Page 52 of The Devilish Pleasures of a Duke

He sighed.

“Hello, Wolf,” Devon said, throwing his arm around Adrian’s broad shoulder. “Come to show off your ancestry today? There’s a crowd gathered in the street to see who owns that fancy piece. Let’s rescue you from the dangerous little debutantes and take a drive around the park. Innocence can be rather overwhelming at times, don’t you think?”

What Adrian thought, as he was skillfully escorted into the presence of Emma’s three masterful brothers, was that he had just been given another friendly warning that their sister was under their protection.

At least until such time as another man assumed the responsibility. And as Adrian had come to the decision that he was the most appropriate, the only current candidate for her affections, he would need permission from her brothers to court her. This posed a dilemma, considering the promise he had made to her. For now he was forced to pretend she was a mere friend.

He wouldn’t impress Emma by embarrassing her. Would she think better of him if he visited his father? He frowned. He supposed he appeared to be a coward in her eyes by avoiding the inevitable. And to his surprise, being in the company of the close-knit Boscastles had made him wish to see his own brother and sister. He remembered that they had cried when he left home. Had they found happiness?

“Has Grayson seen that gilded monstrosity of yours?” Heath asked as they walked back to the door that looked upon the street. “I vow he’ll be quite jealous.”

“It arrived from my father only this morning.” Adrian paused. He knew better than to assume Heath would believe he’d wandered into the ballroom by mistake. Or that after only three days he had missed Heath’s company.

Heath confirmed his hunch in the next instant. “I suggest you take a drive over to visit Grayson in the next week or so. I’m sure he would be interested in talking with you.”

And not about carriages, either, if Adrian understood what Heath meant. Grayson Boscastle, the fifth Marquess of Sedgecroft, was the family’s patriarch and former scoundrel himself. He was the man to grant dispensation as well as to issue social death sentences.

Heath’s message could not have been clearer. If Adrian intended to pursue Emma, he would have to ask permission of Grayson first and declare himself.

And he would. He honestly would. Just as soon as he persuaded Emma he was sincere and proved to her that even a ruthless misadventurer could be redeemed.

Perhaps in the course of this endeavor, he might even persuade himself that his redemption was possible.

Sir Gabriel Boscastle glanced back from the entrance of the town house at the ducal carriage that swept down the street. An audience of admiring pedestrians, street vendors, and urchins had congregated to witness its departure. “That wasn’t Adrian, was it?” he asked his cousin Heath a few minutes later, after a housemaid had directed him to the library. “One would think he were a—”

“—duke?” Lord Drake Boscastle said with a cynical smile. He and Gabriel had been at odds in the past, but since Drake’s recent marriage to his governess, their old enmity had begun to fade away. “He and Devon have gone driving. You can probably catch up with them if the crowd lets you through.”

Heath was seated at his massive military desk, his arms folded behind his head. As usual his expression revealed nothing of his thoughts. “Are you coming with us to the opera tonight, Gabriel?”

“Of course,” he said, nodding gratefully at the glass of sherry Drake had poured him. “I never sleep so soundly as during an aria.” He paused. “There is a definite pall over this gathering. Have I done something to offend anyone? I know that in the past, we were not as close as—”

“We have a slight family problem.” Drake glanced at his brother. “Do you think we should tell him?”

Heath laughed shortly. “You damn well have to now, after dangling that tidbit under his nose.”

Gabriel shook his head, his face amused. “Does this mean I’m actually to be included in some Boscastle intrigue—and do I want to be?”

“It’s Emma,” Drake said.

“And Wolf.” Heath ran his hand through his thick black hair. “Emma and Adrian. An improbable pairing if ever there was one.”

Gabriel took a long swallow of sherry. “Stranger affairs have occurred throughout English history. Take Nell Gwyn, an orange girl, made a duchess by the king.”

“A duchess. Now there’s a point. Adrian isn’t married. His father will be arranging a suit.” Heath glanced meaningfully at Drake. “I think this calls for a family cabal before Emma is involved beyond our help.”

“Grayson is in Kent until Friday, teaching Rowan how to hunt,” Drake replied.

“The boy can’t even walk yet,” Gabriel exclaimed, choking on his drink. “Isn’t it a bit early for him to be shooting a gun?”

“Not if you’re being groomed as the next marquess,” Heath said with a mordant laugh. “Drake, I say we meet on Friday evening. Will you do the honors of making sure that Devon attends? I would invite Dominic but he and Adrian are too close. It isn’t fair to put him on the spot.”

“So I am included?” Gabriel asked, looking pleased.

Drake grinned at him. “It wouldn’t be a complete cabal without your jaded perspective, cousin.”

“A caution.” Heath held up one hand. “The women are not to be informed. As dearly as we love them, their interference must be avoided at all costs. We do not want emotion to cloud whatever we decide.”

Gabriel finished his sherry. “My lips are stitched shut.”