The Daring Duke

by Jess Michaels

“Certainly your brothers must do the same,” he said. “It is our prerogative, you know.”

  She shook her head slowly. “I have no brothers, Your Grace.”

  “Ah, I see,” he said with a grin. “Sisters, then. Poor girl.”

  She laughed and the small smile became a larger one. James could hardly breathe at the sight of it. Good Lord, that wide expression transformed her into something entirely lovely.

  “It is just me, I’m afraid.”

  He moved another step closer. “Would you like to walk with me?”

  The moment he asked the question, he drew back a fraction. Why had he done that?

  Emma hesitated and her gaze slid to the doors to the house. James wondered at that beat of reluctance. Most women would have none. He knew a match with him was considered valuable. Especially for a woman in Emma’s position.

  “You—you needn’t trouble yourself,” she said at last.

  He tilted his head. “It is no trouble, Miss Liston. It would be a pleasure.” He held out his arm. “Please.”

  “And what about your sister? She’ll be back any moment and she expects me to be here.”

  He smiled. “Meg won’t fly into a rage, I assure you. And she’ll be able to see us from the terrace. I’m certain she’ll simply catch up to us and the two of you can carry on with your walk.”

  She hesitated again, and he was fascinated by the fact that her reluctance made him want her acceptance all the more. Finally she nodded, and it was like he’d won a prize as she took his arm and allowed him to guide her to the stairs that led down to the garden.

  She was quiet as they moved toward the pathway through the garden and he said, “It is rare for a family to be so small. No brothers or sisters.”

  He thought he saw a brief shadow cross her face, and then she said, “Well, my parents were not blessed with more than one child. Your family is little better, though, isn’t it? With all your talk of brothers and sisters, it is only you and Meg.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I suppose that is true. I sometimes forget.”

  She laughed as she glanced up at him. “You forget you have no other siblings? That is a fairly large thing to forget, my lord.”

  He smiled at her teasing. Once again, he was struck by how unlikely it was that another lady of his acquaintance would do the same. They were so often grasping to make an impression, to make a match.

  Emma was different. And he found that inspired candor in him that he might not have had with another person.

  “I suppose I forget because I have such a tight circle of friends,” he explained. “The 1797 Club.”

  She blinked. “The 1797 Club? I’m not aware of it.”

  “It is incredibly exclusive,” he said, motioning her to a bench that overlooked the fountain in the middle of the garden. She took a place and he sat beside her, suddenly aware of how close their knees were as he spoke.

  “So exclusive that it feels like family?” she asked, seemingly oblivious to his thoughts.

  “They are my brothers. We formed the little group when we were boys.”

  “In 1797,” she teased. “At the ripe old age of…what? Twelve?”

  “Fourteen,” he corrected with a nod. “You see, I needed help as I moved toward inheritance of my dukedom. And we formed a group of all of us who would take that same level of title so we could assist each other.”

  “And how many are you?” she asked.

  “Ten, including myself,” he said.

  She smiled once more, this time gentle and understanding. “Then you have a very large family after all. And that is a lucky and rare thing.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is the Duke of Northfield one of those in your group?” she asked.

  “He and the Duke of Crestwood were my closest friends as a boy. Together we came up with the idea of the club and it grew over the years that followed.”

  “And now Northfield will marry Meg,” she said. “And become your brother in truth.”

  “Yes. I admit that was part of the draw of matching them,” he said.

  “But everyone says you will never marry. Of course, likely I won’t either. But for different reasons. Yours is a choice and mine—”

  With a gasp, she stopped talking. Her eyes went wide and she slapped a hand over her mouth, her gaze flitting over to him and going wide and wild.

  Emma wanted nothing more than to sink down under the bench where they sat and disappear for the rest of her life. She had no idea why she had lost control of her tongue. She and Abernathe had been sitting together, having a perfectly lovely conversation. Comfortable, aside from the fact that she couldn’t stop contemplating how utterly handsome he was.

  And then she’d gone and burst out something inappropriate about his lack of desire for marriage. About her own lack of ability to marry. She was an absolute idiot.

  “I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she said when she could find enough breath to speak. “That was entirely out of turn.”

  He was quiet a moment, then he said, “Emma, we were having an honest conversation. I don’t mind having an honest conversation with you. But you cannot truly believe that you will never marry.”

  She pushed to her feet and walked toward the fountain, her hands clenched at her sides. “This is really none of your concern. I forgot myself for a moment. There is nothing else to say.”

  He followed her forward. “Emma.”

  She stiffened. That was the third time he’d called her by her given name. She shouldn’t like it so much. She should correct him.

  She opened her mouth to do so when he pierced her with a hard look and asked, “Why do you think you will never marry?”

  She gasped for air, for words, and he reached out. Suddenly he had her hand in his. She wasn’t wearing gloves, having taken them off for lunch. Neither was he. His skin was rough on hers, his hand a shade darker as it engulfed her own.

  “Not everyone is golden,” she whispered, her voice almost not her own. Her words coming when she didn’t want them to. “I am an old maid, with little to recommend me thanks to…” She trailed off.

  “Thanks to?” he encouraged, his dark eyes still intently focused on her. Like he actually gave a damn about the answer.

  And for a moment she pondered giving it to him. Pondered spilling out every painful fact of her past and her own fractured family to him. But she caught herself before she could. Whatever spell she was under with this man, she wasn’t about to talk about her father with him and give him a reason to laugh at her.

  “I’m a spinster and a wallflower,” she said, pulling her hand away from his at last and wishing she couldn’t still feel the warmth of it. “There is no other reason than that which precludes many women like me from marrying. My mother insists I must wed, of course, to increase our circumstances. She drives me toward it constantly. But it isn’t as easy as just waving my hand and having men fall at my feet.”

  He shook his head slowly. “It’s a funny thing. Here I am trying to avoid a marriage trap and you wish to land in one.”

  “Yes,” she said, then covered her face. “God, I feel like such a fool.”

  “Why?” he said with a laugh.

  She lowered her hands and glared at him. “Really? You ask that question of me?”

  His joviality faded at her pointed question. “I’m sorry if I was glib,” he said, true chagrin on his face. “You helped my sister, helped me. Is there some way I can help you?”

  “Pretend to court me in order to make me attractive to some other man?” she said, then shook her head with a laugh. “No, my lord. There is nothing you can do, though I do thank you for your concern.”

  His brow wrinkled, and for a moment she thought he might say something. But then Meg’s voice came drifting over the garden. “James, I was going to show her the fountain!”

  James took a long step back from her, and Emma found herself a little colder now that he was gone. Whatever seriousness had been
on his face faded, and he turned to his sister with a bright grin. “Well, I beat you to it.”

  Meg swatted his arm playfully. “You never allow me any boon.”

  “I’m sorry, Meg,” he said. “I shall leave you to your friend.” He turned back to Emma with a nod. “Miss Liston, it was a great pleasure.”

  There was sincerity to his tone and to his expression as he nodded at her. Emma gulped hard and said, “Thank you for your company, Your Grace. Good day.”

  “Good day,” he repeated, then strode off toward the house. Leaving Emma with Meg.

  Leaving Emma with a sense of discomfort and a mind full of questions.

  Chapter Five

  James stared at his plate, but he was entirely distracted. Since he’d last encountered Emma Liston a few days before, he had relived their conversation in the garden over and over. Not only had he revealed so much about himself, for he hardly ever discussed his band of tight friends with anyone, let alone a stranger…but he had found himself engaged by her.

  She was not like anyone he’d ever met before. Where most ladies in his circle focused on how to best present themselves, Emma had a refreshing honesty that drew him in.

  He shook his head, pushing thoughts of her away as he looked at his companions. He was sharing supper with Meg and Graham, but neither was talking. Meg pushed her food around her plate with the tines of her fork and Graham was silent.

  James cleared his throat. “We are a thrilling group, aren’t we?”

  Graham grinned at him and Meg straightened up. “We all have something on our minds, it seems,” she said, shooting a quick glance at Graham. He didn’t return it.

  “I know what you two must be thinking of,” James said. “We do have a wedding to plan.”

  To his surprise, Meg stiffened a little at the mention of her upcoming nuptials. He frowned. James wasn’t certain what was going on with his sister. She’d become increasingly odd as of late. Most women would have been giddy to plan a huge Society wedding to a rich, powerful duke who had been a friend for years. Meg seemed entirely disinterested.

  He could only hope that once she and Graham were married, she would calm down a little. Her troubles would fade when she was settled.

  “I was actually thinking more about the country party next week,” Meg said. “I realize it’s already a full house, but I was considering inviting Emma Liston and her mother to fill out the group.”

  “Emma?” he repeated, all the thoughts he’d been trying to stifle returning.

  She nodded. “We had a wonderful time a few days ago. I do like her, James. And I think we could be of help to her, as well.”

  James’s errant mind took him back, once again to their conversation in the garden a few days before. Emma had so much tension on her face when she spoke of needing to wed, of the complications of that drive.

  “James?” Meg asked, intruding into his thoughts.

  “Very well,” he said with a shake of his head. “I see no reason why not. We have the room.”

  She smiled and rose, forcing Graham and him to do the same. “Excellent. While you and Graham have your port, I’ll write her an invitation. And then I’ll likely retire early.” She partially turned toward her fiancé. “Good night, Graham.”

  Graham stepped toward her, but did not take her hand. He merely executed a stiff bow. “Margaret.”

  Meg drew in a little breath, then turned and slipped from the room, leaving the two men alone.

  James slung an arm around Graham’s shoulder. “Port?”

  If Graham had been dull when Meg was around, now he grinned and the man James had known nearly all his life returned. “I’d prefer scotch, truth be told.”

  “Scotch it is.” James laughed as they made their way down the hall to the billiard room. Once inside, James moved to the sideboard to make the drinks.

  “Since we’re not rejoining Margaret, would you like a game?” Graham asked.

  James nodded without looking at him. “We haven’t played in an age.”

  He heard Graham placing the balls into position and turned to hand over a drink while Graham traded him for a cue. They each took a drink and set them aside before James said, “You first, mate.”

  Graham put himself into position and took his shot. As he did so, he said, “What’s on your mind?”

  James arched a brow. “On my mind?”

  Graham straightened. “You have that look. I know that look.”

  James rolled his eyes. “You and Meg aren’t married yet. Can’t pull the concerned older brother act yet.”

  “Why not? I’ve been doing it over ten years already.”

  James half-grinned as he took his own shot, his ball striking both Graham’s cue and the red ball. “Canon,” he said softly.

  “I saw it,” Graham responded with a slight annoyance to his tone. He had always been competitive. It was why Simon didn’t play with him anymore. “So what’s the problem?”

  James leaned his cue against the edge of the table and sighed. “Has Meg spoken much to you about this Emma Liston we were discussing at supper?”

  Graham froze, leaning over the table for his shot. “In truth, Meg and I don’t speak about much at all.”

  For a moment, James’s focus on Emma faded and he stared at his friend. “Is there something wrong between you two?”

  Graham took his shot, but he hit it too hard and it banked off the edge of the table and missed both his targets. He let out a low curse before he straightened up and glared at James.

  “Of course not,” he snapped. “Everything is fine.”

  “Fine,” James repeated slowly.

  Graham nodded. “Of course, we’re planning a wedding, aren’t we? And we’ve been friends for years. It’s a good match, we both know it.”

  James wrinkled his brow. Neither Meg nor Graham seemed very pleased about their position, which wasn’t what he’d ever intended when he suggested the engagement so very long ago.

  “Graham—” he began.

  “You asked about Miss Liston,” Graham interrupted, turning his back so that it was clear the other subject was closed. “Why so interested in her?”

  James pressed his lips together. For now, he would let the topic of the engagement go, but he made note to talk to Meg about it, for she might be more open. “She helped Meg and me with a…situation with Mother at the Rockford ball last week.”

  Graham turned and his eyes were now filled with concern. “A situation. Was she…”

  James nodded. “Very. She’s been having a rough go of it as of late. A few days ago at Meg’s party and again tonight, which is why she didn’t join us.”

  Graham shook his head slowly. There were few people who knew the full ramifications of Lady Abernathe’s issues with drink. Graham was one of them, Simon another…and now Emma Liston.

  Funny how Emma didn’t seem out of place in that intimate list of his closest friends. Even though he hardly knew the girl at all.

  “Emma Liston is a wallflower,” Graham said, his voice becoming sharper, more business-like. “Her grandfather is a viscount. He and my father were cronies, which does nothing to recommend the man, as you know. Her father is estranged. A bad egg, as they say.”

  “I didn’t ask you about her to get a listing of her family’s every move,” James said softly.

  Graham shrugged. “It’s what I do, remember things. I can’t help it, so you might as well use it. Emma Liston is compromised.”

  “Compromised?” James repeated too loudly, rage bubbling up in him unexpectedly at the idea that some other man had touched Emma.

  Graham stared at him. “Not physically compromised. I only mean she’s in a bad position. Her dowry is small, the important members of her family do not acknowledge her and her father does nothing to add to her reputation.”

  James’s heart rate slowly returned to normal. “Well, none of that means much to me.”

  “It should. The girl coul
d benefit if she used anything she knows about your mother against you.”

  James shook his head, a flare of defensive anger rushing through him, even though he’d had the exact same concern about her the night of the Rockford ball. “I don’t think so,” he said. “She’s made no secret of her position, nor has she made any attempt to leverage what she knows about my mother into a betterment of her position.”

  “Except she’s now invited to your country party. A sought after invitation if ever there was one. People are always angling for me to get them one,” Graham said with an arched brow.

  “No, I don’t think so,” James insisted. “She’s invited because Meg has fallen head over heels in friendship with her. And Emma hasn’t been dishonest about her position.”

  “What do you mean?” Graham asked. “She told you about her wayward father?”

  “No,” James admitted, and was surprised by how his interest was aroused by that new information. “But she made it clear her position is precarious. She even made a joke about my pretending to court her to elevate that position.”

  “And you don’t think that was angling?”

  “No,” James said through suddenly clenched teeth. “She was teasing, for God’s sake. I never thought she meant it.”

  Graham stared at him, just stared, for what seemed like an eternity. “You want to do it,” he finally said.

  James drew back. “Do what?”

  “Court her!” Graham said, throwing up his free hand in exasperation.

  “I have no interest in courting her,” James barked back. “I have no interest in courting anyone and you know it.”

  Graham’s face softened and he said, “James—”

  James held up a hand. “We’re not discussing it,” he snapped. “The point is that, yes, I have thought of Emma’s statement. I have. Not because I actually want to court her, but because what she suggested, even half-heartedly, could very well help us both.”

  “I can see how it would help her—you’re the most eligible bachelor in all of London. If you’re seen paying her extra attention, men will circle. She’ll suddenly be in fashion, just like the way you tie your cravat.”