Page 72 of The Devilish Pleasures of a Duke

He straightened with a soft laugh of resignation. “Then it is an ambush. I suppose there’s nothing to do but face them together. Every possible means of escape is blocked. Devon must be at the front of the house.”

Emma rose, backing away from him. “I would rather stay in my room for the rest of my life than face my brothers in a situation like this. They will make my life miserable and relish every moment.”

“There will not be any blame laid at your door,” he assured her. “I’m the one who’s going to get thrashed. Make sure I have a proper burial, won’t you?”

She blanched at the mere thought of a confrontation in her bedchamber between Adrian and her brothers. She could only pray that they would control their outrage and remember her students, whom Emma had failed. The scandal of her affair would be emblazoned across the broadsheets by morning for all of London to behold. She could just imagine Alice Clipstone cackling with vengeful glee upon learning how her rival had been caught in an affair of passion.

She smiled suddenly. Adrian was right, though. Caught or not, their stolen night together had been worth it. His love meant more to her than her reputation, which still mattered, for she did not want to taint others by association. But—bliss, passion, the love of her life.

He was worth it.

And he did need her.

He moved back toward the bedroom. She trailed after him. “You’re wrong,” she murmured. “It’s me they’ll wish to thrash. I have been anything but humble in pursuing their best interests.”

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, swinging around to stare at her. “Your brothers would hurt you?”

She shook her head impatiently. “Not in a physical manner. But I shall be forced to listen to their mockery for the rest of our lives. The rogues would love nothing better than to catch me in a lapse after all the lectures I have delivered. Moral compass of the family, I called myself.”

“It’s my fault, though.” He grasped her hands in his. “I led you into this, Emma. Would you have ever had a liaison with another man?”

“Of course not.” She drew a breath and forced a wobbly smile. “Fine. Then we’ll face it together. We shall be brave—”

Someone knocked softly on the main door of her bedchamber suite. She gasped, suddenly not feeling brave at all.

“Do you want me to answer that?” he offered.

“Hide in the closet until I tell you to come out,” she whispered. “Perhaps I can convince whoever it is to go away.”

He laughed ruefully. “Do you think there’s a chance?”

She swallowed. “I think Napoleon has a better chance of escaping from Elba than you do of leaving this room undetected.”

Adrian allowed her to take two valiant steps toward the door before deciding he would have to intervene. He strode past her, not giving her time to stop him. He’d meant what he said about being together for the rest of their lives, and he might as well prove himself a man of his word.

His gaze met Emma’s. She looked so poised and self-possessed that for an instant he reconsidered. He wasn’t a skilled diplomat or a master of manners. But then male pride won out.

And he opened the door.

Chapter Sixteen

Heath entered the maid’s antechamber that adjoined Emma’s small suite. His brother Grayson was prowling restlessly in the confined space. “Anything of interest to report?”

“Yes. There is a squeaky floorboard in front of the window.”

Heath chuckled quietly. “No sign of the two lovers?”

“Not a peep.” Grayson stretched his arms over his head. “What about the other women?”

“As far as I can tell they are still in the drawing room gossiping away. Jane is here, by the way.”

“Jane?” Grayson appeared surprised for only a moment. “I see. Ah, well. Perhaps she’s hoping for some advice on her new shoes.”

Heath hesitated. “Let’s hope so.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Just a feeling. With all those women gathered together—”