“Perhaps even sooner than that,” her mother added.
Emary said nothing. They would find out in two short days when the first of the banns would be read.
That is, if the duke followed through on his promise.
The next afternoon, Emary was in the drawing room working on some needlepoint when her mother rushed into the room waving a paper in her grasp. “We have been invited by the duchess and her son to attend church with them on the morrow at St. Paul’s Cathedral!” she announced, nearly out of breath.
Emary hid a pleased smile behind her frame. “How delightful.”
When her mother didn’t respond, she glanced up to see Lady Armenton eyeing her curiously. “Is there something I should know, Emary?”
Emary shrugged. “I shouldn’t think so.” In truth, she wanted to giggle with glee, but to spoil a surprise of this magnitude would just be too awful. It would be best to see her parents’ faces light up when the first of the marriage banns were read. While the duke didn’t imagine it was anything more than a harmless lark, she intended to make it real by the end.
Unfortunately, as London was wont to do, the drawing room soon filled with ladies who wanted the full on dit behind such a special invitation, as nothing was secret in the beau monde. Emary played her part, laughing gaily and making them all wonder as to the reason behind it all, never once letting on that she knew anything about it. She would have loved nothing more than to return to her needlepoint or even escape to the solitude of her room, but she forced herself to sip her tea and present the correct appearances.
When the last of the guests had finally taken their leave, Emary slumped back in her chair, the strain of sitting so stiff and poised for hours upon end having taken its toll.
“My gracious,” her mother remarked as she sat across from her daughter with a similar pose. She had opened her fan and was waving it madly in front of her face. “I don’t believe that we’ve ever had that many visitors in one afternoon! It never ceases to amaze me how fast word travels in London, especially when I was under the impression that it was a personal correspondence.”
“Servants are the web of the city, Mother,” Emary pointed out. “Not to mention the buzz the duke caused last evening by choosing to solely stand up with me, and for the waltz at that.”
“Yes, you’re right, of course,” Lady Armenton murmured. She rose to her feet. “I suppose I should go to the kitchens to make sure Cook has everything prepared for supper. I’m nigh on famished after such an invasion.”
Emary couldn’t help but laugh as her mother took her leave. She stood up as well, but she didn’t get the chance to return to her neglected needlepoint before the butler entered with a card upon a silver salver. “You have a guest, my lady.”
She wanted to groan. Another one? She didn’t even glance at the card, just waved her hand. “Send them in, if you please.”
He hesitated a moment before he bowed and took his leave.
Emary took the opportunity to stretch the kinks out of her back. She raised her arms above her head and sighed in delight as her muscles loosened. She heard a strange sound, like some sort of groan, so she lowered her arms and turned to greet the caller. Her grin widened when she spied the duke standing in the doorway, but when she noticed the look of torture on his face, his scar standing out in stark, white contrast, she felt her smile falter slightly.
This didn’t bode well. “Your Grace.” She greeted him with a curtsy, and then asked cautiously, “Are you quite well?”
Donovan wanted to burst out laughing. Was he well? Pretty damn far from it, actually. He had been rather well and composed — until he’d walked in the room and saw Emary with her arms up in the air, back arched, with those enticing, full breasts thrust forward, barely contained by the pale yellow silk of her gown. A surge of lust had immediately rushed through him with enough power that it nearly knocked him to his knees and stole the air from his lungs.
He’d met countless French forces on the field of battle, yet he knew it was this
slip of a woman who was going to be the death of him. After having some time to consider her proposal, he had been fully prepared to call on her and put an end to this foolish charade. It was the reason for the church invitation, not because he had intended on going through with the banns being read, but because he wasn’t. But one look at her tempting visage now and every bit of his carefully prepared speech vanished into thin air.
She looked so damned delectable standing there, uncertain of what he might say, when she really should have been concerned over what he intended to do.
Without a word, he reached her in three long strides. He cupped her face in his palms and crashed his mouth into hers. She stiffened slightly at first, but then her body eased into the embrace. She clutched his shoulders and moaned deep in her throat. Donovan instantly went hard.
He deepened the kiss, coaxing her lips to part with his tongue. When she opened to him, he delved inside, determined to taste her. She was sweet, like honey and tea and smelled like fresh, ripe peaches. He forced himself to go easy with her, not taking any more than she would allow, but according to her urgent response to him, her tongue daring to sneak forward and mate with his, he knew that wasn’t an issue.
Donovan dared to slowly slide his hands farther down her body. He paused when he reached her ribcage. He boldly reached out and ran the pads of his thumbs across her firm nipples, which were eagerly pressing against the material of her dress. How he yearned to expose those enticing mounds of flesh to his gaze, to feast upon them properly, but he managed to tear himself away before he found himself acting upon the impulse. He took a full step backward.
His breath was heavy as he looked at her. Her brown eyes were glazed over with unrequited passion that lay dormant beneath the cloak of an innocent. Her lips were swollen and damp from his kisses. It made him want to return for another sampling, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop there if he gave in a second time. The first was nearly his undoing.
“If that’s how you say hello,” she whispered huskily. “I should wish for you to call upon me every day.”
He gave a chuckle, however strained it might have been. “In that case, I daresay you’d enjoy it when I said good morning.” Her eyes widened slightly, and he had to look away from the curious anticipation he read there.
She blinked several times, finally regaining enough of her composure to sit down while gesturing for him to do the same. He took a seat across from her. After taking a deep breath, she said, “I can call for some fresh tea if you wish.” She gestured to the teacart in the corner. “We’ve had a particularly busy morning entertaining guests, so I fear what’s left will be cold by now.”
He waved a hand. “There’s no need to trouble yourself, truly. I realize that I’m calling later than is usual. I just…” He paused. He searched her lovely face, and just like the night before at the ball, he said the exact opposite of what he’d planned. “Wanted to see you.” He cleared his throat. “Before tomorrow. To make sure that you weren’t having any last minute reservations about our deal.”
She reached up and put a hand to her chest as if trying to calm her heart, and then dropped it back to her lap. “No, I’m not. I have a point to prove and I intend to follow through on my promise.”
He felt a reluctant smile tug at his lips. “I expected nothing less.” He leaned back against the settee and crossed one leg over the other, folding his arms across his chest.
“Are you having reservations, Your Grace?” she said it evenly, but Donovan heard a hint of challenge in her voice.
“Not at all,” he lied. Without wishing to dwell on the panic that had threatened all morning, he changed the subject. “Tell me about this story you’re planning to write.”
“And ruin the surprise of having you read the book when it’s published?” she returned rather coyly. “I should think not.”
He rolled his eyes, and then glanced about the room. When he spied the abandoned needlepoint in the corner, he had to snort, recalling that had been one of the things he’d despised about searching for a wife — women and their empty pursuits. “I wonder if you will even have enough time to complete the task at hand when there are so many other feminine pursuits for you to finish.”
She clasped her hands in her lap. “As I explained before, Your Grace, that is where I shall need your assistance. As it stands, I can’t possibly find any time to devote to pen and paper, but once our sham engagement is announced, that will put an end to most of the events I must attend as a lady in search of a husband.”
He lifted a brow. “You are still that determined to prove me wrong?”
Her lips lifted in the corners. “You’ll find that I am determined about many things, Your Grace. The ability that women can support themselves independently is just one of them.”
