The Daring Duke

by Jess Michaels

  Emma stared at her, shocked firstly that Meg would want her brother tied to a woman with so little in the way of prospects, with no influence and with questionable family connections. But also shocked that what Meg said revealed something of her own heart.

  Because in that moment Emma realized some part of her also wished that this courtship were real. That what had just happened between her and James in his office was the beginning of something greater, not just a way for him to hide from her.

  “Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Emma asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Why is your brother so opposed to marriage?” She knew some of that answer, of course. He’d told her about the terrible consequences of the loveless marriage of his own mother, but she knew there was more.

  And she was willing to go behind his back to discover what that more was.

  Meg let out a long, pained sigh. “Father was so cruel to him.”

  Emma drew back in surprise. She’d never known the previous Duke of Abernathe, for he had died long before she came out in Society, long before she was being taught or grilled about those who were her betters. But she’d never assumed he’d been cruel.

  “How?” she whispered. “Why?”

  Meg shifted in discomfort. “James wouldn’t want me to speak about this. He would consider it a betrayal, I know. His past is private—only his closest friends know even a glimpse of it.”

  Emma nodded slowly, disappointed that she would be kept from the truth, even if she understood Meg’s reasons to keep her in the dark.

  “Do you care for him?”

  Emma gulped in a breath at the unexpected question and the focused way Meg was staring at her. “I-I—you know it is a ruse.”

  Her friend was watching her and her expression was serious. “Yes, I do. But sometimes when I’ve seen you together, I’ve sensed something deeper than what could be construed as a ruse. I wonder if you care for James. If there is any part of you that wishes there could be more between you than just some elaborate game he has concocted in order to protect himself…to protect you?”

  Emma stared at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap. Meg was dancing too close to the truth, too close to the edge. Emma didn’t want to reveal so much of her heart, and yet she found herself unable to do anything but just that.

  “I do care for him,” she whispered. Saying the words out loud stole her breath and she struggled before she continued. “Even though I know there is no hope for a future with him. There is something about him that makes me want…more.”

  Meg smiled, and there was no mistaking her triumph. “I knew it.”

  “But Meg, there is no indication whatsoever that he feels anything for me,” Emma said swiftly. “Nor that he has a desire to change any of his plans for me. You must know that it is a losing battle. The best I can do is follow what he wants, try to use his attention to find another match.”

  Meg wrinkled her brow, and there was understanding on her face. Something that went deeper than a mere empathy for Emma. “Yes, I know that sometimes we can’t have what we truly want,” she said softly. “Though I would wish more for you and for my brother than an arrangement you didn’t want and a lonely, empty existence.”

  “I appreciate your thought, but…I must accept what is,” Emma said. “I know that.”

  Meg bent her head and took a long breath. “James was not the firstborn son,” she said without looking at Emma. “Our father was married before our mother.”

  “He was?”

  “Yes. His first wife died giving him his heir. And then the boy died years later, as well, in an accident.”

  Emma caught her breath. “That poor man.”

  Meg shrugged. “I do not know how he was with that first family. It’s hard to imagine he was ever kind or loving, for I certainly never saw that capacity in him. But whether he truly cared for his first family or not, our father was a duke and continuing his line was his obsession. He needed an heir, so before his mourning period was even over, he courted and married our mother. They produced James in short order. I was an attempt at a spare, and a disappointment to him, for certain.”

  Emma reached for her, catching her hand. “I’m sure not, Meg. No one could do anything but like you.”

  Meg’s smile was sad. “Thank you, Emma, but I promise you my father did not. He used to tell me so to my face before he stopped talking to me entirely when I was fourteen.”

  “He stopped talking to you?” Emma repeated, her jaw dropping at the very idea of such cruelty.

  Tears leapt to Meg’s eyes but she blinked them back. “He said I was my mother’s problem. But it wasn’t just me. He didn’t like any of us. He despised us for being the replacements for the family he truly desired. In truth, I appreciate being ignored. James wasn’t and he bore the brunt of our father’s hatred. One of my earliest memories is the duke slapping James across the face so hard across the face that he split his lip.”

  “How old was he?” Emma whispered.

  “Eight? Perhaps nine?” Meg swallowed hard. “As my brother bled and cried, Abernathe berated him for not being Leonard, our half-brother. The true heir, as our father always called him. He loathed James and that broke my brother’s heart.”

  Emma covered her mouth with her hands and held back a sob of pain at the story she was being told. She could hardly imagine how much that must have hurt James.

  “He hated my brother for being who he was. And James grew to hate him in return. He does not want to be like our father,” Meg continued.

  Emma nodded. “I can see why he wouldn’t after what you say he endured.”

  Meg let out a long, heavy sigh. “Our father only wanted him to carry on his legacy. And so James’s desire is to end that legacy once and for all. Not marrying is a punishment for the previous Abernathe, one exacted after his death. Or perhaps it is a penance, for our father, for James himself.” Meg shivered and at last a tear slid down her cheek. “So now you know the truth.”

  Emma put an arm around her friend and stroked her hair as Meg rested her head on Emma’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry you both went through such an ordeal,” she said softly.

  Meg nodded and let out a sigh. But as she comforted her friend, Emma found herself thinking of James. What Meg had told her made everything she knew about him, everything she saw that he didn’t want her to see, make perfect sense. And she felt for him. She cared for him.

  Even though both those things were incredibly dangerous to her own well-being, she still felt them, and she still wished that there was something she could do to ease his pain.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Avoiding Emma didn’t help. James fisted a hand against his desk top and glared at it as if it had done something to offend him. And in truth, he was angry at himself. After their prior encounter twenty-four hours ago, James had tried to stay away from Emma, hoping it would reduce this strange sensation in his chest. But it hadn’t.

  Sitting far from her at supper the night before had only made him wonder what she was saying to the gentleman she was seated beside. Later, when games were played, he had only watched, hating that he wanted to congratulate Emma when she won or give her advice when she was losing a hand of whist.

  And when he had been asked about her—coyly, by Lady Montague, who had sidled up to him with her batting eyelashes and inviting smiles—saying glowing things about Emma was just too easy.

  “Idiot,” he muttered to himself as he flexed his fist open and stretched his stiff fingers.

  “What have you done now?” Graham asked as he entered James’s office and shut the door behind himself.

  James shook his head. This felt like such a private topic. Too private, even for his best friend. But when he looked up at Graham, he knew he would discuss it. Graham had always been able to milk the truth from him. He never rested until he had. It was why he was more like a brother to James than just a friend.

  “I have no idea wh
at I’ve done,” James muttered. “Something entirely foolish, it seems.”

  Graham’s teasing expression slipped to something more serious and he took a spot across from James and leaned forward, draping his elbows over his knees. “What’s this about? You’ve been out of sorts for days.”

  James tilted his head back and stared up at the elaborately carved ceiling. He let out a long breath, but couldn’t find the words to explain what he wasn’t certain he entirely understood himself.

  “Is this about that woman? Emma Liston?” Graham asked.

  James stared at him, taken aback by Graham’s gentle tone. His expression was no different. Graham already seemed to know the answer to the question he’d asked. James gritted his teeth. “Yes,” he admitted softly.

  Of course Graham seemed unsurprised by that answer. “I see. I thought you had that all worked out, that your ruse was perfectly planned. What’s wrong?”

  James pushed to his feet and walked away. “You needn’t gloat, you know. I hear it in your tone.”

  “Why would I gloat?” Graham asked. “Unless I was right and you’ve fallen in love with the girl.”

  James pivoted to face him, feeling all the color drain from his face. “In love with her? No, of course not. Of course not. Of course I don’t love her.”

  “Of course,” Graham repeated. “You say ‘of course’ three or four times and it makes your lack of feeling toward her infinitely clear. So you are not in love with her, of course not. Then what is it? Her pushy mother? The strain of lying to everyone? She trods on your feet when you dance together? What is it?”

  James looked down to find his foot tapping wildly and he forced himself to stop before he ground out, “She can…see me.”

  Graham wrinkled his brow. “See you?”

  Now that it had been said, James wished he could take it back. Oh, Graham knew his history, as did Simon. But they never spoke of it. He never let it affect what he did or what he took or how he behaved. Now he was about to lay something bare and he wasn’t pleased about it.

  “She sees what is real,” he clarified. “Not just what I choose to show.”

  “Such as?” Graham pressed after a pause that felt like it stretched for an eternity.

  “She said she saw sadness in me,” James whispered, trying not to react to that claim once again and failing, just as when she’d said it and it had felt like she’d slipped her soft hand around his heart and squeezed.

  Graham’s lips parted. “I see.”

  “It is…entirely disconcerting.” His voice sounded choked and his throat was tight.

  “Of course it would be, to be exposed in such a way by a woman who you’ve really only begun to know in the past few weeks.”

  James nodded, but in truth he didn’t feel like that. Sometimes it felt as though he’d known Emma a lifetime.

  “I don’t want her to see,” he said, more to himself than to Graham.

  Graham let out a sigh. “But what she says is true, isn’t it?”

  James shut his eyes, not wanting to look at his best friend. “Of course not,” he lied. “I’m the life of every party, you know that better than most.”

  “Oh yes,” Graham said. “You dance and you laugh, you take risks and you seduce the ladies. You are, on the surface, every joyful and carefree thing in the world. But I know you.”

  “Yes, you do,” James admitted, looking at him at last. “Most people only see me at my best, but you and Simon have seen me at my worst.”

  “We have. I saw you after your father’s fit when your marks weren’t perfect.”

  James flinched. “He hit me so hard, I thought he’d knocked my teeth out.”

  “I wanted to kill him,” Graham said, his face growing red with just the memory.

  “You would have, if Simon hadn’t held you back,” James said with a shake of his head and the shadow of a smile.

  “And I saw a great many other days when the previous Duke of Abernathe treated you like a dog and not his son. I saw you when your father died,” Graham continued.

  “You and Simon were there for it all. It’s why I arranged the union with Meg,” James said. “I wanted one of you to be my brother in truth.”

  A shadow crossed Graham’s face briefly, but he pushed it aside. “I will always be your brother,” he said softly. “No matter what happens.”

  “And I appreciate that,” James said, sliding a hand through his hair. “But it’s different with Emma. As you said, I’ve only known her for less than a month. Having her be so perceptive is…I don’t know.”

  “Well, maybe that is worth something, James,” Graham pressed. “Maybe the discomfort is a sign that it is time to be real. To allow someone else to see past the exterior. Maybe this is an opportunity.”

  “What are you suggesting?” James asked. “That I make this courtship real, that I consider marrying her, despite all the vows I’ve made to the contrary?”

  Graham shrugged. “I always thought your drive to avoid wedlock punished you more than it could ever punish a dead man.”

  James considered the comment a moment. Meg had said something similar and he’d dismissed it, but now it was harder. He could truly picture what they each suggested. There was a flash of fantasy through his mind. Of a life that would be possible with Emma. One with pleasure and laughter…but also vulnerability. The more she knew him, the more she would see. It wouldn’t just be hints of sadness then. She would know his anger, his pain, his fear…

  He frowned. “No, I don’t think so,” he said.

  Graham pressed his lips together in concern. “Well, then you only have two more options. You can abandon your plan completely…”

  James shook his head. “No, that would hurt her. I don’t want to hurt her.”

  Graham arched a brow, as if that statement proved something on its own. Then he continued, “Your other option is to make tonight a big show. Play out the ruse, give her so much attention that it is clear she is desirable. Once that’s done, let her go to pursue whatever options come out of it.”

  James nodded. He knew Graham was right but the knowledge felt…hollow somehow. He pictured Emma finding someone else to love, to marry, to share all her passion that was just under the surface and he felt…empty.

  But then, he’d always been empty in truth, no matter how he pretended otherwise.

  “I’ll think about it,” he said.

  Before Graham could answer, there was a light knock on his door. He turned to face it and said, “Enter.”

  The door opened and Emma stood on the other side. She looked at him and his heart actually stuttered. She was dressed for the upcoming ball, and the blue color of the gown she wore brought her eyes to life.

  “Emma,” he breathed.

  She turned her head and seemed to notice Graham for the first time. She actually jumped. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were here, Your Grace.”

  Graham sent James a look filled with meaning. “I was actually just leaving, Miss Liston. A pleasure to see you again.”

  He executed a small bow and then slipped past her and left them alone. She entered the room at last and slid the door shut behind her.

  He flashed to the previous day when they’d been alone in this room. To tasting her, to bringing her pleasure. God, how he wanted to do it again.

  But she cleared her throat and said, “James, do you want me to leave?”

  Emma watched James’s expression change at her question. When she entered the room, it had been an open one, a heated one. Now a guard came down over him and his voice was hard as he said, “You’ve only just arrived, Emma. Why would I wish for you to leave?”

  She shook her head. “Not leave this room. Leave your home. Leave the party. Go back to London with my mother.”

  His eyes went wide. “This is the second time you’ve suggested you leave here. Why are you bringing it up again?”

  There was a hint of desperation in his tone now
that she understood. It made her want to move forward, into his arms. It made her want to touch his face and sooth him. She didn’t.

  “James, we agreed to a ruse, but this…this is getting out of hand, isn’t it?”

  He folded his arms. “How so?”

  She almost threw up her hands in frustration at his reaction. “Well, you aren’t exactly pleased with me, are you?”

  He moved forward and she stopped breathing. “Not with you, Emma. With myself.”

  She blinked at that unexpected response and stared up into his face. His emotions were so tangled there she couldn’t determine one or another above them all.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  “Damn it,” he burst out, and turned away from her. He walked to the fire and stared into it. She wanted to say something, to push, but she didn’t. She forced herself to remain still and steady, waiting for him.

  Finally, he turned. He stared at her. He looked her up and down and made her feel stripped bare. Naked emotionally as well as physically. Then he made a soft sound in the back of his throat and he was moving on her.

  He caught her arms, drew her against him and lowered his mouth to hers. She lifted into him, melting into his heated kiss, surrendering to the power of it and of him. This wasn’t what she’d come here for, but she couldn’t resist it. As dangerous as that admission was, now that the bottle had been uncorked, she could no longer fit her feelings back inside.

  He drew back at last and looked down at her, panting. “You were not supposed to be irresistible, Emma. I don’t want you to be.”

  She shivered as he pulled away from her. He kept his back to her and she had no idea what to do or say.

  An answer she did not have to find when the door to the study flew open and her mother burst into the room. Emma’s heart sank at the bright and hopeful expression on her face. One that fell when she saw James far across the room and Emma where she stood.

  “Oh, excuse me, Your Grace,” Mrs. Liston said, sending a side glance to Emma. “I heard my daughter was seen entering this room, but I had no idea you were with her.”