Page 76 of The Devilish Pleasures of a Duke

He paused, took a breath, and opened the closet door only to rear back in alarm at the indignant shriek that met his assault.

“Oh, my heavens. Oh, God almighty, Hermia—I had no idea. I had no—”

Lady Dalrymple stood before him, unwigged, her hands on her hips, her ample bosom quivering in its multitude of wrinkles. “I do hope you have an explanation for this violation, Sedgecroft.”

Grayson stood in stone-faced shock, unable to utter a word in his own defense, until Heath, laughing, pulled him aside. “It’s over.”

“What the devil do you mean?” Grayson demanded, stumbling back out into the hall.

“We have been trounced,” Heath said with a rueful grin. “It is time to beat a retreat.”

“Did you find him?” Devon called up from the entrance hall below.

Hamm’s gravelly voice resounded behind him. “Lord Wolverton has not passed through the front doors, my lords. I have stayed at my post as you requested. There is no possible way that he has escaped our guard.”

Grayson turned to Heath with an irate expression. “Are you absolutely certain that Wolf was here in the first place?”

Heath shook his head. “I should have known,” he muttered in admiration. “I did know.”

Grayson looked at him in disgust. “Then why didn’t you take appropriate action?”

Heath smiled.

Emma had stayed awake all night, or what remained of it, whispering about her secret engagement to Adrian with her conspirators Chloe, Julia, Charlotte, and Aunt Hermia. Now that she had accepted Adrian’s proposal, and had admitted to herself what was in her heart, she saw no reason not to share her delight.

In a decorous manner befitting a future duchess, it was to be hoped, and if her dignity had slipped—then so be it. She and Adrian had a life ahead of them during which to make amends.

“The girls will have to learn to address you as ‘your grace,’” Charlotte said, stretched across Emma’s bed with a dreamy expression and a glass of champagne in her hand.

Jane’s footman, Weed, had delivered four bottles of Grayson’s prized Dom Pérignon less than an hour after the marchioness returned home from her successful escapade in the name of amour. Chloe had expertly unpopped the cork barks to toast her older sister with the sparkling wine made famous by a humble Benedictine monk, whose profits he donated to the poor.

“It gives being in one’s cups a charitable aspect,” Chloe announced with glee.

Emma’s eyes brightened. “Then drink up, all!”

“To the Boscastles and their friends!” Hermia said stoutly.

“How do we tell the girls about your engagement, Emma?” Charlotte asked softly.

Emma stared down into her glass. “I’m not quite sure. I do know that I cannot simply abandon the academy without a backward glance.”

“Why the devil not?” Hermia wondered aloud, her voice faintly slurred. “I never knew as much contentment in my life as when I gave in to impulse. There. I have said it. My secret is revealed. The world beware. I am a dangerous woman.”

“Only to handsome young men who resemble Greek gods,” Charlotte said unthinkingly.

Her niece Julia burst into laughter, and it was not long before the other ladies followed suit. Emma slid off the chaise in alarm. “Ladies, please. We must—we must—”

“—drink more champagne,” said Chloe, lifting the bulbous-necked bottle into the air. “Oh, Emma, Emma, who would have guessed you were capable of honoring our ancestry? I swear I shall go to my grave with a smile on my face. Adrian is the most adorable rogue, and now he shall be my brother-inlaw. Our family infamy lives on, and I am not at all ashamed.”

Soon they subsided into weary silence. Charlotte picked up her shoes, kissed Emma, and left to check on the other girls and seek her bed. Hermia fell asleep on the chaise. Julia covered her with a warm counterpane and tiptoed through the house to join her husband for what remained of the night. Emma and her little sister Chloe snuggled in bed together as they had often done in childhood. In joyful times, and in sad, Emma had gladly mothered her wild siblings. And now they would have to manage without her. But could she let go of them?

Chloe rested her head on Emma’s shoulder. “If I gave in to my wicked impulses, I would cast up all those occasions during which you lectured us on—”

“Do not turn wicked,” Emma said sternly, then softened the effect of this admonishment with a sigh. “Not when I am so thoroughly chastising myself and—bubbling over with happiness.”

“Then nothing shall spoil it,” Chloe whispered. “Live, Emma, enjoy life.”

Emma sighed again, smiling at the memory of Adrian escaping her room in Hermia’s wig and cloak. What if her brothers had caught him? What if one of her students had awakened in the midst of his gamble? It was sobering enough to consider what would become of the academy once her betrothal was announced.