“Why not? My mother can chaperone Marissa. It’s not like there are any ladies attending tonight that I want to see. And I am sick to death of the marriage-mamas dodging my every step and thrusting their young daughters in my face. Have they no shame?”
Thomas shrugged his shoulders. “Apparently not.”
***
Emma took extra care with her toilette that evening. Rosie outdid herself by sweeping Emma’s hair high on her head and letting long ringlets cascade down her back. Her maid also intertwined burgundy-colored ribbons in her hair. The rose evening gown she chose had burgundy piping and ribbons that were of the same shade as those in her hair. The gown’s ribbons tied high on her waist, accentuating the full swell of Emma’s breasts quite nicely. A devious smile broke out on her face as she imagined His Grace’s eyes bulging out of his head at the sight of her exposed flesh.
“Lordy, Miss, how lovely you look. Every man’s eyes will be upon you this evening.” As Rosie commented, she draped Emma’s matching rose pelisse over her shoulders and pulled up the fur-trimmed hood. “It won’t be long before you catch yourself a husband. No, it won’t indeed, not with you looking so fetching.”
“Thank you, Rosie,” she murmured as she placed her hand on her stomach. It had suddenly decided to harvest butterflies…by the dozens.
Several moments later Emma stood stiffly, glancing out through the large leaded window in the drawing room, waiting for Bella, Amelia, and the dowager duchess to join her. The sun had set and gas lampposts lit by the night sentry cast shadows across the street. The clip-clop of horses’ hooves traveled to her ears as carriages went by. She imagined the occupants were anxious to arrive at their destinations.
Footsteps behind Emma had her twirling around, and she found herself face to face with her nemesis. Her knees weakened, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and ignored the nervous vibration of her hands.
She acknowledged him in a quiet voice. “Your Grace. I did not realize you were accompanying us this evening.” She lied. Rosie had let that snippet drop a few hours earlier. Servants possessed a wealth of information and shared it in an unabashed fashion. At least that was what Rosie told her. Giles, who guarded the duke’s privacy as if he were the king himself, was generally the exception.
The duke cut a fine figure in his white ruffled shirt, white cravat, black waistcoat, and matching jacket. His black breeches hugged every muscle in his thighs and continued down to his stockings and shoes. Emma forced her eyes away from his legs. That was when she noticed one side of his mouth twitched uncomfortably as his gaze raked up and down her body. His eyes rested briefly on her décolletage, then he nodded his head as if approving of her attire.
Wentworth’s deep blue eyes bore into hers. “My, don’t you look fetching this evening. Are you hoping to snag a husband?”
It took all she had not to reveal how much his comment hurt her. Why was he acting mean? He would forever confuse her; one moment he tried seducing her, and the next he insulted her. Tonight she would not let him disturb her.
Emma’s lips spread into a wide smile. “Is that not the point to these social gatherings, Your Grace? Even a girl, born and raised in such a savage place as America, realizes the significance of a London Season and how important it is to catch just the right gentleman.”
He raised his brows. “Indeed.”
“Several I met this past week have caught my eye.” Emma fluttered her lashes and caressed the top of her exposed bosom with her fingers. She smirked in satisfaction when Wentworth’s eyes immediately followed her hand, causing his nostrils to flare. Let him look his fill…all he wanted, because he would never, ever touch her again.
“A certain handsome and brave Major Fontaine has expressed interest in me. He came to call today. Unfortunately, I was indisposed at the time, but he did say he would attend this evening’s soirée. He left his card, requesting a dance.”
She paused, flipped open her fan, and fluttered it while she peered at Wentworth from behind it. “He requested a waltz, no less. What do you make of that, Your Grace?”
The esteemed duke frowned and his face flushed red, causing her pulse to spike. If he reacted this way to the mere mention of her waltzing with another man she could not wait to flirt shamelessly with the major that evening.
“I would say be very, very careful with him.” Thomas paused, pulled his timepiece out of his waistcoat pocket, and frowned. “Fontaine has a certain reputation for seducing unsuspecting young ladies.”
Emma gasped, and bugger all, he noticed her reaction to his words. What he alluded to. He raised his brow and smirked knowingly as she blushed, obviously aware he’d unsettled her.