Page 37 of His Tempting Duchess

“Oh, Emmie, I miss you too,” Daphne sniffled, her voice sounding rather wet. “After the Season is over, Iinsiston you and Mama coming to stay with us. Edward has already agreed.”

Anna tutted. “Mama and Emily are already staying with me and Theodore, you’ll find.”

Some of Emily’s melancholy lifted as her two sisters began to squabble good-naturedly. They broke apart, arms still linked, and began to carry on down the muddy path.

“I suppose I’m just afraid of being left behind,” Emily murmured, once the half-hearted argument was over.

As far as she could tell, it had been decided that she and her mother would spend half of the weekend with Daphne and the other half with Anna.

“You won’t be,” Anna assured her firmly.

“Speaking of changes and moving on,” Daphne remarked, shooting her twin a shrewd look. “I couldn’t help but notice that you spent a good deal of time in Beatrice’s library last night. What caught your attention, I wonder?”

Emily bit her lip, pointedly not glancing at her older sister. Anna was staring at her, her eyes narrowed.

“I was reading that new book,” Emily responded haughtily. “Frankenstein. It’s very good.”

“The Duke of Clapton disappeared, too,” Anna added artlessly. “I know Beatrice had to invite him, but I’d have rather not seen him there. I wonder how he dared to show his face in Society. Awful man.”

Her stare intensified, and Emily fought harder not to glance at her. She’d never been much of a liar, and certainly no good at acting innocent. She had the strangest feeling that if she glanced at her older sister, she would blurt out everything that had happened between her and the duke in the library, down to theFrankensteinquotes.

She was saved, as usual, by Daphne.

“Oh, Lord,” Daphne gasped. “Don’t look now, but there are two gentlemen up ahead. Heavens, it’s too late to turn back.”

“You should not be thinking aboutgentlemen, Daphne—you are married,” Anna responded caustically.

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Anna,look. It’s the Duke of Clapton and his wretched cousin!”

All three of them stopped dead, staring.

Beyond the circle of the umbrella, the rain fell heavily around them, casting greyish veils over anything further away than a couple of feet. That was why Emily had not yet noticed the two men on horseback trotting towards them.

The men were crossing a long patch of grass, heading towards the muddy path. The sound of the horses’ hooves was entirely drowned out by the patter of raindrops on the umbrella.

“Your Graces!” called one of the men. “Miss Belmont, good day to you.”

She recognized his voice as that of Mr. St. John, the duke’s cousin, the one who had written her that awful, threatening letter. Her hand tightened on Daphne’s arm.

The horses were soaked, their manes plastered to their foreheads, water sleeting down their flanks. Their riders were similarly wet, with wide-brimmed top hats keeping the water off their faces, but not much else.

As if drawn by magnetism, Emily’s gaze slid up, meeting the duke’s eyes squarely. He was looking at her, his expression thoughtful. He inclined his head in greeting but said nothing.

“Heavens, ladies. Out walking in this weather?” Mr. St. John exclaimed.

Daphne bristled. “At least we’re only getting ourselves wet. Your poor horses are soaked!”

The duke spoke up then. “We went out for a long ride early this morning, duchess. When we left, the sky was cloudy but not overcast. We did not believe the rain would be this intense. As soon as it began, we turned around for home. Unfortunately, we had ridden quite far. You encounter us on the last leg of our journey. We chose to cross the Park to get home quicker, where our poor, long-suffering horses will be rubbed down with straw in their warm, cozy barns and then fed and watered.”

“I see,” Daphne responded, a little huffily. “That is fair enough, I suppose.”

She blinked, looking a little paler than before.

Anna frowned, eyeing her. “Daff? Are you all right?”

“I’m just a little tired,” Daphne murmured.

Emily caught her sister’s eye and swallowed back a rush of panic.

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