The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga)(29)

There was no escaping the sound of Emma’s sudden distressed intake of breath. Thomas felt a sharp pang of guilt in his chest, compelling him to smooth things. “Please accept my apology, Emma. That was uncalled for. You have been nothing but above proper since we met.”

“Thank you, Wentworth.”

“It’s ‘Your Grace’ this evening,” he corrected.

“Pardon my blunder,” Emma muttered. The nerve of him––to be so rude as to correct her publicly. He could have said it quietly out of earshot of others. Instead a few ladies and gentlemen, standing within earshot, stared at her in shock.

At that moment there was nothing about her that wanted to call him ‘Your Grace.’ He did not deserve the accolade. How dare he voice his criticisms aloud for his mother or anyone else to overhear?

Emma fought the anger firing up inside her belly. How dare he take her to task about her manners? Why, Wentworth was the one needing manner reform. Even though it was deemed bad manners to refuse someone a dance if she had spots open on her dance card, she determined if ‘Wentworth’ asked her, she would smile innocently and politely refuse.

Sudden panic seized Emma’s throat as the duke began making introductions. Could she possibly speak eloquently? Why, oh why, did her mouth feel as though she swallowed a spoonful of sand?

“Your Grace.” Wentworth bowed before the host and then turned with liquid grace to the duchess. “Your Grace, it is an honor to be here.” He bowed and turned to his mother. “May I present my mother, the Dowager Duchess of Wentworth?” After those introductions were concluded, he pivoted to Emma, his eyes silently giving her courage. He took her gloved hand in his. “Your Graces, may I present my ward, Miss Emma Hamilton, from Boston.”

Emma delivered a perfect curtsy, then rose. “Your Grace,” she nodded her head to the duke then turned and nodded to the duchess. “Your Grace.” Before she could ascertain what came next, Wentworth led her away…and into the grandest ballroom she had ever seen. The walls seemed to expand to make room for the formally attired gentlemen and the ladies dressed in the most exquisite ball gowns imaginable.

Desperate to gather her wits, Emma inhaled as deeply as she was able––not easy with her corset––and let the air out silently. Then she wished she hadn’t breathed so deeply. The overpowering aroma from the flower arrangements had her head tingling. Amelia and Bella glided toward them with wide smiles on their faces.

“I almost fell forward during my curtsy.” Bella blushed. “Fortunately Sebastian pulled me back without much ado. At least I pray no one noticed.”

“Did you hear the whispers? Some say the Prince will be here tonight,” Amelia confided, her eyes wide with excitement.

“He might. He usually puts in an appearance at the opening ball,” Wentworth said, his voice carefully neutral. “But with him, anything is possible.”

Did Wentworth not find it exciting to see the Prince? Emma most certainly did. And then her stomach dropped. Could her constitution take the excitement of meeting the Prince? She would surely swoon.

“Wentworth,” his mother broke in, “please be a dear and escort me to Lady Smiley and Mrs. Garland.”

He turned to Emma and his sisters and bowed. “Excuse me, ladies.” Wentworth eyed his brother. “Sebastian, duty calls.”

Mesmerized by the masculine yet graceful way the duke strolled across the room, his mother on his arm, it took Emma a moment to realize Sebastian was speaking to her.

“Emma.” Sebastian cleared his throat. “When the dancing begins you must promise me the first set.”

“Yes. I would be delighted to, my lord.” She smiled into his handsome face, trying to see him and not how he resembled the duke.

“Oh, look,” Bella gasped. “Here comes Myl . . . I mean Lord Norwich and Lord Amesbury.”

Myles acknowledged Emma first by sweeping her a decadent bow. She tried not to see the hurt in Bella’s eyes. “Miss Hamilton, it is a pleasure to see you again. I trust you are recovered from our long ordeal at sea?”

Emma curtsied. “Indeed, my lord, I am. And I trust you are as well?” He took her proffered hand and raised it to his lips, brushing her knuckles lightly.

He grinned, “What happened to ‘Myles?’ I thought we were on a first name basis.”

“Surely it is improper to speak so in public?”

“Bloody propriety,” Myles said, and Emma covered her mouth to stifle her laugh.

“Miss Hamilton, may I introduce you to my good friend––Wentworth’s friend as well.”