However, if things kept progressing as they had between him and Miss Pageant, he wasn’t sure she would be the one in danger of mending a broken heart when it abruptly ended.

The following week, Emary was bombarded with so many calls that she hadn’t had a spare moment to devote to her fictitious novel, nor add a single stitch to her poorly neglected needlework. At this rate, she feared she’d never have the opportunity to finish her basket of flowers, as surely the entirety of fashionable London had walked through her parents’ front door.

When she said something to that effect to her mother, Lady Armenton had merely shrugged. “What did you expect? When the darling of society becomes covertly and rather suddenly engaged to the heroic Duke of Windwood, people are bound to be curious.”

Emary hadn’t missed the emphasis her mother had put upon suddenly. Her parents, while pleased about the abrupt turn of events, hadn’t been happy with her about keeping such a monumental secret. But when the duke had arrived later that Sunday afternoon to finalize the marriage contract with her father, her subterfuge had been swiftly forgiven.

Unfortunately, since that day, Emary had not seen nor heard from Windwood. He was supposed to be assisting her, so she couldn’t help but wonder what was delaying him. It wasn’t as if he could back out of their arrangement after the first of the banns had already been read.

Unless…

Emary refused to even contemplate the idea that he meant to take this charade all the way to the end of the altar — and leave her there without a groom. She would be in such disgrace afterward that she would have no choice but to retire to the country with her parents and live out the rest of her days as a spinster.

At least I would have enough time to write the book I’m supposed to be working on now, she thought rather uncharitably.

When Windwood was finally shown into the drawing room later that afternoon, a surge of relief so powerful hit Emary that she was somewhat lightheaded from it. She held her breath, hoping that he might dare to take her in his arms and kiss her again, but with her mother present this time, the chances of him doing so were probably rather slim.

Her mother greeted him fondly and he bowed in turn. “My lady.” His head turned and he sought Emary out. She wanted to believe that his eyes softened slightly when they lit on her. “Miss Pageant.”

“Oh, surely there is no need for such formality now that you are betrothed.” Lady Armenton gushed. “You’re practically family, Your Grace. You have leave to call my daughter Emary.”

“Of course,” he concurred. “As she should call me Donovan.”

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone to get better acquainted.” Her mother gave Emary a quick wink before she quietly took her leave.

Emary shook her head and noted dryly, “To imagine that a week ago she would have been horrified to learn that I was here alone with you without my ladies’ maid present.”

She could have sworn she heard her fiancé mutter something along the lines of, “I’m not so sure it’s a good idea now,” before he walked over and sat down beside her. “I’m sorry I’ve been so inattentive of late. I know that having my presence here was part of the deal, but I’m afraid I had some urgent estate matters to take care of.”

She frowned. “I hope that everything is well.”

“For now.” Donovan winced. “But I’m afraid I may have to leave London again rather soon.”

Emary smiled in an effort to put him at ease, although she felt a rush of panic. She couldn’t persuade the duke that she was the perfect woman for him if he wasn’t around to convince. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

His brow smoothed out a bit to allow a half-hearted grin. “So tell me about your writing. If you still intend to put me in my place, that is.”

“Oh, that hasn’t changed,” she replied primly.

“Indeed?” His voice seemed to turn a bit huskier. “Then I suppose that means you still won’t give me any sort of hint?”

She shook her head; her dark curls bouncing about her shoulders. “Now what would be the fun in that, Your Grace?”

Emary’s pulse fluttered when he ran the backs of his fingers across her exposed upper arm. “I thought we agreed that you would call me Donovan.”

Emary swallowed heavily, too distracted to form a coherent sentence when he was sitting so close to her. She could feel the heat from his body burning into her side. It was so intense, like sitting too close to an open flame, and it caused her palms to sweat. It was no wonder she couldn’t put together a coherent thought. Everything this man did scrambled her senses.

“Say it,” he demanded softly.

She shivered.

“Say my name,” he repeated, his hot breath caressing her ear.

Emary wet her dry lips and finally managed to whisper, “Donovan.”

He released a shaky breath and then reached out and cupped her cheek. His eyes were burning with a blue flame. “Someday, very soon, you will be saying my name while in the throes of passion, where rapture so consuming causes your body to tremble. I look forward to that day, sweet Emary.”

Me too, Emary sighed to herself. He leaned forward and licked her earlobe, the sensation causing her lower abdomen to contract and her eyes to slide closed.

Emary sat there for several moments, heart pounding as she waited for him to kiss her, but it wasn’t until Lady Armenton entered the room that the spell was broken and Emary realized that she was alone. The duke had left and she hadn’t even known.

Her eyes popped open almost guiltily when her mother said, “Your future husband has invited us all to the opera to share his private box on Drury Lane this evening. This will be your first public engagement as a betrothed couple,” the viscountess noted. “Just remember that you are not yet married, so there are still certain proprieties that shall still be observed in society.”

Emary nodded her understanding while her face warmed and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered furiously with the idea that in a few short hours she would once again be on Donovan’s arm. She could hardly wait.

Chapter 5

The Theatre Royal on Drury Lane was a fixture of London society, as much as Vauxhall Gardens and Hyde Park. The aristocracy enjoyed their entertainments, and the stage was no exception. Emary had been several times, as her parents also had a private box for viewing. She had always admired the theater’s famed Rotunda and Grand Saloon, but when she entered now with Windwood by her side, any other time she’d traversed the Royal Staircase had been uneventful. She knew this night was the only one that would linger in her memory for years to come.

Amid a flurry of fans and curious, or in some cases, envious glances, followed their progress all the way to the Windwood box. It was situated directly in the middle of the large interior of the theatre and faced the red curtain that would be raised when the performance began. It was, quite literally, the best seat in the house.

Emary glanced over the edge of the balcony and noticed that nearly the entire lower half of the seats were already filled with people anticipating the upcoming entertainment. The buzz of the crowd around them was nearly deafening. It was likely to be a sold out performance. She was thankful it was going to be an intimate affair with the five of them — her and Donovan, his mother, and her parents — although there was room for several more people if they were so inclined.

Emary had been extremely careful with her appearance this evening. She had wanted to make the duke yearn for her the way he’d left her yearning for him in her drawing room earlier. She still trembled when she thought of the little love bite he’d given her ear right before he had departed, leaving her breathless for more.

However, from the way he kept shooting heated glances at her from the moment he’d arrived in his ducal coach with his mother to pick them up to right now, as he took his place beside her, Emary knew her efforts hadn’t been in vain. Her maid had styled her hair into an elegant chignon and left several curls to dangle across her slim neck. She wore an empire style gown of white and red striped silk with short puffed sleeves. Her white, elbow length gloves reached just past her elbow and teased the senses with just a bit of exposed skin. While Donovan was equally resplendent in a white cravat, gold waistcoat, and royal blue cutaway jacket and trousers, it was no wonder they had drawn the attention of several attendees.

Once they were settled, the duke leaned over to whisper in her ear, “You look delectable this evening, Miss Pageant.”

She had to compose herself before she could respond appropriately, “Thank you, Your Grace.” She turned to him with a slight smile. “You look rather handsome yourself.”

The scar running down the left side of his face drew her attention to his eyes, which seemed to burn intently. “How is your writing going?” he asked as the lights began to dim, signaling that the show was about to begin.

“Very well, I should imagine,” she lied easily.

His lips twitched. “That’s it? I’m not even to be granted a title?”

“Oh, I think I will grant you that boon, Your Grace.” She looked at him through her long, dark lashes. “I believe I shall call it, ‘A Seduction at Christmas.’”

He adjusted his position in his seat and gave a soft groan. “I’m sorry I asked.”

She laughed lightly and then turned to face the stage when the curtain was drawn.

Donovan felt confident that he could stand up and walk about during intermission without embarrassing himself. In truth, he was rather thankful for the reprieve when he left to fetch Miss Pageant some punch. He could certainly do with the chance to control his raging body. He’d hardly been able to follow along with the actors on stage for his preoccupation in entertaining some rather lascivious thoughts about the woman at his side.