Page 29 of The Devilish Pleasures of a Duke

“Vulgar games?” She strode to Harriet’s chair. “I hope I have misheard. You did not sneak back to the rookeries last night and take along the other girls? You did not involve them in your former life?”

Harriet stood, her head bowed in an attitude of meekness. “No, Lady Lyons, upon my humble soul I did not commit the crime of which I am so unfairly charged.”

Miss Butterfield jumped out of her chair. “You dirty little gutter girl! Tell her what you did do, then. Tell her, Harriet Gardner.”

Harriet’s head jerked up. Fists raised, she shot around her chair like a pugilist only to be hauled back by Emma’s hand. “Who the bleedin’ ’ell are you calling dirty, I wanna know? Who the effin’—”

Emma clamped her other hand over Harriet’s mouth, effectively smothering what she knew from experience would be a blistering earful of shameful invective. Miss Butterfield smirked, only to be nudged back to her chair by Charlotte Boscastle.

Another girl popped up in her place. “Harriet didn’t leave the house. She made us all go upstairs and dared us to look at the duke’s heir.”

“The duke’s heir?” Emma said, aghast. “She disturbed Lord Wolverton?” She lowered her hand from Harriet’s mouth. “Whatever were you thinking?”

Harriet backed away from her. “I only wanted a peek at ’is nibs while he slept. That ain’t no crime, is it?”

One of the younger girls spoke. “She ordered us to look at him while he slept, Lady Lyons. She said that if we wanted to marry a duke, we had to see what one looked like in the dark.”

Emma did not dare ask what they had seen.

Less than an hour later Adrian was reconsidering the wisdom of prolonging his recuperation as an underhanded method of attracting Emma’s continued attention. He was not even sure he could tolerate being laid up for another day. The rough-hearted men who had fought under him would burst their sides with hysterics if they could see him taking breakfast in bed.

He who had refused brandy when he’d been stitched up by a surgeon from wrist to scapula with only a stick clenched between his teeth to stifle his screams of pain. Hell. The surgeon had been drunk and sweating more than Adrian.

If he remained in this house for another hour, it would only be for one reason. Which had absolutely nothing to do with injury or enfeeblement. It had everything to do with his desire to be near Emma Boscastle.

And since she’d made it painfully clear she wished nothing further to do with him, he would have to be a little more subtle about how he went about it. He would have to prove himself to her. As he’d never bothered about making an impression before, and as he was anything but subtle in manner, he perceived he had a problem.

So he loitered in bed a little longer, studying the church spires and gray sky through the window.

Unfortunately, he had not pondered long before another visitor interrupted his concentration. He groaned inwardly as he recognized Emma’s cousin, Sir Gabriel Boscastle, a handsome gambler and hard-seasoned soldier with a dark sense of humor who had walked on the dangerous side of life a few times himself. He’d been at odds with his London cousins in the past. It appeared the two factions of the family had made amends. “Look at our little patient. I heard you ruined a perfectly good chair with your head yesterday.”

Adrian snorted. Gabriel was a man’s man, a lady’s man, and had lived as many years on the fringe of Society as he had. “I might just jump out of bed and throttle the next person who reminds me of that humiliating fact.”

Gabriel broke into a grin. “At least they’ve got your head resting on pretty silk cushions. Would you like me to bring you some flowers?”

Adrian laughed reluctantly. “I thought I might start reading fashion magazines.”

“All jesting aside, are you all right?” Gabriel inquired, swinging his long legs over a stool.

“How do I look?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Damned peculiar on that chaise, I have to say. Why are you still here, anyway?”

“I suppose I am easily amused.”

Gabriel lowered his voice. He’d been born with the dark Boscastle beauty and passion for life. “You don’t know what you’re up against.”

Adrian angled forward, his interest piqued. “Explain.”

“Escape, my friend, while you have the chance. This is not a place for men like us who value their freedom.”

“I suppose you’re referring to the young ladies of the academy,” Adrian retorted. “I believe I can keep them at bay.”

“Hell, not them,” Gabriel said rudely. “I mean the headmistress, Emma. Get out of this house and run for your life before her gloves of doom grasp you in their dainty but deadly clutches.”

Now Adrian’s curiosity was not merely piqued, it was aroused uncontrollably. “Run from Emma? She’s half my size,” he mused. And more than twice his weight in spirit.

Gabriel smiled darkly. “Once she realizes what a miserable past you’ve led, she will move heaven and earth to make your life one of duty and decency.”