The Devilish Pleasures of a Duke Read Free Page B

So, apparently, did the gentleman clinging to her gloved hand, for his mouth dropped wide open.
    “Emma!” he said in obvious shock. “From
you
of all ladies. Don’t you remember why we became friends in the first place? You admired my fight for the lower classes. You—”
    Adrian told himself that eavesdropping was impolite, and a true gentleman knew the value of a discreet exit. Furthermore, he did not wish to interfere. Usually when he poked his nose into someone else’s affairs, a fight ensued. And yet as he watched the scene before him unfold, he knew it was only a matter of time before he was forced to intervene. Heath’s sister thought she could control the dandy-prat. Adrian doubted it.
    Emma’s response underscored the wisdom of following intuition. “Accosting a maidservant is
not
what I call social reform, you—dog.” And then she twisted her wrist in another effort to free herself.
    “That’s going too far,” the man in the tightly knotted neckcloth said. “Come, my darling. You’re upset. Have a calming glass of champagne—an entire bottle, at my expense—with me, in one of the bedchambers.”
    She appeared to bend the tight neckcloth’s little finger with her free hand until he turned a sickly shade of gray. Adrian grimaced. It didn’t look well for their romance. Emma might be small in size, but that bold Boscastle temperament clearly betrayed her in times of duress. He braced one elbow back against the balustrade, resigned to whatever would come.
    “That was a blow, Emma,” her companion exclaimed. “Both an insult to my manly pride and to my finger. What a cold woman you are, and here I hoped that you would become my wife.”
    She shook her wrist. “If you do not release my hand this instant, I shall break your pinkie, William, and with an unforgivable amount of pleasure. I’d as soon marry a—a—”
    “—barrow pig,” Adrian murmured as he began to unbutton his coat. He was glad now he hadn’t stolen those comfits.
    “Hush, my pet,” the man unable to take a hint replied. “There’s someone standing on the stairs. We’re liable to be overheard.”
    Emma glanced over her shoulder, releasing an exasperated sigh as Adrian met her gaze and smiled at her. “
Oh.
Not him again.”
    He shook his head. What could he say? He should have escaped when he had the chance. Now he had no choice but to intervene. She had seen him. He’d seen her.
    And typically, when Adrian made an entrance, affairs tended to go from bad to worse. Still, he thought in cheerful resignation, he understood the Boscastle brothers well enough to know they would not tolerate any mistreatment of their sister. Furthermore, they had championed him on more than one occasion since his return to England.
    He had an obligation to return the favor.
             
    Emma was not a woman to make idle threats. As distasteful a task as she had pledged, she would carry it through before enduring another moment of the clodpate’s touch. “I beg you, William,” she whispered, “stop making a fool of yourself. Release my hand.”
    He thrust out his lower lip. “Not until you agree to marry me.”
    She was immensely thankful for the inborn breeding that saved her from shoving him into the wall. How she had come to misjudge him would keep her awake for months to come. Her personal feelings, however, must be cast aside until she was shed of him.
    “Let go of the lady’s hand,” a deep authoritative voice said over her shoulder.
    “Why should I?” Sir William asked belligerently, and then, taking a closer look at the man who strode up behind Emma, abruptly obeyed. “Who the blazes are you, may I ask?”
    “No, you may not.” Adrian stripped off his coat and handed it to Emma. The gesture drew her gaze down the broad contours of his chest. “Do you mind holding this for a moment?” he inquired politely.
    “Yes, I mind,” she said, folding the garment carefully over her forearm. “In my experience when a man