Page 80 of Dukes Do It Better
“Haven’t we all?” He searched her face, then offered a gentle smile. “I swear on everything I hold dear, even if you throw me out on my ear, your secrets stop with me. I won’t tell a soul.”
Emma gulped, drained the cup of coffee in her hand, then glanced away from the man across from her. When she’d shared the details about her pregnancy weeks ago, he’d been nothing but kind as well. Yet, what he was asking of her meant confessing to more than Alton’s parentage.
The heavy wood desk sat on the other side of the room, as immovable as ever. Phee had said once that talking about how her brother died lessened the guilt she carried.
In the cave, Mal said he wanted everything. All or nothing. If she couldn’t offer the truth of herself, how could she begin to contemplate deeper feelings for him? Somewhere, under the fear that he’d be horrified by her confessions, a tiny part of her wanted to open up. Not to the world, but to him. If that little part proved to the rest of her that Mal could be trusted, talking about things like love and marriage would, by the default of logic, be easier.
“I killed a man. Right over there.” She pointed with a biscuit toward the bulky furniture, then shoved the sweet in her mouth. Around the crumbs, she said, “Not on purpose. He came after me, I pushed him away. He was a bad man, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? He bled out on the floor. Head wound from the corner of that desk.”
Mal glanced at the desk in question, then raised a brow. “I robbed my brother’s grave.”
A chunk of ginger biscuit stuck in her throat and she choked out a cough. A confession of grave robbery wasn’t the response she’d expected. The weight pressing on her chest lightened. Emma countered, “My marriage wasn’t legal. The whole thing was a sham.”
“My mother blackmailed the Admiralty to get me home, and when I was told she was in danger and facing possible treason charges, I had to think about it for hours before deciding to help her.”
“I had sex in the Vauxhall Gardens paths.” This conversation was ridiculous. A smile began to win over her anxiety.
Mal snorted a laugh. “Who hasn’t? I once had sex in the throne room of a Russian palace, with only a velvet curtain separating me and a minor princess from a room full of people.”
Emma gaped, and finally giggled. “If you were a woman, you’d be shunned for such loose behavior. What’s the word for a promiscuous man?”
“A lieutenant,” he said dryly.
Leaning forward, Emma snagged another biscuit from his plate. This was a competition now. “I’m keeping a man’s heir from him.”
“You forget, I’ve met the man in question. Alton and you deserve better.
“There’s only one piece of stolen art in the cave, and I feel so bad about taking it, I’ll probably donate it to the British Museum.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “As if you’d be the first to give stolen goods to the museum. I tried to blackmail my best friend to get her to lie about finding me at Vauxhall with Roxbury.”
“How’d you do that?”
“I kissed Adam, and then threatened to tell Cal about it and claim it was against my will.” The truth about Phee had slipped out, and Emma froze, wondering if he’d catch what she’d said.
Mal leveled a look at her. “Badly done, Emma. I might need more information. Perhaps the next time Phee is here, you could reenact the moment so I can make my final judgment.”
An incredulous laugh spilled free. Emma set down her cup and saucer and turned on the sofa to face him fully. “Does none of this bother you?”
For the rest of her days, she hoped she would remember the look on his face. Soft, amused, achingly adoring. “I told you. I love you. All of you.”
The parlor door flung open and her golden-haired boy barreled in with all the care of someone being shot from a cannon. Alton skidded to a stop and gasped. “Captain! You came!”
As if it was the most natural thing in the world, her son threw himself onto the sofa, landing halfway in Mal’s lap. He already had a mouthful of biscuit when he started chattering.
“Did you see the goats? Leonard is a good mommy, but my mama says Billy and Lily lack discipline.”
“I’ve met both of them now. They’re rascals.” Mal handed him another biscuit. “Is that where you were? Playing with Billy and Lily?”
Alton nodded, chewing. “They like to chase the chickens, and then the chickens say, ‘Bawk! Bawk!’” He flapped his arms in an impression of the disgruntled hens. “Then Barty, our rooster, tries to peck the goats. But I found seven eggs today with Polly. Have you met Polly? I’ll go find her.”
And just as fast as he’d arrived, Alton bolted out the door.
In unison, Emma and Mal sighed.
“He’s a whirlwind,” she said.
“He’s a happy boy who knows it’s safe to be himself. You’ve made a wonderful little human.”
