Page 11 of Married Off by the Duke
“Where were you this morning, Miss Willis?—”
She raised one finger.
“We agreed. My mornings are mine to do with as I please. I am not obligated to report my whereabouts to you.”
His lips parted as if to protest. She suddenly remembered the feeling of them pressed to her own. Flutters in her stomach. Still, Emma held her ground. Max’s mouth flattened fractionally before he tipped his head to one side, indicating concession.
“What adventure do you have planned for us today, Miss Willis, that requires such a hearty meal?” He held out a dish of fresh fruit and scooped several spoonfuls onto her plate. Apparently, His Grace didn’t mind her eating like a glutton. Emma was famished after rushing around all morning on her secret mission to find a job.
“I wish to compete in a regatta,” she declared, around a mouthful of ham and cheese sandwich. “Do you happen to know any boaters?”
“As in, rowing?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “All those strong men, pulling in unison. Not to mention those shirts they wear.”
Max choked.
“Henley. The shirt is called a Henley.” He sat straighter. “It’s early in the season yet. Regattas aren’t held until July. I do have a few chums from my school days who maintain their boating club access for practice. I suppose I could call in a favor. Are there any other unfeminine pursuits you’d like to experience?”
“Polo,” Emma said. She might as well use the opportunity to try as many things as possible while he was feeling indulgent. “I wouldn’t mind trying my hand at gambling, although I couldn’t afford to lose any money. You’d have to bankroll me.”
“And here I was hoping you might settle for riding astride.” He sighed. “I should’ve known you’d choose outlandish activities.”
“Do you think I could?” she asked with interest. “Ride astride?”
“You’ll have to if you’re serious about learning to play polo.”
Emma hmmed thoughtfully. “What about a horse race?”
“We can race in Hyde Park if you give up your secret morning activity.”
“Not like that, Max. I want to race on a proper track.”
“I admit, that does sound interesting.”
“Does that mean you’ve never tried it before?”
“Of course not. I cannot risk my neck before I’ve secured an heir. I refuse to be the man who breaks eight generations of primogeniture.”
“You anticipate becoming a father, then,” Emma asked. A piece of ham lodged uncomfortably in her throat.
“It is expected of a duke.”
“Yes, but you’re more than a duke. You’re also a man.”
When Emma lifted her gaze to his, sparks might as well have flashed at the contact.
“You noticed.”
Heat steamed her face.
“Finish up, darling. Before I can take you boating, you have an appointment.”
“I do?”
“Remember my instructions to Adkins and Pindell yesterday evening?”
“To visit at half-past two if their intentions were sincere?”
