Wentworth burst out laughing, shaking Emma’s hand off his arm. “You are so conceited and full of yourself. But still, I would like to hear of your travels when we are in private and can talk freely.”
Emma wanted to hear Myles’s stories, too. But when she wasn’t invited, a bit of the sparkle wore off the day.
***
Myles’s eyes wandered freely up and down Emma’s body, a half-smile quirking his mouth. The intensity in his friend’s dark green eyes as they scanned his ward caused Thomas to clench his hands into fists. Out of the blue, he wanted to beat his old friend to a pulp. Instead, he maintained a smile for the sake of appearances.
“Miss Hamilton.” Myles bowed with noble grace. “You look lovelier than ever.” He reached out, took her gloved hand, and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “I trust this past year has been good to you?”
Emma seemed to take her time retrieving her hand from Myles’s grip, and then she curtsied oh so gracefully. Thomas scowled. Could she make it any plainer she found Myles to her liking?
“This past year was wonderful, such as it was, though I missed my papa terribly.” She eyed Thomas with her pale blue eyes, then looked at Myles again. “Thank you for your interest, Lord Norwich.”
“If you two are done,” Thomas said flatly as he tried to ignore his jealously over Emma’s excitement of seeing Myles. “we should board, or the ship will sail without us.” He turned to Myles, one brow arched. “Am I to presume you’ll be traveling with us?”
Myles slapped Thomas on the back and laughed. “Yes, you can, Thomas. Yes, you can.”
“Good.”
Myles presented his arm for Emma.
“Then shall we?” Thomas presented his arm also.
Emma glanced back and forth between him and Myles. Her eyes hinted at mischief. To Thomas’s utter amazement, she took the arm Myles offered instead of his.
This breach of etiquette would have to be addressed before Emma made her debut into society. His status as duke was higher than Myles’s, and her choice would slight Thomas in the eyes of society. The look he sent Myles should have put his old friend in his place. No such luck.
Myles grinned, winked at him, and turned to parade Emma up the gangplank. Neither glanced back to see if he followed. Thomas had a strong urge to rush forward and wrap his hands around Myles’s neck.
What did Thomas care if Myles took an interest in Emma? As Myles had pointed out months ago before his wanderings across America, he might be interested in marrying her. Thomas’s heart skipped a beat at the thought.
He would probably die of heart failure before he managed to marry her off. Thomas truly believed Emma had no idea how breathtaking she was, and that could only be deemed a good thing. Nothing was worse than a conceited lady who plied her feminine wiles on all the gentlemen, only to leave them panting in her wake. It would be in his best interest to remember that himself.
Not that Thomas intended to fall for her charms. Quite the opposite––she affected him not at all. That’s right. Keep telling yourself that. He still remembered the feel of her waist in his hands when he steadied her. The feel of her hand in his, the feel…
Clenching his teeth, the duke pushed those thoughts from his mind and scowled.
The three of them stood, side by side on deck, waving to the crowd on shore as the ship set sail. Though he frowned, Thomas’s pulse soared. England. He could hardly wait to be home, to visit one of his clubs, smoke a decent cigar, drink nicely aged brandy, and play a friendly game of cards. When the card game with Emma’s father came to mind he tamped it down. He told himself he had nothing to feel bad about.
He forced his attention to the land they’d left, watched Boston slowly become a distant shadow on the horizon, and hoped one day he’d see it again. At the last minute he had decided to hold onto Emma’s father’s fleet of whaling ships. He had sold all properties except for the building on the waterfront that housed his offices, the warehouse, and the gem of a sea captain’s house he could not part with.
Confident he had left his affairs here in order and in good hands, he was traveling back home to put his own estates in order––estates neglected for so many years by his father, and then by Thomas due to his lack of funds. Well, no more. He would personally see them put back in order––back to the point that his estates thrived along with the people working his lands. It was the least he could do after the years of suffering his tenants and staff had endured.
He’d left all responsibilities in the hands of his younger brother Sebastian, believing it would be good for the lad. Sebastian’s letters revealed that improvements were being made, not only to his country estate in Dover, but also to his home on Cavendish Square, which had looked tired and outdated. Certainly not the home one would expect of a duke.