Duke of Dishonor: Lords of Scandal Page 4

  Bloody hell. How had he stayed away from this woman for so long?

  His manhood was thickening and lengthening. Shouldn’t he be too tired for that sort of excitement?

  He gripped his thighs to keep his hands to himself.

  Because if he lifted them, all his resolve would melt away.

  And he couldn’t allow that to happen. Not with her. How did a man touch a woman he’d wronged?

  There was an energy in the air that Emily could feel like a physical touch.

  Dishonor’s hands had been exquisitely gentle, his breath warm, the heat from his body seeping into her side. And yet, there was something more powerful, electrifying, dancing from his fingertips into her skin when he’d pulled out those pins.

  She closed her eyes. He’d saved her for her father’s sake.

  But in her fantasies tonight, she’d surely imagine that he’d saved her because… Another blush infused her cheeks. Fortunately, it was getting too dark to see. But she’d dream that he loved her, that he was her knight in shining armor. Of course, her sisters could save themselves. And they now had husbands in the event that they couldn’t.

  Emily dropped her arms. Surely, this man who seemed able to conquer the world would want a woman who was just as strong.

  She was trying.

  She glanced at him. He looked tired but still handsome. Her hand pressed to her stomach.

  “How did you know I needed to be rescued?” She tried to turn to look at him but there wasn’t much room for her to pivot on the seat. “Again.”

  “I overheard a plot whilst I was spying. I am trying to find all the thieves…” He shrugged.

  Her breath caught. In an effort to save her entire family, he’d stumbled upon information to save her specifically and he’d come to her aid. “And the last time?”

  “I was following your uncle for the same purpose.”

  The carriage rolled to a stop. She almost didn’t wish to leave. But he opened the door and handed her out, paying the driver. In a moment, he had her up the stairs, banging on the front knocker with an insistence that might have been frightening if she didn’t feel so safe next to him.

  She didn’t even realize she’d moved closer until her arm brushed his chest.

  But without a word, he lowered his hand to her back.

  His eyes were scanning the street and the alley even as he knocked again.

  “So is it a coincidence that you have saved me twice?”

  “Not entirely,” he answered just as the door opened a crack.

  He didn’t elaborate as he gave it a firm push, the butler just barely moving out of the doorway as Dishonor ushered her inside without invitation. Then again, she did live here.

  “Emily,” Avery screeched from the top of the stairs. “Holy Mother Mary, it’s Emily!”

  For some reason, his hand tightened on her back for a moment before he let her go.

  Within seconds, her family flooded the entry. All of them. Her sisters, her cousin, her brothers-in-law, even her fake aunt who’d quit and returned to their employ.

  She was dragged into several hugs as people talked over one another.

  She passed from person to person until she looked back over her shoulder. Dishonor stood exactly where she’d left him, staring at her.

  She drew in a breath and held up her hand to call for silence.

  The room fell quiet. A nervous flutter started in her chest as she looked around. For the first time, she wondered what the consequences of her adventure might be.

  Bash was the first to break the silence. “What just happened?”

  “I was in the garden, thinking—” she started.

  Noise erupted again. A shower of words crashed over her.

  “How could you.”

  “Shouldn’t be outside.”

  “It’s not safe.”

  She didn’t answer as she crossed over to Dishonor once again. “Now you know why we had to redo my hair.”

  Those words made the cacophony of noise cease in a second.

  “I do see,” he responded with a slight smile. “Are they always like this?”

  She shrugged. “I’m the least useful of the sisters so—”

  “Never say that again.” His voice was quiet, almost tender. “You were so brave tonight.”

  Her heart nearly stopped in her chest. She’d needed someone to say those words to her. “Thank you.”

  “Again. You’re welcome.” He touched her back once again. It was a small gesture, but Bash clearly caught it, his gaze narrowing.

  Emily ignored her brother-in-law’s disapproving glare. “I need to ask you something.” She reached up then and touched his biceps with her fingertips. The intimacy made her sister Isabella gasp, but the room remained silent.

  “Yes?”

  She licked her lips, titling her chin to look up at him. “Since you’ve saved me twice, don’t you think it’s time that you told me your name?”

  Chapter Four

  Brandon looked down at Emily. Even in front of all these people, he wanted to kiss her.

  Hell, he wanted to sweep her back out the door, tuck her into another hack, and take her home.

  Maybe someday he could do just that. But not now. Associating with him would bring even more danger to her door and she had enough of that already. He was at the heart of an investigation that could very well get him killed. In all likelihood, it had her father.

  He rubbed his eyes. Something about the crowd of people reminded him just how tired he was. Which was likely why he considered telling her. “I can’t.”

  “You can,” she replied. “Your secret is safe with us. We’re on the same side.”

  He looked up at Bash’s dark glare. “I don’t think we’re all in agreement on that count.”

  Emily followed his gaze. “Bash,” she said, her eyebrows rising. “He’s saved my life twice. He must have chased me halfway across London tonight.”

  Bash crossed his arms. “He also waited an entire day before telling us you might be in danger. Ask him about that.”

  Brandon winced as her gaze swung back to his. He should have come here sooner.

  She took a step back, removing her hand from his arm. “Is that true?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “I had to find out who’s been stealing from me, you, your sisters. I can’t let anything distract me from that.”

  Her head dropped as she nodded in understanding. But he noticed she didn’t look back up. He’d lost her.

  His heart contracted as his fist clenched at his side. He always knew he would. That wasn’t even the worst of it. Holding Ewan from them all these months…that had been his real sin.

  Brandon had made his choice and he couldn’t change it now. He reasoned she was never going to be his. But over the last few months he’d seen a myriad of men try to gain her favor as he’d tailed her uncle. And each and every time, he’d wanted to rip that man apart.

  Now, he’d just handed her to one of those fellows.

  She took another step back.

  “Brandon,” he said before he could change his mind. “My name is Brandon.”

  “Is it Brandon Brandon then?” Menace asked, cocking a brow.

  A small ripple of laughter went through the crowd as Emily lifted her gaze to his. He thought perhaps she’d smile too but she didn’t, and her eyes remained shuttered.

  “No.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Without her heat next to him, he was tired all the way to his bones. He let out a long breath. “My name is Brandon Winthrop, the Duke of Lancaster.”

  Someone gasped and a man rumbled out a sound that could only be described as a growl.

  But he only looked at Emily. Her lips parted and her eyes widened. “You’re a duke?”

  Goldthwaite cleared his throat. “His father was a French spy. Our king nearly stripped his title.”

  Brandon gave a single nod. “I still have the name but everything else…” He swiped his hand.

  “That’s why you’ve hid
den your identity,” Bash said from next to Isabella.

  “And why I need to solve this mystery. If I can prove my allegiance…”

  “Your wealth is gone.” Menace grimaced. “No judgment. My father lost mine too.”

  Brandon gave a tired smile. He wished Emily would speak. Say something. Because he could imagine that she despised him in this moment. She’d nearly been stolen away forever because of his choices.

  “I know the coin is gone. Filled our king’s coffers. I’m building my own fortune with this business. What I’d like is to reestablish my name. There’s little point in being a duke if I can’t even show my face in London.”

  He closed his eyes and swiped a hand down his face, trying to rub some life back into it.

  “You’re tired.”

  Emily’s voice washed over him, sweet and flowing like a brook in spring. “I am,” he answered.

  She slipped her hand into his. “Come sit.”

  She pulled him through the crowd and into a sitting room, where the heat from the fire hit his skin. Without a word, she led him to a settee, a matching one parallel to the one where he sat.

  His head lolled back, his body grateful for the rest.

  “You didn’t sleep last night,” she said rather than questioned.

  He shook his head, closing his eyes again. “No.”

  “And you found what you were looking for?”

  “I think so,” he answered, relaxing into the seat. “I’ve given all the addresses and names I could find to Goldthwaite.”

  He heard a rustling at the door and pried his eyes open to see Bash standing just in the doorway.

  He was too worn out to even acknowledge the man’s hostility.

  “Good,” she answered. “And once you know all the men involved what will you do?”

  “Bring them to the king,” he replied. Then he shot another measured look at Bash. “Hopefully one of your brothers-in-law can help me with that.”

  Bash straightened. “You want us to help you?”

  Brandon rubbed his eyes. “I want you to help me capture the ring of thieves who have been stealing from your wife.”

  He felt movement next to him and slid his eyes open a crack when Emily’s floral scent wrapped about him.

  She’d set a pillow at one end of the settee and she gave the gentlest push to his shoulder. He slid down, his head landing on the pillow. A sigh of contentment escaped his parted lips.

  And then, bless her gentle heart, she tucked a blanket about his body. It had been years since anyone had touched him like this. Her hands slid along his torso before she straightened away.

  Brandon would have liked to relive every touch, but a heaviness had settled over his limbs. He murmured a thank you as he tried to open his eyes one last time.

  She stood by his side and, in a gesture that made his throat close in aching need, she brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Get some sleep.”

  His last thought, before he drifted away, was that he was done with the investigation. That left him free to use every ounce of his energy to keep this woman safe. And by his side. That was vitally important.

  He wasn’t sure how he’d explain the past, but he’d find a way. He had to because her touch made him feel whole again in a way he hadn’t in years.

  Emily stared down at his sleeping form, her throat working.

  This man…

  He lay on his side, his knees were drawn up, creating the smallest space on the settee for her to sit. A hollow created by the curve of his body.

  She did so, her knees touching his chest, her rear pressed against his thighs and she brushed his hair back again.

  He’d saved her life twice. The first from gunshots, the second from kidnapping.

  What was a woman supposed to do with that?

  Even one as strong as Eliza would surely succumb to dreamy, romantic fantasy for such circumstances. But Emily…she needed saving regularly and so Brandon Winthrop, Duke of Lancaster, was absolutely irresistible.

  She might have fallen hopelessly in love. She touched his hair again, feeling the soft strands slip through her fingers.

  “He was a gentleman?” Bash rumbled behind her.

  She didn’t look at her brother-in-law. Instead, she stared at Brandon’s face. “Bash. He’s been shot on my behalf and then chased down an attacker. How is that not the most gentlemanly thing you’ve ever heard?”

  He chuckled behind her. “With what he’s found, his standing will be reinstated, Emily.”

  “Good. I’m glad for him.” She brushed back his hair.

  “And I’ll help him.”

  “Also good news.” She smiled down at Brandon, glad he was going to get what he most wanted. “I’m sure he’ll be very happy to hear that.”

  “And right now, before he’s returned to a seat of power, you could claim him as your own.”

  She grimaced. A different woman might do exactly that. But she didn’t have the heart.

  Because…

  Well first, because she was fairly certain she’d fallen in love. Or perhaps that was just a fantasy she’d created in her mind. She knew she wanted this man. And what other could possibly compare?

  But she also knew that he didn’t return her affection. Sure, it would be easy to fool herself that he did. He had raced to her rescue. But he was doing that for her father’s benefit, not hers.

  And the fact that his investigation took precedence over her told her he didn’t really care for her. She shivered.

  She wasn’t the sort to inspire such loyalty.

  She’d had suitors. Plenty of them. But none of them ever seemed to stick and she knew the reason. Once a man got past her beauty…

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to trap a man while he’s weak.”

  Bash sighed behind her. “I might have to insist.”

  She turned then, her rear pressing into the hollow of Brandon’s body. He was warm and even in sleep, she could feel the hard ridges of his muscles. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I don’t like it either,” Bash said. “But you were alone with him. For a lengthy period of time. On a public street, if I’m not mistaken.”

  A wave of shock coursed through her as her hands flew to her mouth. “But…”

  “Someone might have recognized you,” Bash continued.

  She swallowed, trying to clear her throat of a very large lump. “You’re going to force him to marry me because he saved me?”

  Bash shrugged. “He clearly loves the business. In this arrangement, he’d get a controlling share. And Emily, you are…” Bash paused, looking up at the ceiling. “Quite comely. There’s a great deal for him to enjoy about this match.”

  She sighed, tears stinging at her eyes. Because. Well, because wasn’t this exactly like her? Isabella and Eliza got great loves. Men who’d given them their heart and soul. And what had Emily inspired? A good business deal and…enjoyment. Not passion, not all-consuming fire. She was just…good enough. No better. A convenience.

  And here she was enjoying all sorts of romantic fantasies. Alone.

  “By all means.” She waved her hand. “Marry me off to the man who’d benefit from my business shares.”

  Bash wiped his hand down his face. “If someone saw you…” He drew in a deep breath. “Then it’s spinsterhood as the alternative. You know you’re welcome here forever. But is living here, unmarried and alone your entire life, really what you want?”

  Those were her choices? She shook her head. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

  “It’s not a question of like. I’m sure he’s fine. As you said, he did save your life. Twice. I thought he might be consorting with the crime ring and I didn’t like that, but he’s not and that raises him, in my estimation.”

  She looked down at his sleeping form. Cupping his cheek, she allowed her thumb to brush along his eyelashes. “I need to think, Bash, and I doubt he’ll wake for some time. Can you have a meal sent to my room?”

  Bash nodded as she
rose. Her gaze strayed back to Brandon. He looked younger sleeping. Soft even.

  With a quick sigh, she turned and left the room.

  But in her heart, she already knew what she was going to do.

  Was she a fighter? No. She wanted to be stronger and more capable. She wished to save her family as her sisters had done and then know, no matter what life brought, she’d be strong enough to weather any storm. But as usual, she would likely do what was best for everyone else. Would she stand against Bash if he insisted? She sighed. Of course not.

  Chapter Five

  Brandon woke, blinking his eyes. The room was dark except for embers burning in the fireplace.

  What time was it?

  Where was he?

  He lifted his head trying to survey the details in the dark. The room smelled unfamiliar. He was lying on a settee and not in a bed. The pillow was fluffy, the blanket warm.

  Slowly, the room came into a shady focus.

  Across from him was another couch.

  On that couch lay a woman.

  Emily.

  His chest tightened as he sat up, staring at her in the darkness.

  Her long, dark lashes rested on her cheek, her mouth full and relaxed. One arm was tucked against her body, but the other flung out, hanging off the edge of the settee and dangling down near the floor. Slowly he stood.

  Skirting around the table that separated the two settees, he reached down and grasped her wrist in his hand. Her bones were delicate and her arm thin, making his hand appear huge. Her skin, much paler than his, seemed to glow in the low light.

  It was achingly soft under his fingertips and he lightly stroked the inside of her wrist. The temptation to drop to his knees and pepper that same skin with light kisses surged through him but he carefully tucked her arm up against her housecoat instead.

  He skimmed his gaze over the rest of her body. She lay on her side, a loose braid coming over her shoulder. Even in her thick housecoat, he could see the swell of her hips and as he glanced down her body, the bare toes peeked out from the hem.