Page 10 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

“Only because you are constantly getting yourself into trouble,” George jested. “One of us needed to keep the focus for two,” he added with a light chuckle.

“And a half. Don’t forget Olivia,” Alex laughed.

Olivia had been their little appendage growing up, the little child who had followed them about everywhere. They reminisced a bit into the night and shared a good laugh.

However, George still couldn’t stop thinking about Miss Lovell, and the Baron’s words. She was intriguing. And now most dubious too. All the more reason for him to keep an eye on her.

CHAPTER 5

Emma purposefully delayed her breakfast the following morning, for she was in no mood for company—especially her parents’—after last night’s events. Finally, she made her way to the morning room, hoping it would be emptied by this time.

To her surprise, she found the Earl seated alone at the table. He was drinking some coffee while perusing the morning’s paper. He looked up on her entry and rose, greeting her cordially.

“I trust you had a pleasant night, Miss Lovell.”

“Most pleasant, My Lord. You have a very beautiful manor.”

Firman smiled. “You are very kind, Miss Lovell.”

Emma wasn’t sure if she should feel disappointed to find company in the morning room, which she had been avoiding, orbe glad for the opportunity and privacy she found with the Earl. Her parents would have wanted that after all.

She made her way to the sideboard to serve herself. And as she filled her plate with food she was barely interested in, a shadow suddenly appeared on her left.

“A lovely morning for scones, is it not?” a familiar and rather unwelcome voice said.

Emma looked up to the sight of Seymore grinning down at her. She returned his humor with a tight smile. It was all she could do not to roll her eyes and move away instead. The memory of his arms around her last night suddenly surfaced in her mind, and Emma quickly returned her gaze to the sideboard in an attempt to hide the warmth that stained her cheeks.Why am I feeling this way? I find this man most disagreeable!

“A morning is only lovely with good company, Your Grace,” she said flatly, moving to the egg dish and helping herself.

“And here I thought it was the food that defined the mood,” he said in ostensible thought as he picked up a plate and made to serve himself.

“The company makes all the impact on one’s appetite or the lack thereof, don’t you think?” she returned, hoping he would take the cue and leave her alone—as unlikely as that was. Seymore, she was coming to realize, was a man stubborn and persistent in his ways...

“I assume that is why you’re filling your plate, Miss Lovell. That you find the company pleasant enough to indulge heartily?” He quirked an insolent brow.

Emma tensed. “I am not one to allow such trivial matters get in the way of my repast,” she responded coolly, her posture stiffening.

“You wound me, Miss Lovell!” He winced, his hand theatrically clutching at his heart.

“Good,” she returned briskly, not bothering to mask the bite in her tone.

“What did I ever do to you to be so unwelcome?” He served himself some coddled eggs and sausages before moving on to the tomatoes, his movements deliberate.

“Is that even a serious question?” She was unable to believe the nerve of him.

“I suppose I have an idea of how I might have erred.” A smile played on his lips as he acknowledged their difficult past interactions. “You see, one’s plans do not always go as intended, Miss Lovell,” he added, and when she met his gaze, it was searching, intense enough that she suddenly felt invaded. His choice of words struck her as odd, too.

Surely, this is a coincidence.

There was something knowing in his gaze, however. Memories of the conservatory resurfaced, and this time, she was too slow in hiding her fluster; he saw it, and his smile turned sly—almost challenging.

Emma carried her plate from the sideboard and turned, only to see that the Earl was deep in conversation with a gentleman who had occupied one of the chairs next to him. So distracted had she been, she’d neither heard nor noticed the man’s entrance. Seymore appeared just as surprised.

Emma eyed the other empty chair next to the Earl and walked toward it. Seymore walked past her, his strides far more purposeful than her and covering the distance quicker. Her heart raced, and her ire rose. He took the seat and grinned at her, unabashed. Emma’s jaw clenched as she settled for the chair opposite and farther away from the Earl instead.

Firman then went on to introduce the gentleman next to him. He was a Viscount whose title she didn’t bother remembering in her indignation. She felt eyes on her and couldn’t help looking up. Seymore’s gaze was intense from across the table. The smugness about him was almost suffocating, and she struggled to maintain her composure. She took a sip of orange juice, the sweetness helping to calm her frayed nerves—but only slightly.

“It is most refreshing, indeed,” Emma commented aloud, attempting to divert her thoughts.

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