enjoying
this immensely. Well, she wasn’t.

“Undesirable?”
Thomas whispered, sending good shivers up her spine this time. She tried to
ignore them. “I never once called you undesirable.” He stood, came around the
desk, and settled one hip on the corner, bringing their legs to near touching.
The action pulled his buff breeches tighter than they were, accentuating every
bulge and muscle.
She would not look.

“I believe my
actions have already proven otherwise. I most certainly desire you.”

Heat scalded
Emma’s cheeks. It was impossible to stop the blush as she remembered the stolen
kisses they had shared. The hard protrusion she’d felt in his britches. She
couldn’t help thinking about what his hands had done beneath her skirts. “You
have made your point. You desire me as a woman, but surely not as your wife.”

“Come now,
Emma, we are not marrying for love. Is it not enough that I desire you?” He
stood, reached for her hands, and pulled her into his arms. Thomas curled one
large warm hand around Emma’s waist while the other raised her chin, forcing
her to stare into his deep, dangerous, blue eyes. She could easily get sucked
in and drown in that sea of blue.