The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga)(39)

***

“I can’t believe you convinced me to attend Almack’s, of all places,” Amesbury complained to his two friends as he wiped perspiration from his brow.

The fact that Amesbury was sweating perplexed Thomas since the evening air possessed a chill. When he looked closely at Amesbury, he saw that all color had drained from his face and he appeared somewhat shaky. Perhaps he’d suggest they leave.

“Your subscription has not lapsed. Besides, you need to spend more time with Lady Beth before you wed,” Myles said as he nudged Amesbury forward. “The poor dear looks at you with such adoration––followed by anguish when you ignore her.”

“I know. I’m a terrible person. She deserves better,” Amesbury croaked out.

Myles snorted. “You’re a marquess. How much better can she do?”

Amesbury sighed. “That’s not what I mean. She deserves someone who likes her and respects her and enjoys her company.”

“You don’t like her?” Thomas was shocked, to say the least, by his friend’s comment. How could anybody not like Lady Beth?

“I don’t even know her; how can I like her?” Amesbury remarked.

“Easily remedied if you spend time with her,” Myles added as he surveyed the crowded room.

“Help me break it off,” Amesbury pleaded with his two best friends.

“Break it off?” Thomas said a tad too loud, causing several people to look their way. “Are you out of you mind?” he asked softly. “You cannot break it off; she will be ruined. Only she can decide to end it, and I highly doubt she will. Nor would I expect her father to allow her to do so. You are, after all, an extremely wealthy marquess.”

“I don’t know if I can go through with it,” Amesbury said.

Thomas and Myles exchanged shocked looks.

“Let’s stay an hour,” Thomas pleaded. “That should be a respectable enough time. Afterwards, we can go to Brooks, have a real gentleman’s drink. What do you say?”

Once again Amesbury swiped perspiration from his brow.

“Fine.”

***

Restless and unable to sleep, Thomas scanned the books in the library, looking for anything that caught his eye. Just as his fingers curled around the spine of a collection of poems by Lord Byron his heart thundered strangely. He did not usually read poetry or feel in tune with its sentiments. Certainly not love poems. Yet here he was, and as he read

‘She walks in beauty, like the night’ his thoughts turned to Emma…

Was he in love with Emma?

And no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the next words, she would not leave his thoughts. Damn Emma and his physical attraction to her. Perhaps he would not be so smitten if he got to know her better and saw her flaws.

Resigned to this train of thought, and drawn by the poetry, he took a seat directly in front of the fire still blazing in the hearth, using the light from the flames to illuminate the pages.

Shortly thereafter, all air left his lungs as he heard the light patter of feet. His heart stopped as well when the woman who invaded his every thought entered the library holding a candle. So intent was Emma’s interest in scanning the numerous volumes filling the bookshelves she did not spy him peeking over the back of the chair. That suited Thomas perfectly. His awareness heightened when he noticed that her long white nightgown with open robe did little to hide what was beneath.

His heart pounded against his chest, and heat pooled in his loins. She turned sideways, allowing the light from the low flames in the fireplace to illuminate her perfectly round breasts that jutted out from her slim athletic frame, as if seeking something or someone. The air was chilly in the room, and he noticed her nipples, peaked and pebbled against the thin fabric.

It took every ounce of control Thomas possessed to stay seated. His fingers burned to stroke his thumb across her hardened nipples. His mouth ached to taste Emma’s full pink lips, to nibble her long graceful neck. Every nerve in his body quivered with need as he rose quietly from his seat. Placing his book down on the chair, he strode across the room. Everything about her beckoned him. He could no more stop himself from going to her than a honeybee could ignore plucking nectar from a flower.

“Emma,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him. The sweetness of her form caused a groan to escape his lips. She felt better than he’d imagined.

Her entire body stiffened one muscle and tendon at a time. He silently cursed himself for being foolish and bold. She was an innocent and she was letting him know his behavior was unacceptable.

As Thomas opened his mouth to apologize he found there was no need.