“Not at all,” she answered Felicia dismissively. “The duke and his brother had merely both engaged me in polite conversation.”
The other woman gave a snort. “I cannot say politeness is a virtue either of the Stirling brothers is known for. And did you see the sour look on Juanita Millbrook’s face when she saw you talking with them?” Felicia added with obvious glee. “Green does not even begin to describe her jealousy!”
Emma raised a hand to where she had earlier applied a dressing to cover the scratches on her neck. They had developed a light scabbing by this morning but were still visible as being exactly what they were: wounds inflicted by a vicious she-cat. Emma had decided, rather than put up with awkward questions from her father or Felicia, to instead cover the wounds and make up her own reason for having done so.
“I do not recall seeing Lady Millbrook in the ballroom, no,” she dismissed truthfully. Juanita had not been so unsubtle as to have challenged Emma in public but had chosen to attack her in the privacy of the ladies’ retiring room instead.
“It was most amusing.” Felicia chuckled. “I was about to come over and congratulate you for giving her the set-down when you suddenly disappeared.” She frowned. “Presumably that was when you went for your stroll. Did you injure yourself very badly?”
Emma had fabricated the story of having caught herself on a rose bush as she took a break from the entertainment by walking amongst the lush foliage of the Harpers’ candlelit conservatory. “Not too badly, no,” she now dismissed. “But as it is rather unsightly, I think it best if I do not attend the Thomases’ ball this evening.”
“Oh that is a pity.” Felicia sighed. “Perhaps—”
“His Grace, the Duke of Hawkwood, my lady,” the butler announced from the open doorway.
Emma stiffened at the mention Adam’s name. What on earth was he doing here? Which was a ridiculous thing for her to ask when Langdon was one of his closest friends. Even so, it was disconcerting to know Adam was now in the same house as her.
Felicia smiled blandly. “Did you inform His Grace my husband is not at home?”
The butler nodded. “His Grace was very clear it was Lady Langdon he wished to see.”
“Indeed?” Felicia’s brows rose. “In that case, you had better show him in.” She waited until the butler had departed and then turned to Emma. “I wonder if the duke’s visit today has anything to do with your being here too?” she asked archly.
“I very much doubt it,” Emma said scornfully, trying her best not to look flustered by Adam’s imminent arrival.
He had been politeness itself the previous night as he accompanied her outside and ensured she was comfortably seated in his carriage before he returned to the house.
He had treated her with the politeness Felicia claimed he did not have.
As if Adam had not just taken Emma to heaven and back. Several times.
Well, if Adam had shown her a glimpse of heaven last night, Emma felt as if she had been in hell ever since.
She had no idea what to make of his hot and then lukewarm behavior. Did not know how he could have treated her with the politeness of a virtual stranger after the intimacies they had just shared. Obviously, Emma was not made of such fine distinctions as Adam was, nor could she possibly make a pretense of such sophistication.
“I will make my excuses and leave once social politeness has been satisfied,” she told Felicia.
“So it is Alexander Stirling with whom you are enamored!”
A blush warmed Emma’s cheeks. “I—”
“His Grace, the Duke of Hawkwood.”
Both ladies stood as the duke swept into the room, Emma glancing at him surreptitiously from beneath her lashes as he strode over to his hostess to bend politely over the hand Felicia graciously held out to him.
He nodded abruptly in Emma’s direction to acknowledge her presence but did not make any attempt to approach her.
“Your Grace.” She curtseyed, her gaze lowered. Which did not mean she had not first observed how handsome Adam looked today in a perfectly tailored dark gray superfine and snowy-white linen. “I am afraid I really must be going now.” She offered her regrets to Felicia. “I still have some errands to run this afternoon.”
Her friend frowned her disappointment. “But—”
“You will be accompanying me in my carriage when I leave,” Hawkwood stated in a tone that brooked no argument.
Emma’s eyes widened. She wasn’t sure if it was due to indignation at his daring to order her about in public, or surprise at his wanting her to accompany him at all. Indignation won out. “My own carriage is waiting outside to take me wherever I wish to go.” Which, she realized belatedly, meant that Adam could not help but have seen the Harris carriage outside when he arrived, and so known of her presence here.
“I have already informed your father that you will be traveling home with me,” he bit out at Emma’s incredulous gasp.
Her father? When and where had Adam spoken to her father?
Her parent had still been out to lunch when Emma left the house earlier, so could Hawkwood possibly have met him at his club?
Or called at her home and spoken to her father there?
Either way, Emma did not appreciate Hawkwood’s highhandedness in thinking he could tell her what to do without so much as a by your leave, and she could feel the heat of that anger rising in her cheeks as she prepared to tell him so.
“I believe I will go and talk to the housekeeper regarding dinner this evening,” Felicia put in quickly. She had known Emma long enough to recognize the signs of her impending temper.
Neither Emma nor Hawkwood acknowledged their hostess leaving the room, which, in the circumstances, was very rude of them. Instead, their gazes were locked in a silent battle, green against gray, the one heated, the other icy.
Emma was finally the one to break the silence. “How dare you even think I would accept your intention to dismiss my carriage in that autocratic manner?”
Adam’s nostrils flared. He was in no mood to put up with Emma’s anger. Too much of her feistiness today, and she was likely to end up bare-assed over his knee. “As we are both going to Harris House when we leave here, it is ridiculous to go in separate carriages.”
“I… You… Why are you going to Harris House?”
Adam bristled at the suspicion in her tone. “For the same reason I called there an hour ago. So that your father and I might discuss the details of the marriage contract and you might begin the wedding preparations. Except,” he continued firmly as Emma would have spoken, “it seems my future bride has not informed her father of our betrothal this morning, as she had said she intended doing.”
“Well… I… But you…” She looked completely flustered as she lifted her chin in challenge. “Your manner last night did not indicate you still wished to marry me.”
“On the contrary,” he bit out. “I believe my behavior last night can have left you in no doubt as to my wishing to make you my wife.”
The color deepened in Emma’s cheeks. “I was referring to your coldness toward me when we parted.”
He scowled darkly. “What would you have had me do? Carry you upstairs to my bedchamber and fuck us both into exhaustion until morning, as I wanted to do?” He gave a harsh laugh at hearing Emma’s shocked gasp at the crudeness of his language.
This woman, Adam had decided through a long and virtually sleepless night, had the power to turn him to drink.
But as he had no intention of doing that, the cold lash of his tongue would have to suffice. “Why is it so damned difficult for you to be where you are supposed to be and do what you are supposed to do?” Adam had not enjoyed Harris’s surprise when he stated his business and the other man had looked completely blank about the subject. Worse, Harris had told him Emma was not even at home.
Her eyes glittered like twin jewels as she glared at him. “Possibly because I am free to do as I wish and not a dog you can call to heel whenever the fancy takes you!”
>
Some of Adam’s anger deflated at the ridiculous image that brought to mind. Although he was rather partial, did have a fancy, for having Emma on her knees in front of him again…
Most of the reason for his restlessness during the night was due to the throbbing of his unsatisfied cock.
He could have taken care of the problem himself, but the last few weeks had shown him it would have served little purpose. The moment he even thought about Emma’s bared breasts and the delicious taste of her pussy, his cock would have risen again just as painfully.
As it had done the moment he walked into Felicia Langdon’s sitting room.
Emma’s hair glowed golden in the sunlight shining in through the window behind her, and her burnt-orange day gown emphasized the creaminess of the swell of her breasts above the neckline. Adam knew exactly what delights lay beneath that gown now.
The sooner Emma became his wife and he could satisfy this uncontrollable lust, the better.
“Your father is perfectly happy for the two of us to arrive back at Harris House together,” Adam informed her loftily.
“So the two of you might discuss the details of the marriage contract and I might begin the wedding preparations.”
Adam sensed there was a trap in Emma having repeated his statement so accurately, but for the life of him, he couldn’t discern where or how. “Yes.”
Emma glared. “I have yet to hear a marriage proposal.”
He scowled his irritation. “You know that is not the way things are done.”
“I think the two of us have already gone far and beyond the way things are done,” Emma snapped. “And if I am to marry you”—she drew herself up straighter still—“I have decided I shall require a marriage proposal first.”
When had she decided that?
No doubt it was after Adam had ushered her from Hawkwood House in so timely a fashion the night before.
Alexander had been right. There was much more to Miss Emma Harris than appeared on the surface. She was also, without a doubt, the most stubborn female it had ever been Adam’s misfortune to— To what? Want to marry? Most definitely. But Emma was more than that. Much more.
She was intelligent, independent, and, like Adam, she did not suffer fools gladly. She was also the most artlessly responsive lover he’d ever known.
The ladies of the demimonde were tutored in the art of pleasing a man, and they were paid handsomely for it. The same with a mistress, except she usually required a house for giving exclusivity for the duration of the arrangement.
But Emma… Physically, she gave all of herself, without reservation or artifice. She was all the more desirable because of it.
Adam gave a terse nod. “We will discuss it in my carriage on the drive to your home.”
Emma had no idea why she was being so stubborn and challenging Adam in this way.
Except he infuriated her.
Irritated her intensely.
How was she supposed to have known how he would have preferred last night to end? She was not a clairvoyant, nor did she know him well enough as yet to discern the nuances of his mercurial moods. Why could he not have simply said he wanted to fu—make love to her? It would have saved her a wealth of unhappiness during those long hours of fitful sleep.
“We will discuss it,” she answered him. “But not in your carriage,” she stated. “No matter your opinion on the subject, I shall travel home as I arrived, in my own conveyance.”
“Stubborn, unreasonable, bloody female,” Adam muttered before drawing in a long and controlling breath. “Very well.” He nodded. “Once we arrive, I will ask your father if we might have a few minutes alone together before any negotiations are made between the two of us on the marriage contract.”
“You intend to propose to me?”
“I intend to buck against Society and ask you to marry me, yes.”
“Perhaps we will start a new fashion.”
“Perhaps,” he allowed dryly.
It was a moment of triumph, and yet strangely, Emma did not feel as if she had won anything, least of all their argument. How could she when it felt as if Hawkwood was humoring her rather than agreeing her request was a reasonable one.
Possibly because she knew that request was totally unreasonable. It was the way of things that the male head of the household, after possibly consulting the female on the matter—it was not a given this would occur—would then accept a marriage proposal on her behalf.
But Emma did not consider her relationship with Adam to have been in the least conventional so far, so why change things now? Most couples would not even have had a conversation alone together until after they were married, let alone indulged in the intimacies she and Hawkwood had already shared.
Emma had no more time to ponder the subject as Felicia returned and Adam immediately made excuses for both Emma and himself to leave. Felicia’s expression, when she glanced at Emma, promised there would be lots of questions asked, and answered, the next time the two women met.
“I am waiting for another set-down in regard to my arrogance in having made our excuses for both of us to leave as if it is already my right,” Adam drawled as they walked down the front steps of the house together.
Emma’s lips twitched as she held back the laughter at hearing his resigned tone. She doubted the autocratic Duke of Hawkwood was accustomed to being rebuked for any reason. But she did not need to win every argument between then, only most of them.
Besides, Emma had no intention of becoming predictable to him, and therefore boring. “Not at all,” she dismissed smoothly as her groom stepped forward to open her carriage door. “You are—” Emma gave a scream when she saw a dark and furiously buzzing cloud inside her carriage.
Chapter 10
“Take another sip of brandy,” Adam encouraged gently as he helped to lift the glass up to Emma’s pale lips. It wasn’t only her lips that were pale; the whole of her face was white as snow.
Understandably so when she had almost been attacked by a swarm of angry bees.
Thank God he’d had the foresight to slam the carriage door closed the moment he realized what the strange buzzing noise was; otherwise, Emma might have been seriously stung. Too many bee stings could, in some cases, prove fatal.
As it was, Adam had slammed the door to confine the bees before turning to catch Emma as she swayed, no doubt from shock. He had lost no time after that to carry her back inside the house and lay her carefully down on one of Felicia Langdon’s couches. The other woman had, thank goodness, the presence of mind not to fuss or ask too many questions as she instead instructed her servants to bring smelling salts and brandy.
Emma had revived within seconds, thank goodness, and was now well on the way to being over the worst of her shock.
The question Adam wanted answered was how the bees had gotten into the carriage in the first place? They could have formed their nest under one of the seats, he supposed, but if that was the case, why had they not swarmed previously? Bees didn’t usually attack like that unless first provoked.
Adam straightened as he saw some of the color was now returning to Emma’s cheeks. “I will be back in a few minutes.”
Emma watched Adam stride from the room, the rigidity of his wide shoulders and brisk walk unmistakably caused by anger.
Felicia sat on the couch beside Emma. “Hawkwood said something about bees inside your carriage…?”
Emma trembled. “Hundreds of them, it seemed like. If I had stepped inside and closed the door without realizing…” She gave a shudder. “I am allergic to a bee’s sting.” She had been stung once as a small child and had swelled up to almost twice her size. She would almost certainly have died if she had been attacked by a whole nest of them.
“It is time I took you home,” Adam announced as he came back into the room. “Thank you for your assistance, Lady Langdon, but I believe Emma would now benefit from being within the comfort and safety of her own surroundings.”
Emma felt something melt inside
her at Adam’s correct intuition of her emotions. It was exactly how she felt, much as she loved Felicia and appreciated her friendship and concern.
Except she did not wish to return home quite yet…
“Could we possibly go to Hawkwood House first?” Emma prompted once she and Adam were seated in his carriage. Her own carriage was no longer outside the house, and Emma could only presume Adam had sent it away when he had excused himself earlier for those few minutes. “I need to… I should like to be alone with you for a short time.” Color warmed her cheeks as she gazed shyly across the carriage at him. “If it is not an imposition.”
Adam looked at her wordlessly for several seconds, his gaze remaining on her as he knocked on the roof of the carriage. “Hawkwood House, Sheffield,” he instructed the driver, his gaze remaining fixed on Emma. “Knowing how much you dislike not being informed, I think I should tell you that there was no hidden nest, but a sack containing the bees had been deliberately placed under the seat of your carriage.” His expression was grim. “A surprise gift for you, according to your groom—although he had no idea what that gift was—from a beautiful dark-haired lady who claimed to be your friend.”
Emma stilled, stunned at the deliberate viciousness of such an act. “It was Juanita Millbrook,” she stated with certainty. After all, the other woman had warned Emma she would further regret her supposed friendship with Alexander Stirling.
Emma also recalled having once had a long conversation with Lord Millbrook on the subject of his keeping several hives of bees at Millbrook House because he enjoyed their fresh honey. She remembered admitting to enjoying their honey too but being allergic to a bee sting. Had Juanita Millbrook been present for that conversation? Emma did not recall, but it seemed likely, in view of the method the other woman had chosen to continue her attack.
Adam, well aware of the other woman’s viciousness toward Emma the previous evening, had drawn the same conclusion within seconds of the groom explaining the sequence of events leading up to them finding the bees in Emma’s carriage. The lad should not have let anyone enter or leave something in Emma’s carriage, of course, but Adam was sure Juanita Millbrook could be very persuasive when she chose to be. Lord Malcolm Millbrook, Adam also knew, could talk long and boringly for hours about his interest in beekeeping.
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