Page 62 of Dukes Do It Better
“What did it say?” Phee asked.
“Consequences.”
Cal shook his head. “What does that even mean? What’s his motive? Why threaten your family while…”
“Having sex with me,” Emma said. “Those are the words you were looking for, brother.” Or making love to her—which is what it had begun to feel like. A dry piece of skin at her cuticle snagged on her wrapper and Emma gave it her whole attention while she spoke. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. Having one of those notes is pretty damning. But why would he do such a thing? How could he do such a thing? How do you threaten your lover, but be so convincingly good face-to-face?”
Now that the words were coming, she couldn’t seem to stop them. “I’m not a fool. Sex does not equal love. Hell, our parents taught us that. We saw it over and over growing up. Lovers are disposable. But I thought…” She’d thought he was different. She’d thought she was finding her way to making better decisions about her relationships. Managing expectations, ensuring the person she spent time with was a decent person and kind to not only her, but to her son.
Phee reached over and covered Emma’s hand. “Don’t pick at your cuticles, Em. Not every lover is disposable. Some partners are made for keeping.” Phee was using her soothing mommy voice, and Emma hated to admit it was working. The tension in her shoulders began to seep away. Maybe there was something to this deliberate sharing of secrets and honesty. It was hard not to wonder if her mother had ever tried it, or if she’d hopped from bed to bed thinking she’d somehow stumble upon this kind of intimacy and safety. No, it wasn’t an intimacy that came from being naked with a lover. Even amid the heartbreak over Mal’s betrayal, she could acknowledge a wave of gratitude for these members of her family.
“I don’t know what any of this means. The note, the reason for stealing your journal—any of it,” Phee said, pulling Emma back to the subject at hand.
“I think the timing is suspect as well. Didn’t the problems with the Amesburys begin around the same time Mal returned to London? Unfortunately, it all lines up when you think about it,” Emma said. Although no matter how she examined possible motives, she couldn’t think of a reason that Mal would do such a thing. What did he have to gain? The blackmailer had demanded cash from Lottie and Ethan. And seemed to be focusing on the investment side of finances for Ethan and Phee as well, from what she’d overheard.
Malachi was a duke. He didn’t need money. Which left one thing: a personal vendetta. Grudges were rarely logical, but damned if she could figure this one out.
A rap on the door brought their conversation to a halt.
“Pardon me,” Higgins said. “The Duke of Trenton has come to call on Lady Emma.”
She went cold at the name. Emma darted a look between Phee and Cal, shaking her head. “I don’t think I can face him.”
Phee swallowed so hard, Emma could hear it from her chair. “We can’t just ask him to explain, I suppose?”
Cal shot his wife a disbelieving look, and Emma copied it, then addressed the butler. “Please tell His Grace I’m not receiving visitors today. I’m not feeling well and expect to be indisposed for several days.”
Higgins nodded and closed the door behind him.
“You can’t avoid him forever, Em. Society in London is too limited,” Cal said, with a worried groove between his eyebrows. “As much as it pains me to say it, if the threat is here in Town, I’d sleep easier knowing you were far away in Olread Cove.”
Phee rubbed her fingers over her forehead and sighed. “As a professional runner from my problems, I have to caution you. Running rarely works in the long term. But since this is a matter of safety, I have to agree with Calvin.”
The door to the breakfast room opened and a footman entered with a salver. “Post, milord.”
“Thank you, Charles.” Cal flipped through the envelopes, then paused and examined one in particular. “Emma, you have mail. Looks to be from the property manager in Olread Cove.”
“Perfect. I shall return to my house—one I’ll own—and everything will be fine. Normal, even. No handsome pirate or reprobate Roxbury.” She snagged the letter from her brother’s outstretched hand and slid her fingernail under the wax seal as she smiled at Phee with a lightness she didn’t feel. “See? It will all work out.”
The note was shorter than she expected. Emma read it through once, then began again, digesting the words Mr. Williams had scrawled across the page.
“Are they counter offering?” Cal asked, spreading butter on a slice of toast.
Words felt nearly impossible, but Emma choked them out. “No. I’m being evicted.”
Silverware clattered to the table and Phee whirled to face her. “What? Evicted? On what grounds?”
Being punched in the gut would hurt less. Tears pooled along her lower lashes as Emma struggled for breath. “Mr. Williams thanks me for my years of timely payments and being a model tenant, but the owner of the house intends to take up residence, so I’ll need to move out.”
“Who’s the owner? Perhaps we can appeal directly to him with a higher offer,” Cal said, already in a problem-solving frame of mind.
A tear splashed onto the letter, splattering ink into a smear. “According to Mr. Williams, the property is owned by the Duke of Trenton. I’m being evicted on the order of Malachi.”
“Son of a bitch,” Cal and Phee said in unison.
“What on earth have I done to make him hate me?” Emotional numbness set in, and frankly, it was a relief. Betrayal wasn’t an unfamiliar beast, but goodness, this hurt. Out of nowhere, to be the victim of this level of duplicity absolutely took her breath away. The agony of it served only to highlight how deep she’d let Mal into her heart. Memories of his protectiveness with Alton, the deep rumble of his laugh, the wicked spark he’d get in his pale hazel eyes before kissing her. All of it had been a lie.
Yes, numbness was far preferable to all that.
