Page 80 of The Devilish Pleasures of a Duke

What she had not foreseen was the impact her whirlwind romance would have upon the academy’s reputation. She had forgotten the basic motivation of the parents who sent their daughters to her in the first place—a marriage of merit.

She descended from her husband’s carriage the day after her wedding to discover the street entirely clogged with unfamiliar vehicles, a congestion that one would typically expect at one of her brother Grayson’s elaborate soirées. “Something must be wrong,” she called back to Adrian, who stood looking up and down the street in confusion.

“I hope no one’s died during the night,” he said unhelpfully.

The possibility sent her flying up the steps of Heath’s town house and straight into the arms of her brother himself. “What has happened?” she said in alarm.

He shook his head. Voices drifted from the drawing room; servants marched back and forth with silver trays of tea and fresh muffins. To her great relief she could not see anyone, Heath included, wearing a black armband, nor were there any ominous hangings from the windows to indicate a relative had passed away.

Indeed, there seemed to be some inexplicable excitement in the air—an excitement that apparently prompted her brother to make an escape. Heath kissed her on the cheek, then said, “Congratulations, Duchess. See that they’re all gone when I come back. I’ll be at the club if Adrian wishes to see me.”

Emma stared after him in perplexity. “I’m not a duchess yet. I’m—”

“Oh, Emma, thank goodness you have come. I cannot endure this for another minute. My nerves are frayed. This is fun, but so unnerving.”

She turned to behold her bedraggled cousin Charlotte leaning against one of the hallway columns. Or was she hiding behind it?

She peeled off her gloves. “What on earth is going on?”

“I’ve been fending them off since seven o’clock this morning,” Charlotte said in an exhausted voice. “How was your wedding night, by the way?”

“None of your affair, my dear, but thank you for asking. Who have you been fending off?”

Charlotte gave her a dazed look. “All I know is that since your wedding, every debutante’s mother and father appears to be consumed with the hope of marrying off their daughter to a duke. It seems you have set a standard, Emma. The haut ton is determined to learn your secrets.”

Her secrets.

She stared back through the hall, laughter bubbling inside her. There he stood, her duke’s son, her husband, if you please, looking handsomely perplexed at being separated from her. Bless the man. He truly possessed no sense of his own importance, and even if he had, Emma suspected he would neither care nor use it to advantage.

Mine, she thought.

He’s mine.

“Oh, Emma, thank heavens,” Eloise exclaimed behind her. “Close the door, would you? The girls have not been able to absorb one passage of Italian poetry what with the knocker tatting at every second. Did you have a nice…er, evening?”

Emma smiled at her sensible sister-in-law. “Very nice, thank you. Have you managed to introduce Dante?”

“Barely,” Eloise replied. “I do wish you’d warned me that your marriage would cause such a stir. I’d have spirited the girls off to the country for a day. All this excitement does rattle the nerves.”

Emma stumbled over a hillock of boxes and traveling trunks that had not been in the hall a few minutes ago. “To whom does this excessive amount of luggage belong?” she asked in consternation.

The deadly quiet that met this question gripped her heart with dread. She peered down for a closer look at the gilt monogram embossed upon one worn leather trunk, whispering “Oh, no—”

The owner herself descended the stairs just as Emma straightened. “I’m ready, darlings. Hasn’t Odham got my luggage loaded yet?”

Emma and Adrian shared a look of horrified amusement. “Are you going on a journey, Lady Dalrymple?” he inquired politely. “If so, I shall be happy to have my footmen—”

“—load my baggage onto your carriage?” Hermia breezed past him, blowing him a distracted kiss. “You are such a sweet young man. Odham and I shall settle ourselves in while you and Emma make your farewells. You do not mind if I claim one of the windows for myself? Traveling over country roads does give these ancient bones a shock.”

She glided toward the door on a carpet of oblivion, pausing to send a distracted wave in the direction of her niece, Julia, who had ventured forth from the drawing room to investigate the commotion.

Emma turned to Julia. “Is Hermia returning to her country estate?” she asked hopefully.

Julia hesitated. “Didn’t she tell you? She’s decided that she and Odham should accompany you to the duke’s estate.”

“Why?” Adrian asked.

Julia exhaled quietly. “It appears that she feels a certain responsibility toward you and Emma, Adrian. Because she…brought you together, one might say.”