The Devilish Pleasures of a Duke Page 16

  Emma started after them. It went without saying that she deplored violence of any manner, but she had grown up in a family of five physical brothers and one earthy, exuberant younger sister. More than once Emma had broken up a bout of fisticuffs, as well as rescued a sibling tied to a stool during a family torture fest, in the butler’s pantry.

  Therefore, without hesitation, she hefted her personal bible of good behavior in one hand and, taking only a split second to aim, sent it hurtling at the head of Harriet’s abductor.

  It hit him square in the temple, her precious manual of polite graces, all that valuable advice wasted on a primitive’s forehead. The blow rendered him momentarily senseless. He shoved Harriet down onto her hands and knees. When he straightened, he was pointing the balisong in Emma’s direction and advancing on her.

  Emma spun into motion.

  She threw a cushion into his face, followed by the complete leather-bound works of Shakespeare. He swore, his arms shielding his face so that he did not see Harriet tackle him from behind and shove him against the window.

  As he staggered, losing his balance, Emma darted to the bellpull and tugged in panic. She had quite lost track of time, but surely two seconds did not pass before the door flew open.

  “Adrian!”

  With a relief that shivered down the seams of her stockings, she recognized the tall long-boned figure who stepped into the room. His hard unsettling gaze questioned her, the book on the floor, the broken window. In two strides he crossed the room and stood as if to shield her.

  A rather terrifying transformation seemed to have settled over his handsome features. Before her very eyes he changed from a dashing gentleman to a dark avenger. His very smile filled her with foreboding.

  This was not Adrian Ruxley, heir to a dukedom. The man who strode into the room might have just leapt off a pirate junque into a battle on some foreign shore. The image only sharpened in her mind as he wrenched off his cloak and drew his sword from its scabbard.

  His white linen shirt clung damply to his chest. A gasp composed of as much admiration as protest rose in her throat. At any other time she might have been offended by the sight of a man’s sweaty chest, as attractive a view as she admitted to herself it was, had she not been so grateful to see him.

  “Tell me you are all right, Emma,” he said without looking at her.

  She nodded, heard her brother calling down from the top of the stairs. Then the loud clatter of Hamm’s footsteps in the hall. But all of her attention suddenly centered on Adrian, beautiful, heroic, and blessedly here.

  “I’m fine, but Harriet—”

  Suddenly Adrian’s focus shifted. One of Harriet’s brothers was already racing through the garden, silverware and snuffboxes spilling out of his pockets. Rob had edged to the window with his knife held out in an effort to keep Adrian away.

  “Don’t sleep too sound, none of you,” he said roughly. “We’ll come back.”

  Adrian unsheathed his sword. “What did you say?”

  Emma blinked. She was too riveted by Adrian to even acknowledge the three other people crowded in the doorway. Her stomach fluttered at the hard smile that curved his mouth. His dark menace mesmerized everyone who watched him as he moved forward.

  Harriet retreated behind a satinwood library table.

  Rob cast a wild look around the room. “Ain’t no one going to stop him? Harriet?”

  Adrian circled him with unnerving concentration, raising his saber to the throbbing pulse of Rob’s throat so swiftly that even Emma had not seen it coming. “I want to kill you,” he said, shaking his head as if the confession amused him. “I’m not entirely sure I can stop myself.”

  Emma clutched the bellpull. From the corner of her eye she saw Heath and his footman standing in the door, their presence blocking the view of Julia and her aunt. She was profoundly grateful that Charlotte and Miss Peppertree appeared to have kept the girls occupied in the other wing.

  They must never learn what had happened today, at all costs. It would give them nightmares for months.

  Rob’s forehead glistened with sweat. His brother had disappeared. The tall blond man with the sword had a murderous glint in his eye that even a fool would respect. “Look. There’s been no ’arm done.”

  Adrian walked him against the window. “Says who?”

  “Ask me sister,” Rob said, his voice thick. “Ask that lady at the bellpull.”

  Adrian’s lips thinned. “What say you, Harriet?”

  She pushed her hair from her eyes. “Slit him open like a salmon. Scourge of the earth, he is.”

  Adrian glanced at Emma. “The decision is yours.”

  Emma could not seem to think clearly. She wished only that this ordeal would end. “Let him go,” she whispered.

  Adrian stared up at the ceiling. His hard expression said it wouldn’t bother him to send Rob to the next world. “Are you sure?” he asked lightly.

  “Please—”

  He pressed the tip of his sword into Rob’s throat. Rob’s face drained white. “The lady wishes for me to be merciful. I release you with reluctance.”

  Rob stood in hesitation, glancing covertly from Adrian to Emma.

  “Go, you big witless nit,” Harriet said in contempt. “Get out before he changes his mind.”

  A moment later Rob spun on the shattered glass and dove out the window into the rose bushes below. He broke into a run before he even straightened, thorns and leaves stuck to his clothes. Adrian shook his head in disgust and sheathed his rapier.

  Harriet clapped her hands in delight. “Criminy! I’ve waited my whole life to see ’im get what he deserved. You’re a hero, Lord Wolf, that’s what you are. Wait’ll I tell the girls—”

  “Harriet Gardner.” Emma raised her voice. “You will not speak of this affair again. To anyone. Do you understand?”

  “Why not, ma’am? Wolf ain’t done no wrong. It’s me lousy family.”

  “Please go with Hamm to the kitchen and have Cook put salve on your elbow.”

  “I’ll take her,” Julia offered from the door. “Heath wants to make sure none of his treasures were taken from his study. Hamm is going to fetch a glazier to repair the window. I suppose it would be a good idea to assign one of the under-footmen to go outside and retrieve whatever valuables Luke lost during his cowardly escape.”

  Adrian glanced around. “May I do something to help?”

  Emma sighed. “I think you’ve been more than helpful.”

  He bent to pick up her manual. “I suppose that’s one way to drum manners into a fellow’s head.”

  She laughed a little unsteadily. “I do not recommend it.”

  Suddenly they were standing alone in the library. Adrian stared at her, knowing he looked unkempt and sinister. “I could have killed those two when I saw you standing there, and all that broken glass—”

  “But you showed admirable restraint. Still”—she could not quite hide a dark sense of humor—“I’ve a feeling Harriet’s brothers will not return soon, if ever, after your appearance.”

  “I only showed restraint because you were not harmed.” He lowered his voice. He could hear Heath talking to one of the servants in the hall. “I shall go mad if we cannot meet in private. I’m behaving like a man—”

  “I shall be at the park tomorrow,” she said with a guarded smile.

  “By yourself?” he asked, studying her face.

  “Of course she won’t be by herself,” Heath said as he reentered the room. “Look at what happened to her today. A brother cannot be too careful when it comes to his sister’s welfare.” He looked directly at Adrian. “I’m certain you’ll agree.”

  “How could one argue otherwise?” Adrian replied gracefully.

  Heath shrugged. He’d changed into a clean shirt and buff trousers. “Are you staying for dinner? It is the least our hero of the day deserves.”

  “No.” He shook his head. He could not trust himself to sit across the table from Emma and not reveal his feelings. It was, in
fact, killing him to leave her now with nothing resolved. “I have intruded upon you enough. As well as bringing scandal to your house.” He grimaced. “Not to mention looking like a pirate at the moment.”

  Heath laughed, his good nature apparently restored. “Scandal is nothing new to the Boscastles. Indeed, I do not believe we would know what to do with ourselves if a week passed without some disgrace.”

  Emma had laid her manual on the library table to examine it for damage. She could sense her brother, in turn, examining her in his subtle yet unnerving way. She wondered exactly what he saw.

  “I do like Wolf,” he said as he turned to the window. “He is a natural defender. However…”

  She continued to turn the pages of her beloved book. One had to be on guard against Heath’s “howevers” and his inscrutable stares. He did not pry. And yet he always seemed to know what a person was most desperate to hide. He understood human nature. He must have been an excellent spy.

  She glanced up. “You were saying?”

  “I said that I liked Wolf,” he answered after a deep silence. “He is a brave man. However…”

  Emma continued to examine the pages of her manual for creases. “However?”

  “Well, he has lived a hard life, fought battles that some would deem brutal.”

  “He has, hasn’t he?” she murmured.

  He arched his brow. “What I meant to say is that ofttimes, when a man is forced to defend his life, the lives of others, he sacrifices a part of his soul.”

  She closed the book and looked at him. “Did you, Heath?”

  He looked so taken aback she almost giggled.

  “I thought so once.”

  “And now?” she asked gently, feeling guilty for provoking him when she knew he had intervened only out of his deep concern for her.

  “I have enough in my wife and family that I do not feel the lack,” he replied.

  “Dear Heath,” she said with a rueful smile, “what would we have done without you?”

  He sighed. “Is there something you wish to confide in me? I would never violate your trust.”

  “There is only one thing,” she answered, her gaze downcast.

  “Yes?”

  “I want you to know I perceive that whatever sacrifices you made, whatever you feel you lost during the war you have more than gained back in wisdom and kindness.”

  “That is all?” he asked in patent disappointment.

  She looked up again, her blue eyes playful. “The Boscastle Inquisition is over. We are no longer children, and I am old enough to choose my own course.”

  “That is not the answer I hoped to hear.” He grinned helplessly. “In fact, it is not an answer at all, you clever woman.”

  Be happy, Emma.

  Those had been her late husband’s last words to her, his benediction.

  But he had not told her how.

  Be happy.

  And then he had expired, leaving her bereft but not alone, for no sooner had his coffin been lowered into the ground than her brothers had swooped down to convince her that she must abandon her young ladies’ academy in Scotland and move to London where they could watch over her and protect her from all the evils the world inflicted upon young vulnerable widows such as herself.

  As it had turned out, and not exactly to Emma’s regret, she had been the one to watch over the Boscastles and warn them of the constant perils they sought and miraculously escaped unscathed, with the tragic exception of their youngest brother Brandon.

  But Emma was not about to complain. Guarding her siblings had filled the void in her life, and now with all of them married, she could turn her nurturing instincts to the young ladies of London who so desperately needed the guidance of an experienced gentlewoman.

  But suddenly the tables had turned.

  The rogues were paying her back in kind.

  They’d always accused her of meddling in their affairs. Now they were the meddlers.

  It was over the next two days, however, that she realized how the strong arms of her family had begun to tighten about her like shackles. Scarcely could she take a cup of tea without one of her brothers hovering at her elbow. One or another of the demons seemed bent on accompanying her everywhere.

  Since when had Devon taken such a keen interest in haunting the library the exact hour that she did? And when on earth had Heath ever enjoyed shopping for lace and haggling over the price of a hanky?

  Still, it was not until her next unplanned encounter with Lord Wolverton at the museum that she knew a bona fide conspiracy had been hatched to prevent her from being alone with Adrian. She and Charlotte were guiding the girls for a history lesson, when Drake appeared from behind an Egyptian sarcophagus and meandered past her to a collection of ancient pottery. Drake and ancient art?

  Clearly her wicked brothers had decided they had reason to intercede.

  “How did you know I would be here?” she whispered to Adrian as he followed her into the Roman gallery ahead of the girls.

  “I have a spy in your house who informs me of your whereabouts.”

  “You don’t,” she said softly. “It’s Harriet, isn’t it? How could you, Adrian? You haven’t told my brothers?” she asked in an undertone. She swallowed hard. “They know. There’s no other explanation.”

  Adrian trailed her at a respectable distance. “Well, they didn’t hear it from me. I would rather die than betray you.”

  She noticed Harriet sneak away from the group. All of a sudden she seemed to have lost control over her entire life. “Harriet, do not place your hand into that urn. You don’t know what might be in there.”

  The air was chill inside the museum. Rain had fallen steadily throughout the day. Yet with Adrian’s warm, wool-cloaked figure at her back, Emma felt almost overheated. In a barely audible voice, she asked, “Why exactly are you following me, Adrian?”

  “Because I want—because I—oh, hell, Emma, may we walk alone in the hall for a moment?”

  She glanced around. “One moment only.”

  He looked back, noting Drake’s figure only a few feet away. “It isn’t over between you and me,” he said under his breath. “It can’t be. I have spent every hour since—”

  He broke off as they turned a corner together and discovered her younger brother Devon sitting in a chair perusing a collection of state papers. “Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Adrian muttered. “The entire family is here. There’s your brother.”

  Emma glanced back through the doorway in consternation. “It can’t be my brother. I can see him standing right over there with Charlotte.”

  “The other brother. Devon.”

  “Devon? In a museum? Now I have seen everything.”

  Devon lowered his sheath of documents, pretending to look astonished to see them, and gave a friendly little wave.

  “This has gone too far.” Emma came to a halt. The girls crowded into the arched doorway behind Adrian. “I shall put a stop to it as soon as I return home.”

  Adrian looked at Devon, whose friendly expression had gone faintly discouraging all of a sudden. “All I want to do is talk to you, Emma. Without a full complement of guards.”

  She glanced back meaningfully at her brother. “It seems as if you shall have to do so by committee.”

  He crossed his arms. “Unless we can arrange a private meeting.”

  “We can’t,” she whispered. “At least not until they stop pestering me like this.”

  His gaze darkened. “Well, I’m not giving up. And just so that you’ll know what you’re dealing with, I have never failed in any mission before.” He stared at her in male arrogance underlaid with a very appealing vulnerability. “And I don’t intend to start now.”

  “We’ll see,” she murmured.

  To Adrian’s surprise, his declaration of amorous warfare would demand a good deal more strategy than the straightforward military conquests he had waged in the past. He had earned his reputation as a hard fighter.

  He had not, however, mast
erminded a campaign against the Boscastle brothers before. He had to admire their ingenuity and determination when it came to protecting one of their own.

  His admiration would not deter him from his purpose. In fact, it only made him more determined to win.

  He just wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.

  They were four Boscastle brothers and one of him. Obviously he needed a powerful ally. And a bolder plan of action.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Heath’s sleek black carriage rumbled over the glistening cobbles of the city street. The three brothers borne within stared back at the receding museum in silence until Devon tossed his black leather gloves onto the seat in disgust, if not defeat.

  “This is getting a bit ridiculous. We can’t follow Emma everywhere. She’s planning on attending a Flemish needlework display this evening in Caven dish Square. A man does have his pride.”

  “Dear God,” Drake muttered. “I thought ancient pottery was bad enough.”

  “At least none of you had to buy pink lace in public,” Heath remarked dryly. “And tomorrow morning she’s been invited to inspect a parish school for the children of unwed prostitutes.”

  “Well, count me out on that one,” Devon said. “I think Chloe is accompanying her.”

  Heath snorted. “And Chloe, as we all recall, knows absolutely nothing about illicit affairs and staying away from dangerous men. If anything, Chloe will push Emma right into Adrian’s arms.”

  “Well, we cannot accompany her forever on all these forays,” Devon muttered. “I’m beginning to feel like my dowager auntie. Moreover, I think Jocelyn is beginning to suspect I’m up to no good.”

  Heath blew out a sigh. “We must hang in only until Grayson returns and we have a forum to decide on action.”

  “Our presence doesn’t seem to have convinced Wolf to stay away from her,” Drake said.

  Heath laughed. “Perhaps he can’t help himself.”

  Drake grinned at him. “Emma and Wolf. He’s the complete opposite of our sister, the antithesis of all she holds dear.”

  “Actually, he’s not,” Heath said reflectively. “He’ll be a duke one day. And with a little bit of polish, well, who knows? No one would have laid odds on any of us reforming not long ago.”