Page 8

“Yes. Yes.” Heatherston agreed without hesitation and with more force than warranted. “Yes, we gladly accept your generous offer, don’t we, Avery?”

His acceptance ignited a smile on Avery’s face. She nodded eagerly and then stunned Emily by hugging her. “Thank you.”

“Might I call upon ye this afternoon to discuss the arrangements?” A primal gleam entered the duke’s eyes that immediately made Emily suspicious.

“I shall alert Justina to expect you both at four.” Emily angled her head. “There is much to do as the Season has already begun.”

“I’m aware,” Heatherston admitted. “Unfortunately, circumstances prevented us from leaving Scotland as early as I would have liked to have done.” He swiped his hair off his forehead and met his niece’s impertinent gaze. “We are here now, and that is all that matters.”

It was best to ensure the duke understood exactly what Emily offered and what she did not. She met his amused eyes directly, a challenge in hers.

“I’ll remind you what I told you last December, Your Grace.”

Acutely aware of Miss Levingtone’s riveted attention, veering between Emily and the duke, Emily tucked her parasol under one arm. In that disagreeable conversation, she might’ve referred to preferring to bed a leper.

“Those criteria haven’t changed one iota,” she said crisply.

“Ye never allowed me to prove I wasn’t a leper, lass.”

The duke flashed her a blinding grin, all straight white teeth in a sun-browned face, and gave her a brazen wink.

The forward cad.

“A leper?” Miss Levingtone giggled, thoroughly enjoying her uncle’s discomfiture.

Except he didn’t seem all that put upon.

“Oh, that is too judicious,” Avery crowed.

“Alas, she broke my heart.” Heatherston pressed both black-gloved hands over his heart in the exaggerated way of a stage performer.

Oh, the lying rotter.

This would not do.

Heatherston’s dissembling might give his niece the wrong impression. What if she told others there was something between Emily and the duke?

No, that would never do.

Emily held up her hand, palm outward.

“I shall help Miss Levingtone with her Come Out if you agree to keep our interactions strictly professional.”

“Mrs. Grenville, don’t ye ken by now? I’d agree to anything ye asked of me just for the privilege of your pleasant company.”

Miss Levingtone giggled again. “This is going to prove quite entertaining, I think.”

With a will-you-never-cease glare, Emily pursed her lips. She’d brought this upon herself with her generosity of spirit. Pray she didn’t regret her impulsiveness sooner rather than later.

“Good day, Your Grace. Miss Levingtone.”

With a curt dip of her chin, she bid them farewell.

As she marched away, back stiff as a broomstick and heart beating an unacceptably excited staccato, the duke called, “We shall see ye at four, Mrs. Grenville. The ensuing hours shall be intolerable. Nonetheless, somehow, I shall survive.”

Miss Levingtone burst into peals of laughter, and her uncle’s deep baritone soon joined in the jollity.

What had Emily done?

“I’m out of my deuced mind.”