Duke of Dishonor Read online

  Brandon stood too. Emily didn’t meet his gaze. Damn, she’d certainly heard his comments. That wasn’t how he wanted to tell her. He hadn’t meant it like that. He didn’t wish to marry her because she was everything wonderful in this world. Things he’d never had before. And he’d done nothing but betray that beauty.

  “It’s Abigail.” Emily’s hands fluttered even as her voice trembled. “Rumors—”

  “I know,” Bash replied. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Emily blinked, taking a half step back. “Did you tell him?”

  Brandon looked over at Bash who was frowning. “Why would I?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Emily still didn’t look at him. “People saw us yesterday. All of society knows we were alone.”

  “All right.” He moved toward her wanting to touch her. He’d been resisting the match for her sake. Did she really want to be married to a man who’d added to her misery? But if spinsterhood was her only other option, he’d protect her. There was no question. But she still didn’t meet his gaze. “If that is truly the case then I will—"

  “Only, whoever saw us thought I was Abigail. It’s a dratted thing, all of us looking so much alike.”

  He sucked in his breath. “Your sister is going to be ruined?”

  “No.” Emily finally locked her eyes onto his, unwavering. “She’s not. I can’t have that. She didn’t do a thing wrong.”

  His chest swelled. This was why he cared so much for her. She loved with her whole heart and gave so freely of herself. There wasn’t a kinder woman in the world. She made him feel things he’d thought he’d never experience in his life.

  He should have raced to her side when he’d heard that plot. He should have sent Ewan to them and had him sweep them away to Scotland where they would have been safe and warm and fed. Regret lanced through him. “You’re a good sister and a wonderful person.”

  She shook her head and her eyes looked away from his again, toward the window. “She has the same shares as me. If you marry her…”

  He blinked. Just one drop of his lids. Outwardly, he didn’t move otherwise. But inwardly, his stomach dropped.

  She was handing him off to her sister. Like a bag of grain. Here he was falling headlong into love and she thought to just change out the bride the way one might change clothes.

  He shook his head. Why should she want him? If Emily knew the half of it…

  What did it say about him that the kindest person he’d ever met didn’t see merit in him? “No.” The single word popped out of his mouth. But he didn’t regret it. Wouldn’t take it back. “My offer was for you.”

  “I agree,” Bash added behind him. “For once.”

  Brandon straightened up, his back so stiff, he thought he might break to even move. He was going to marry the woman he admired and cared for and be absolutely miserable while doing it.

  “I’ll have the contracts drawn up today.” Bash came around his desk. “We’ll go to see our king tomorrow.”

  Brandon gave a nod.

  “And Abigail?” Emily asked. “What about her?”

  Bash’s shoulders drooped and he rubbed his eyes. The man looked…tired. “I’m working on it, Em.”

  Em. He loved the name. He hated it on the other man’s lips. Not that he was jealous of Bash. Well, perhaps he was. Jealous of the way these women turned to him for guidance and support. Well, not all the women. Just Emily. He wanted to be her pillar. Her port in the storm. You should have stopped and warned her. That nagging voice in his head whispered.

  No wonder she didn’t want him, didn’t trust him.

  “Working on it?” Emily repeated, taking a step toward him. “How? I’m worried. What if no one will have her?”

  Bash dropped his hands. “Emily. Abigail is a beautiful heiress. The problem is not whether a man will have her. They’ll be crawling out of the woodwork. It’s a question of finding a man I can trust. With her and her shares. And your sister will be fine. I’ll see to it. If you want to worry for someone, worry for Avery. She’s got no dowry thanks to her father and the girl is so painfully shy.”

  Her breath caught and she looked at Brandon again, her eyes unreadable.

  “I’m not marrying her either.” Brandon shook his head. “I’m only interested in saving one Carrington.”

  Her eyes widened and her lips parted. “But why?”

  Why? Because he was a fool, obviously. “Because you’re the one I actually am obligated to attend.” Why had he said that? His hand came to his stomach as he pulled his shoulders straight again. The truth would reveal too much.

  Her mouth pinched and she looked away again. “I’m glad we’ve straightened everything out.”

  He didn’t answer. He knew they’d not worked out a thing. Last night in the dark of that room he’d felt…hope. Her soft curves had been like a call. But this morning? A chasm stood between them.

  Chapter Seven

  Brandon sat in the gilded hall of the palace, his hands clasped. The only outward indication of his nerves.

  He’d finished his interview with their king; Bash and Menace were still speaking with their sovereign leader, but Brandon had been dismissed.

  By all accounts the discussion had gone well. He’d presented the king with a list of names and addresses along with the method he’d used to obtain them so that the king could systematically arrest all the offenders.

  For his service, he’d been offered an invitation to a ball held at the palace the very next day. Which meant society would welcome him back with open arms. There was no need to hide his identity any longer.

  Still, he didn’t feel the elation he’d expected for such a win.

  The goal he’d been working toward for the past five years was finally his. He’d restored his family’s standings. He could rebuild his fortune and fully establish his seat once again.

  Excitement, however, was not his primary emotion. Rather, sick dread continued to pool in his gut.

  He’d cleared his family name. He’d outed the thieves or nearly, and most importantly, he’d made a match with the woman of his dreams. Or had he?

  Emily had been ready to hand him over to her sister without a backward glance.

  He straightened. Her affection had become more important to him than the fight to restore his name. He shook his head. Felled by a woman.

  But then a small smile touched his lips. When she gave him that soft smile, she soothed the scars on his heart. But how did he convince her that he was worth more than the occasional smile. That he deserved all her affection?

  Did he?

  He knew he didn’t and that was the crux of the problem. How did they have a future after what he’d done in the past?

  He stood and began pacing the hall, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting under his feet. The walls were lined with all manner of paintings, but he ignored them. She’d come with him tomorrow night.

  They’d announce their engagement to all of society. He’d hold her in his arms and…

  “You don’t look like a man who just won,” Menace called from down the hall. “Because you did.”

  Brandon pivoted, turning toward the other man. “I’m fighting on several fronts. And one of them isn’t going particularly well.”

  “He means Emily,” Bash said with a grin. “She tried to hand him off to Abigail this morning.”

  Brandon frowned, giving Bash his darkest glare. Just when he thought he might be coming to appreciate the man. “She wanted to ensure her sister was cared for. A quality I admire in my future bride.”

  Menace raised his brows. “If you think so.”

  He clenched his fists. He’d like to hit one of them. Or both of them.

  “What do you think the problem is?” Menace scratched his chin. “You’ve saved her life twice. You’re not ugly. Mayhap she thinks your personality is off-putting.”

  His nails dug into his palms. He didn’t need another man to speak such things. They already filled his t
houghts.

  “She doesn’t find him off-putting,” Bash said. “I saw her touching you while you were sleeping. A woman doesn’t touch a man like that if she doesn’t care.”

  A sensation coursed through his body, it was warm and sweet, and his shoulders dropped in relief. “I’d like to take her to the ball tomorrow night.”

  Bash’s brows drew together. “I’m not certain.”

  “Why not?” he asked, stepping closer. He needed a chance to woo her and this seemed perfect.

  “We’ve not made public appearances to keep the girls safe.”

  Menace shook his head. “With the rumors about Abigail, I’m not certain hiding away is a good idea either. It only fuels the gossip. And our king will make quick work of rounding up the thieves. Men have already been dispatched.”

  Bash frowned. “True.”

  Menace rubbed his chin. “How close are you to a match for Abigail?”

  “Close.”

  Brandon stepped forward. “I need a bit of time with Emily. Time that does not involve thieves or rushed proposals. I need to convince her that I am a good choice.” He needed time to explain and to convince.

  Menace furrowed his brow. “You’re a bloody duke.”

  But Bash gave a small smile and then a quick nod of assent. “It turns out when you meet the right woman, she cares less about whether or not you’re a duke and more about whether or not you’re the right man. If you’re going to go then we are all going to go. There will be strength in numbers.”

  Brandon gave a quick nod. “That is an excellent idea.”

  “And what about Abigail?” Menace asked. “Eliza is beside herself with worry.”

  “I’ve come up with a plan that will hopefully satisfy the sisters.” But Bash’s brow furrowed.

  Brandon cocked his head to the side even as Menace grunted. “And what plan is that? Will Eliza approve? You know that woman. We’ll hear about it if she doesn’t.”

  Bash scrubbed the back of his neck. “Well. Abigail has an offer for marriage.”

  “Really? Who? Will it stand even with the scandal?”

  “It will stand,” Bash answered, his gaze cast to the floor.

  Brandon gave a quick nod. Abigail being cared for made his job to win Emily over easier and drew them one step closer to clearing the obstacles between them.

  Tomorrow night he’d woo his prospective bride. And he’d find some way to explain the past to her. He had to. It was their only hope.

  Emily stood in the entry of Bash’s home dressed in a pale pink ballgown made of the finest silk. The dress seemed to float about her like a cloud at sunrise.

  Her hair had been pulled back in a loose coif with several curled strands trailing about her face and over her shoulders.

  She’d never felt more lovely.

  Or more nervous.

  Her insides fluttered and tiny tingles of anticipation danced along her skin. Was tonight the night that Brandon would propose?

  Part of her was thrilled. He was a dream and she’d been fantasizing about him for months. But her hands pressed to her stomach. She’d dreamed of his proposal nearly every night as she drifted off to sleep. It had been romantic, lovely, a fantasy worthy of a man who swooped in and rescued a girl in need.

  But their discussions of marriage had been…businesslike. Worse, she’d overheard him say he didn’t wish to wed her. He was only doing so to save her reputation.

  Perhaps if she were smarter or braver, she’d inspire more romantic passion. She tapped her chin trying to decide how she might accomplish such an end. What sort of gesture would be bold and romantic? What would her sisters do?

  And then she realized. If one of them wanted a man, they’d let him know. Tonight, she’d kiss him.

  Next to her, Isabella stood in a lovely gown of blue, Eliza in red, and Abigail in a dusty lilac that made her skin glow.

  “Are you certain I should be doing this?” Abigail asked. “I’m going to face an obscene amount of whispering.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Bash answered. “You’re in the company of two dukes. Society will have to swallow their opinions.”

  “If I need to pull some hair, you just tell me,” Eliza said from next to Emily. “I’m also deadly with a fan.”

  Everyone laughed, even Aunt Mildred, as carriages rumbled up the drive.

  Avery came down the stairs, wearing her requisite black as she gave them a look of longing. “I wish I could go with you.”

  “We’ll see you out next season,” Isabella soothed her cousin. “Your period of mourning will be over before you know it.”

  The girl nodded but Emily winced in sympathy. She knew that Avery wasn’t really mourning the loss of her father, which made this time so much more difficult to bear.

  The front door swung open and Brandon walked through looking tall and so handsome as he filled the door opening.

  Behind him stood another man, the Baron of Breckenridge. Emily had met the man a few times because he was in business with Bash, but she didn’t know him well.

  He bowed to all of them and then turned to Abigail, bowing again.

  Abigail curtsied in return, but a decided frown marked her brow. Before she could question her sister’s reaction, Emily’s attention turned back to Brandon.

  He approached, his eyes running up and down her frame. “You look stunning.”

  Her cheeks heated as she dropped into a curtsy and then offered her gloved hand. He placed a kiss on the cloth and more warmth radiated from her core.

  His hand was large, swallowing hers as he continued to hold her fingers in his palm. “Thank you,” she said, noting that her voice had a breathless quality as though she’d just run a great distance.

  “Well, we’re all assembled. Shall we?” Bash said as he wrapped an arm about Isabella’s waist.

  Brandon never let her fingers go as he tucked her hand into his elbow. Her pulse began to race. Perhaps he could have an affection for her after all.

  He handed her into his carriage and slid into the seat across from her. Eliza settled next to her while Menace took the seat opposite his wife.

  An awkward silence fell as the carriage started. Emily didn’t know how to ask questions with an audience and Brandon didn’t offer comments either.

  “Beautiful night,” Menace finally murmured.

  “It’s freezing and about to rain.” Eliza looked across the way. “Why would you say such dribble?”

  Menace chuckled. “You can’t even let me fall back on mundane conversation about the weather? I was trying to fill the silence.”

  Eliza huffed. “Let’s discuss something that matters.” Then she gave Emily a sidelong glance. “And someone who isn’t in this carriage. What is the Baron of Blasphemy doing here?”

  “Here?” Menace answered ducking his head.

  Eliza leaned forward. “You know very well what I mean. Why is he the eighth member of our party?”

  Menace lifted his chin and was now inspecting the ceiling. “You’ll have to ask Bash. Blasphemy’s attending on his invite. Obviously. He’d never get an invitation from the king otherwise.”

  Pointing her finger, she lifted off the seat and poked her husband in the chest. “Precisely. So why did Bash invite him? And don’t say, ask Bash. I’m asking you. And start talking if you want to sleep in my bed tonight.”

  “’Liza,” he said, his voice taking on a wounded puppy tone. “Don’t be like that. You’re going to be angry either way so why not be angry at Bash?”

  “Because,” she huffed, “I can’t kick Bash out of my bed.”

  “Get your sister to do it then. He’s the one that deserves the treatment and Isabella has the power to make him suffer.”

  “Not a bad plan,” Eliza murmured. “But not relevant now. I want answers.”

  Emily looked back and forth between them. “What has you so worried, Eliza?”

  “I’m worried because,” Emily turned to look at her. “Blasphemy is crass, ill-mannered, and barely social
ized despite being a baron. And if he’s here, it likely means that Bash has decided to match Abigail with the financially unfortunate and heathenistic baron.” Then she looked back at Menace. “Am I correct?”

  Emily gasped as her hands covered her mouth. Abigail deserved the best sort of man. Not the worst.

  Brandon cleared his throat. “He is a baron. She’ll be titled.”

  “He’s a beast,” Eliza fired back. “You can be certain that he won’t go around rescuing Abigail the way that you have with Emily.”

  Emily choked a bit. She’d been lamenting how her sisters were stronger and they’d forged better futures for themselves, but she wasn’t doing terribly.

  Unless one considered being in love with your future husband while he married you for your inheritance bad.

  Which she did.

  Brandon looked at Eliza, grimacing. “Are you also trying to convince me to marry Abigail instead of Emily? Because I won’t.”

  “Who else did that?” Eliza gasped.

  “Eliza,” Emily started.

  “You didn’t.” her sister turned to look at her, glaring in the dark.

  Oh dear, Emily thought as she spread her hands out on her knees. She was about to get it and she rarely bested Eliza.

  Chapter Eight

  Brandon watched as Eliza ranted at her sister.

  He knew the words came from a place of love, but Emily’s head sunk lower with each sentence until her chin rested on her chest. He didn’t like it one bit.

  Emily shrunk into herself, hardly saying a word, as Eliza continued on. “You know that both of you need to marry. Why would you nearly ruin such a prospect by being so foolish?” Eliza’s voice was growing louder. “You have such a good heart but not a lick of sense.”

  “Excuse me,” he cut in, and Emily’s head snapped up as Menace shifted beside him. “But I’m not just some prospect. I’m a man who is sitting right here.” Then his eyes met Emily’s. “And Emily has the good sense to put her family first. Always.”

  Emily’s mouth opened and then closed as she stared at him.

  Then Brandon looked back at Eliza, these words coming from his heart. “I only hope that after we’re married, she counts me in the people she protects so wholeheartedly. I will be a very lucky man indeed.”