Page 4 of Dukes Do It Better
“You shall unhand me at once, and never touch me again. Do I make myself clear, Lord Roxbury?” The words had to work past her clenched jaw. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma spotted her sister-in-law, Phee, chattering animatedly with Alton while leading him farther away. Bless her. Phee knew Emma’s top priority would be keeping Alton away from the scene her unwanted companion seemed determined to create.
Roxbury released her arm with clear reluctance. “I’ve called twice this week and your prick of a butler says you’re not at home.”
It took every ounce of her self-control to not roll her eyes. “I have no interest in renewing an acquaintance with you, Lord Roxbury.” She made a note to thank Higgins when she returned to the house. The aging butler had had his hands full these past few weeks. Not only dealing with houseguests and the young master’s birthday celebration, but keeping unwanted callers like Roxbury at bay.
He grinned, and for a second, she glimpsed what had caught her eye so many years before. Devon had a great smile. Charming, persuasive, and distracting. Many women besides her had been taken in by his smile while he lied through his teeth.
“So formal, my love,” he said.
Emma couldn’t help grimacing in disgust. A week prior he’d been dancing attendance on a well-dowered wallflower. The girl was young and sweet and didn’t deserve to be stuck with this reprobate for the rest of her life. After an anonymous note to the girl’s father, the match everyone had been expecting fizzled abruptly. The resulting speculation in the gossip pages had made her smile into her coffee cup.
Sending that note had been Emma’s good deed for the week. Unfortunately, the interference had unexpected consequences. Namely, Roxbury’s full attention was now focused on her, instead of divided between two women with money and empty ring fingers.
Emma tucked a lock of hair back under her bonnet as she wished her former lover to the devil. “I’m not your love. I’m not your anything. If you call on me, I won’t be at home. You and I have no relationship, no ties.”
Roxbury’s smile turned flinty, with an edge that threatened to slice her world apart as he tilted his head to study her, then glanced toward where Alton stood near the river. “I’d say we have quite a few ties, Emma. Pity the boy is so small. The men in my family are usually strapping lads from a young age.”
She swallowed a wave of acid back down her throat, forcing her expression into something neutral. “Adam wasn’t a large man, but he was a good man. I’d be thrilled if his son grows to look like him.” She’d lived the lie for so many years, it no longer tasted wrong on her tongue, but throwing it so blatantly in Roxbury’s face sent a spike of anxiety straight through her.
His smile disappeared, and he wrapped a hand around her arm, dragging her close enough that his hot breath hit her face, ripe with stale liquor. “You stole my fiancée—I know it was you. And you stole my heir. Next time I call, you’ll receive me, or everyone in London will see who his father really is.”
The pressure of his fingers sent panic tightening her chest as doubt crept in. Devon Roxbury, biological father to her child and all-around rotter, sounded earnest in his threat. Unlike her, he’d been in London all this time and had a full roster of friends, allies, and dupes. If he spoke against her and her son, people would believe him. He could ruin Alton’s future with his twisted version of the truth.
Why couldn’t she have left well enough alone and let him marry his wallflower? She winced under the pressure of his fingers and forced a breath into her lungs. Memories of how Roxbury had sneered at, shamed, and then abandoned her when she’d told him she was pregnant, rose to the forefront of her mind. The wallflower deserved happiness, and Roxbury hadn’t changed. That’s why.
The truth stiffened her spine until Emma jerked free of his hold. “She deserves better than a man like you.”
She braced as he opened his mouth for a no-doubt scathing retort.
“There you are, darling. So sorry I left you to the wilds of the park. I didn’t realize there were so many dangers about.” The deep voice from behind her sent a wave of gooseflesh rippling down her back. The last time she’d heard that voice, it had rumbled in her ear with aroused disappointment as she’d crept from his bed at the inn in Olread Cove. The sun had been peeking over the windowsill, and knowing Alton would be awake soon drove her from his arms and back to real life.
Captain Malachi Harlow, in the flesh.
And what mighty appealing flesh it was. His rough palm, warmer and more solid than her memories, seared her lower back as he slipped into place beside her. The hard chest she’d explored with her hands, and those wide shoulders she’d clung to, blocked the sun and cast a shadow over Roxbury’s wide eyes. Harlow did make quite an impact on the senses. Rather like a blunt force blow to the side of the head—enough to scramble your wits and steal a breath or two.
Emma loosed her sweetest smile on the captain. “Lord Roxbury was just saying goodbye. You returned at the perfect moment.” She turned to Devon. “You were preparing to take your leave, weren’t you, milord? I’m certain a gentleman such as yourself wouldn’t want to intrude on our private outing.” For emphasis, she stepped closer to Captain Harlow’s firm heat. Bay rum, made more potent by the man’s body and the sun’s warmth, hit her nose, flooding her with a feeling of safety. Even if for one moment, it was a relief to not face Roxbury alone.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” Malachi slipped one hand around her waist and offered the other to Devon.
The men shook hands in a parody of civility. “Lord Devon Roxbury. Former friend of Lady Emma.” The man’s chest puffed like a peacock, as if he could somehow claim her by proclamation alone.
“Captain Harlow of His Majesty’s Royal Navy, and the Duke of Trenton. Current friend of Emma,” the man beside her said.
Duke? Emma shot him a glance, but saw only a distractingly hard jaw and heavy brows bisected by a scar.
The two men stared at one another long enough that no one could mistake their exchange as friendly before Roxbury stepped away and cut a shallow bow in her direction. “Good day, Lady Emma,” he said, then turned on his heel and made a hasty retreat.
She and Malachi held their cozy pose until Roxbury and his mount rounded the curve and disappeared.
“Duke of Trenton?” She whirled around in his loose embrace.
“Lady Emma?” he countered, arching his scarred brow.
At the base of her spine, his fingers flexed, urging her to sway closer. “I don’t use the honorific in Olread Cove. It would have made a fuss.”
His pale hazel gaze flicked toward the path Roxbury had taken. “And he’s part of the reason you didn’t want a fuss, I take it.”
A shrug would be the only answer he’d get from her. Emma wrestled her wits back from the pull of emotion he’d created by standing so close. They were in a public park, and their physical relationship had been months ago—even if their night did show up in her dreams on a regular basis. She blew out a breath and backed away. He let her go, but a frown twitched at the corner of his mouth.
