Page 28 of Dukes Do It Better
“Mm-hmm,” Emma’s breath caught on the affirmation. These two, the other guardians of her secrets, were such a gift. No need to elaborate, or to relive it, or to explain. They just knew.
Phee shifted over in the bed closer to her husband. Cal rolled to face them, then slid an arm around his wife, snuggling her close and resting his chin on Phee’s shoulder. “Milton again?”
Emma flung a wrapper and a wooden duck off the nearest chair, then grabbed a lap blanket off the footboard of the bed. Tucking the blanket around herself, she settled into the chair and rested her feet on the mattress. “I’m not sure why. It’s been ages since that bastard has haunted me. But this time it looped over and over. The sound of him hitting the desk was so loud, it woke me.”
“Did you do anything out of the ordinary tonight? Anything to spark the memory?” Phee asked.
Emma searched her mind. Out of the ordinary? Well, she’d been on a desk herself—climaxing with a man’s face between her legs. “Uh, I kissed Mal. Lord Trenton, I mean. More than kissed him.”
“I thought you said your visit to the inn last autumn was only a one-night thing?” Phee asked.
Cal groaned. “That’s my cue to go get coffee.”
Phee wiggled her eyebrows at Emma and they giggled, like little girls telling secrets.
“You’re comfortable with me talking of killing a man, but not sleeping with one, brother mine?”
Cal shrugged into his banyan and cinched the tie closed. “The difference here is that I’ve already disposed of the body of one man in question. Frankly, the pirate is a behemoth and would be an absolute beast to get rid of.” Cal gave Phee a short and sweet buss loaded with affection. “Phee, my love, I leave you to talk about boys without my judgmental presence. I’ll return with coffee shortly.”
The door closed behind him, and Phee sighed. “I love that man. Now, tell me all about your captain. Was last night the beginning of something or were you merely scratching an itch? Again.”
Remembering the thrill of having the burly sea captain alone in a dark room, Emma grinned. “A little of both, I think. He’s in town for only a few weeks. We’ve agreed to enjoy each other while he’s here.”
“You had fun last night?” Phee asked.
A warm sensation crept through Emma and she sighed. “I did. For the first time in years, I felt the magic I remember from my debut. The gentlemen lined up to dance with me, I had you and Adelaide to laugh with, and Mal quite turned my head. The night was going to end with me in his bed, but when I returned home the boys were ill.”
Phee was quiet a moment. “I wonder if that’s the answer.”
“Vomiting children are rarely the answer to anything, Phee.”
Her friend nudged Emma’s toes with a grin. “No, silly. You enjoyed yourself. Like you used to before Roxbury, before Alton. Before Milton. I wonder if the guilt you harbor served up the nightmare in an attempt to kill your joy.”
Emma stared up at the dark, plaster ceiling. “The theory has merit.” Phee would know. Not only had she been there the day Milton met his end, but Phee carried her own burden of guilt over accidentally pushing her brother out of a rowboat when they were children. Her brother, Adam, had drowned that fateful day and set Phee on a path that eventually led to Calvin.
What if it wasn’t only the guilt? What if it was her fear of making all the wrong choices again, and her mind was warning her of dire consequences? After all, her parents had never learned their lesson. Never learned to do or be better than their endless cycle of passionate declarations of love, then the inevitable yelling, name calling, and dramatic parting when one or both of them betrayed the other. Over and over, never caring who they hurt or embarrassed as they chased their sexual desires with the focus of a dog after a rabbit.
When Emma debuted, she’d taken one look at Devon Roxbury’s wide shoulders and confident grin and had proceeded to lie to everyone who loved her while she snuck around with a man they’d all warned her against. And for what? He’d shamed and abandoned her when their activities caught up with them. Like her parents, she’d fled and lied some more to hide her pregnancy. In the process, Milton had found them, and now years later he still haunted her. “Does the guilt ever lessen?”
Phee’s sigh was loud in the quiet room. “It changes. You need to forgive yourself. Not only was it self-defense, but he tripped. Knocking his head on a desk was sheer awful luck. And it goes without saying, Milton deserved worse than an accidental death.”
He had been an awful man. “How would you have preferred your uncle die?”
“Pecked to death by ducks.”
Emma snorted at the image.
When Phee continued, her voice held a smile. “Covered in honey and staked out in the sun atop an anthill. Stung a million times by wasps until his body swelled up like a balloon.”
Emma laughed outright. “Good lord, you’re a bloodthirsty wench.” The laughter subsided. “We’re awful to find humor in this, aren’t we?”
“Gallows humor helps to deal with the situation, I think. Milton was a horrible human being. He deserved to die for his sins. And I’m grateful he’s dead. You need to forgive yourself. Be happy. Allow yourself to be the belle of the ball and kiss a handsome man.”
“How about allowing myself to be thoroughly compromised atop a desk in a dark room at the ball?”
“Oh, well done, you. I take it Roger is doomed to rattle about all alone in his drawer for a while?”
“Lord, I hope so.” Emma sighed contentedly and rolled her head on the back of the chair to look at Phee. “Have I thanked you recently for being the best friend a woman could ask for?”
