Page 49 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
“It’s a mark of great honor that we were invited,” Emmeline said at the breakfast table, running her fingers over the thick invitation card. “And to think she sent a personal letter along with it.”
“No,” Adam said shortly, scanning the newspaper as he did every day in case some news emerged about his brother’s whereabouts. “I have no intention of attending.”
He could think of nothing worse. People in Society would expect him to smile and be merry, to dance and behave as they all did, but he felt as though there was a collar around his neck, holding him down and preventing him from smiling with gay abandon. His brother was dead. He was barely out of official mourning. It would take more than a single party to restore a sense of overwhelming joy.
Emmeline laid the letter down. “What do you mean?”
“I have no great liking of balls.”
“And what about me?” she demanded, her cheeks reddening with ire. “What about my preferences? I love to dance. And I would not dream of snubbing Lady Rochester. Think, Adam! If she thinks I slighted her, I shall find few other friends in London.”
“You overestimate her reach.”
“I do not! Pray, what would you know of Society when you have not been living in it until recently?”
He snapped his jaw shut. “I am a duke, Emmeline. Doors will open wherever I go, and as my wife, you will find they are open for you also.”
“And that is enough for you? To walk through life respected because of your title and nothing else?”
His eyes narrowed. If she was hoping he would somehow turn into someone more like his brother, she would be mistaken, and indeed disappointed.
“I still have many affairs to put in order. I have no time for a ball.” Even as he said the words, however, he felt her disappointment.
“No time for a ball,” she repeated flatly. “You have time to take a single evening to fulfill a social engagement?”
“I have a proposal,” Rickard said, and Adam knew instinctively where this was going. “Why don’t I accompany you, Your Grace? That way, the Duke can remain home, and you can attend the ball to which you’ve been invited.”
Emmeline turned her smile on Rickard, and Adam felt as though his skin was too tight for his body.
“Does this truly mean that much to you?” he asked her, hearing the curtness in his voice and feeling the jealousy rise in him again.
Until now, he had never been a jealous man.
Then again, there had never before been anything in his life that he feared losing. Emmeline was his in the eyes of the law, but he knew he did not own her. And as much as he despised dancing, much as he hated being in public and the way people looked at him, risking Emmeline over it was not worth it.
“I’ve told you yes,” she said. “And if you have no intention of attending with me, I will go with Rickard.”
The other man gave him a quick smile. “I would keep her safe,” he promised. “You have nothing to fear from me.”
Nothing but the man’s infernal laughter, which appeared to be on tap. “No need,” Adam said, his voice a low growl. “If my wife wishes to attend a ball, then a ball she will attend.”
ChapterFifteen
Emmeline dressed for the ball in a daring red gown, the boldest dress she owned. This was her debut as a married woman, and although she had never put much stock behind it before she was married, today was different.
This was her saying to the world that she was desirable enough to have attracted a duke. And not just any duke—the Duke of Kant. To be sure, he might be seen as cold and disagreeable, but she knew better than that. She knew the heat that lay underneath, the passion, the way he had wanted her.
If she had her way, he would want her tonight.
When she was ready and it was time to take the carriage, she descended the stairs into the great hall. Adam was waiting for her, his face tilting up to see her as she took her skirts in one gloved hand and allowed the other to rest lightly on the banister.
Look at me, she commanded silently.Marvel at me.
As she descended, she watched his face. The tick in his jaw when he saw her, the way his eyes darkened, the bare hunger in them that made her stomach clench.
“My lady wife,” he said as she approached, taking her hand in his.
The difference in size between their fingers made her think of the way his hands had felt between her legs, and she blushed, hoping he could not read her thoughts on her face.
