Duke of Dishonor Page 5

  She sighed in her sleep, and the sound skittered along his skin making his flesh rise. Nope. Not even that sound was unattractive. In fact, it had been incredibly…lovely.

  “Your Grace?” she asked, her lashes fluttering, her voice high and achingly gentle. “Is everything all right?”

  Damn. She was everything soft in this world. All the softness he’d never been treated to. His mother had died before he’d even known her. His father was a spy that had all but abandoned his son to the wrath of an angry king.

  But Emily…she was like a balm to his wounds and he’d nearly allowed the worst to happen to her. “Everything is fine.” He couldn’t resist then, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair away from her face. It slipped through his fingers like the finest silk. He wanted to bury his hands in her mass of hair. Hell, he wanted those locks spread across his chest like a curtain. He didn’t deserve them, though, that was for certain. “What are you doing sleeping here? I presume His Grace has given you a room with a bed?”

  She stretched and the movement made his manhood thicken and lengthen. The woman wasn’t attempting to be seductive. She just…she was wreaking havoc on him.

  “He has,” she murmured. “I was worried about you and I couldn’t sleep.”

  He did drop down to a knee then. He wasn’t certain why. The words touched him deep inside, but surely he wasn’t suffering from weak knees? Likely he just wanted to study her face to assess the truth. “I am not used to people worrying after me.”

  She rolled onto her back, leaving her body even more open to him than she’d been before. His hand itched to touch her. “You jest. You’re a handsome duke…” Her words tapered off and even in the dim light, color flamed in her cheeks.

  He ran a knuckle over her cheekbone, feeling the heat. Despite himself he chuckled. “I’m a duke in exile. That makes me significantly less popular.”

  She tilted her head to stare up at him. “I need to tell you something.”

  Unease made his back straighten. She was not prone to drama, he’d seen it time and time again. She soothed those around her rather than excited. “What is it?”

  “Bash, the Duke of Devonhall, thinks that you should offer for my hand since we were alone.” She swallowed and then pushed up onto her elbows.

  The gesture both brought her bosom into stark attention, which was rather ample for a woman of her size, and brought her full mouth closer to his. Despite the alluring image in front of him, he frowned. “He thinks that, does he?”

  She shook her head, her braid sliding across her chest. “You shouldn’t be punished for rescuing me.”

  Now that was the most shocking thing she’d said since he’d met her. “Punished?” He did touch her then. He reached out and ran a hand from the crown of her head and along her braid. He’d love to undo that hair, fan it out. “Marriage to you would not be a punishment.” He shook his head. Quite the contrary, it would be a detriment to her. She deserved a man who could rush to her aid without the demons of his past driving him in another direction.

  Color rose in her face again. “I…” she started and then she scooted into a full sit, moving away from him. “You can’t actually want…” Her face turned toward the cushions. “I’m not even from the peerage.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve held my title by the thinnest thread. At this point, I am more concerned about reinstating my position.”

  “Surely a strong match with a good family would do far better for you than I would?”

  He raised his brows. Did she not want to marry him? He supposed he didn’t blame her. She knew that he’d nearly lost her by pursuing his investigations first. He was disgraced and despite his efforts, might remain so. He wasn’t exactly a catch, was he? “You would provide many advantages, Emily. Unfortunately—”

  He saw her face crumble in pain at the single word, but a deeper voice was the one that answered. “I agree. Which is why I think we should talk in my study. Emily, you should see yourself off to bed.”

  He turned. The Duke of Devonhall stood in the doorway. Blast. He’d been about to tell her despite all her charming attributes, he could not marry her. Would he tell her of his past? About Ewan? He’d kept her cousin from coming to their rescue. A sin he would surely be punished for.

  He wouldn’t have the chance tonight.

  Brandon stood, preparing for whatever Devonhall was about to toss his way. No matter what angle the man was working the two of them seemed to be at odds.

  “Oh but…” Emily started. He reached down a hand and took hers, helping her up off the couch. He’d like to lace his fingers through hers and keep her next to him. “Shouldn’t I be part of this conversation too?”

  Bash shook his head. “It’s two in the morning. You should get some sleep. It’s been a difficult day.”

  She sighed, but her fingers started to slip from his. He grimaced. Why shouldn’t she discuss her own future? And Brandon had more to say to her. “I disagree.”

  He didn’t relish the words he had to say but they should come from him.

  She stopped moving, looking up at him. There was a question in the crinkle of her eyes, but also a small smile that stole his breath.

  “This is my house. Emily is my ward.” Bash straightened, his arms crossing.

  Emily looked at her brother-in-law. “Don’t mind him,” she said, turning back to Brandon. “In marrying Isabella, he’s been strapped with four unwed females, only one of which he’s married off, a business that is plagued, and an uncle who was a lunatic. As you well know. But if he seems grumpy, it’s a lot to ask of anyone.”

  Bash stole the words from Brandon’s mouth as he looked at his sister-in-law. “You are unfailingly kind and considerate, Emily.”

  Brandon squeezed her fingers tighter. Would she end up married out of consideration for the rest of her family? Society’s dictates? Who would that man be? He hated the idea of another man having the right to touch her even if he had no claim to jealousy. “Do you wish to wed now?”

  “What?” she asked, her fingers lacing into his.

  “You have a choice. What do you pick?”

  She shook her head, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

  “She’d choose to marry,” Bash said from the doorway.

  “Forgive me, Your Grace.” Brandon frowned at the other man. “But I didn’t ask you.” Brandon could see that Emily was kind almost to a fault. Bash was trampling her choices with his own.

  Emily touched his arm, her fingers threaded through his still. “I would do what was best for my family.”

  And still she spoke with deference. He looked down at her. “You can say no.” He smiled then. “It is your right to wait and find the right man.”

  That made her smile again. Sweet and relaxed, the warmth of her gaze made him ache. “Thank you for the advice, Your Grace.” Then her hand slipped from his and she started from the room. He watched her until she disappeared.

  Bash glanced at her too as she exited the room and then he swung his gaze back to Brandon. “It’s time for us to have a private conversation.”

  Brandon quirked a brow. “I greatly appreciate you allowing me to sleep on your settee but as you stated, it’s two in the morning. Perhaps we should agree that tomorrow may be a better time to discuss the subject of marriage?”

  Bash gave a stiff nod. “I have other questions too. About the Scot. Isabella’s father. Their uncle.”

  Brandon gave a stiff nod. “Tomorrow then?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Chapter Six

  Emily woke late and when she entered the breakfast room, she’d expected it to be empty. The quietness of the room confirmed her suspicions, but as she walked inside, she found her fake aunt, sisters, and cousin all assembled.

  They sat in a row, hands folded, waiting.

  Their silence alone was concerning. Five women were never quiet. Ever.

  But their matching looks of concern made Emily stop in the doorway. Fear trembled down her back. “Wha
t’s wrong?”

  Isabella stood clearing her throat. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  Eliza rose as well and before she could answer, started talking. “It was a rather interesting day yesterday, and I’m sure you’re exhausted still.”

  “I’m fine, actually,” she answered, her jaw clenching. She loved Eliza, but she did not need her sister to speak for her.

  “Oh good,” Isabella answered. “We were so worried yesterday…”

  Emily winced. Of course they were. They’d watched her be carted off. She drew in a steadying breath. She needed to be more patient with her family. “Is that why you’re all sitting here like we’re about to attend a funeral?”

  Abigail stood then. Emily looked at her youngest sister, her face pale, her eyes large, and her gut churned with misgiving. Abigail was never quiet. Ever. Abigail’s hands twisted, her teeth catching her bottom lip. “Something’s happened.”

  Emily moved forward coming to her sister’s side. She slipped an arm about Abigail. “What?”

  Abigail’s hands twisted. “Someone saw you yesterday. In the duke’s arms.”

  That’s when Emily saw the piece of parchment on the table with neat slanting letters. “Who saw me?”

  “We don’t know precisely.” Eliza stood taller, her knuckles rapping on the table. “But apparently it’s the talk of the town. There was a ball last night and it was being whispered everywhere. Some are even saying your scandalous behavior is why we’ve disappeared from society.”

  “What?” Her breath caught. What would happen to her sister? “That’s just not true.”

  Their hired Aunt Mildred shrugged. “Technically, it is true. The same forces that pushed you out of society tried to kidnap you.”

  “Why are you still here?” Eliza asked, her eyes narrowing. “Our uncle is dead and we’re under the protection of the duke.”

  Aunt Mildred, or Caroline, or whatever her name was, let out a huff. “It looks better that I am. And besides, once you’re all married, I get a bonus and a country house.”

  “You’re jesting,” Eliza said a fair bit louder than was necessary.

  Mildred shrugged. “It was in my initial contract. I’m not going to break it.”

  Isabella’s brow drew down. “Then why do you quit regularly?”

  “You’re a lot to handle,” the other woman grumped back.

  Abigail stamped her slippered foot on the thick carpet. “Can we get back to me, please?”

  “Back to you?” Emily asked.

  “Yes.” Abigail turned to look at her. “As I said. You were seen with your mystery man.”

  “I know,” she answered. “As you said. But it doesn’t matter. At least not to me. Bash and Brandon are discussing the possibility of marriage, and Bash is convinced Brandon will be exonerated by the crown.”

  “He offered!” Isabella broke into a large smile. “This is good news.”

  Aunt Mildred clapped. “Do you think there is a bonus for a duke? I should look at my contract.”

  Had he offered? Not exactly. That word…unfortunately…skittered through her mind. How silly she was. Bash might force the match, but she wouldn’t have been his first choice for a wife.

  “The problem, however, is that whoever saw you thought that you were me or I was you or however that goes,” Abigail said. “In other words, you are not the one facing ruin. I am.”

  Emily gasped and her hands came up to cover her mouth. “I’ll tell them that it was me. I’ll tell everyone.”

  Tears filled Abigail’s eyes. “I know that you would. But…” She clasped her hands in front of her heart. “Everyone will assume you’re just trying to cover for me, and the scandal will follow me anyhow. In all likelihood, we’d both be ruined.” She plopped down in her chair, waving her hand. “We’ll be spinsters together, I suppose. We’ll live in the country with a house full of cats that smells like old carpet and herbs.”

  Emily wrapped her arms about her sister, tears stinging her eyes. “Abigail. Do stop.” How could her feisty stunning sister be ruined before she’d barely begun? And for what? Nothing. She’d done absolutely nothing. “We have to find a way to make this right.”

  “We will.” Isabella nodded.

  “What can we do?” Avery asked coming up to join the sisters. She was their cousin, and being Uncle Malcolm’s daughter, the girls hadn’t always been close. But Emily pulled her into their group for a hug. Despite her parentage, Avery had a good heart. And she was family.

  “We have shares…” Eliza said, tapping her chin. “Perhaps we can transfer some to Abigail. With a large enough dowry, almost any sin will be forgiven.”

  “What sin?” Abigail huffed, her foot stomping again. “Sitting at home bored to tears for the last two months?”

  Eliza reached for Emily’s hand, ignoring Abigail’s comment. “Your duke is already here talking with Bash. Do you think he’d be willing to settle for less shares in the marriage contract?”

  Emily inwardly winced. Even her sister realized that if Brandon did come to an agreement with Bash, he’d be marrying her for the business gain and not because he held an affection for her.

  Everyone knew she wasn’t enough on her own. And the worst part was that she cared for him so deeply she ached with it. Her heart beat wildly in her chest.

  And then a new idea occurred to her. A very good one that made her insides twist in tight sickening knots. “We all have equal shares, correct?”

  “Yes,” Isabella’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  She nibbled at her lip as a new thought occurred to her. She ignored the heavy dread that pulled at her chest. “Well. Bash wanted him to marry me because he’d ruined me. Only he didn’t ruin me, inadvertently, he ruined Abigail and—”

  “Emily,” Abigail huffed. “Are we going to get to the point?”

  Emily dipped her head. She wanted to help save Abigail. She absolutely did and she did not wish for her sisters to see how much these next words hurt. She was infatuated with the man, had been for months. “You’re a good match for him too. The king took most of his wealth so double shares in the business will allow him to grow his fortune and return his status.”

  “What?” Eliza huffed. “It doesn’t work like that. You’re the one who was alone with him. And he was the one who dragged you out onto a busy street.”

  “We had to get away,” she said as her head snapped up. “And Bash suggested the match to save my reputation only…” Pain lanced through her chest. “Only it turns out I am not the one who needs saving.”

  A hush fell over the room as the women realized what she meant.

  Because her duke, the one that she’d been fantasizing about for weeks, the one whom she was fairly certain she’d fallen in love with, was going to propose if Bash got his way. And she had to say no. And then she’d have to…

  She covered her racing heart. She’d have to suggest that he offer for Abigail instead.

  Brandon stared at the other duke wishing it were later in the day. He could use a drink.

  He’d told Bash everything he knew about Lucas Carrington’s disappearance, which honestly, wasn’t as much as he’d like to know. “I already said. He told me he’d discovered thieves. He told me he believed they originated from the Indies and that he’d travel there to investigate. I was to keep an eye on the girls but not make myself known to them. For my benefit and theirs.”

  “And you never heard from him again?”

  “No. Not even a sales or trade route update for months.” Brandon ran his hand through his hair. “Not for over a year now. I was losing hope anyway, and then his personal assistant returned without him, having witnessed his death.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. How long were you partners?”

  “Three years. He brought me in when he realized that he couldn’t trust Malcolm. Said for his girls’ sakes, there needed to be a second in command.”

  “And in all that time, you never met any of his daughters?” Devonhall sat forward
.

  Brandon hesitated. “He worked a great deal. I don’t think even he saw them all that much…” But now that Devonhall mentioned it, his lack of involvement in his family was odd. “But I was to remain silent. In that way I was protected from Malcolm but also the business had a layer of secrecy that made it more difficult to penetrate.”

  “And what were your dealings with Malcolm?”

  Brandon sighed. He’d answered all these questions multiple times. “None. I just told you, I was a secret, a silent partner.”

  “And why would he hire a man so out of favor with our king?”

  “Because.” Brandon shook his head. “At one time, he and my father were friends.”

  Bash grimaced. “That’s the part that troubles me.”

  “Why?” he asked, but Brandon knew the answer. He’d felt the same trepidation.

  “Because your father was a spy.”

  Brandon swallowed. “I don’t think it was like that. They knew each other from childhood. They were old friends.”

  Bash nodded. “And as to a match with Emily?”

  “Match,” he snapped back, tired of the interrogation. “Are you insisting or asking?”

  “I’d like to say that I am asking. Very politely.”

  “Then I must refuse.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Bash fired back. “She’ll not be ruined. I won’t allow it.”

  “If it comes to that, then I will marry her, but if no one is the wiser then there is no need.”

  But Bash no longer looked at him, averting his gaze to glance over Brandon’s shoulder. Brandon turned too and his heart stopped in his chest. Emily stood behind them.

  “Forgive me,” she softly said, but her eyes didn’t ask for forgiveness. In fact she looked as though she felt…betrayed. “I should have knocked. It’s just the door was open, and I was in such a hurry.”

  “Hurry for what?” Bash asked standing.