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“Perhaps,” Louisa said as she stood to take George off her hands. “Neither would be a bad match, Emma.”
Stanton was the second son of an earl, but as far as Emma knew, not looking for a wife since he just started an affair with the widowed Mrs. Ackerman. Emma wondered why Harry would think Stanton would be interested in her. He certainly didn’t need money with the fortune his grandmother had left him.
“I know,” Emma finally replied.
“I must go feed George before dinner,” Louisa said to them both. “Would you like some tea?”
“I would much prefer some sherry, if you don’t mind,” Mamma replied with a shiver.
“You go,” Emma said. “I will pour Mamma some sherry.”
“Thank you.” Louisa left just as George started to cry.
After pouring a glass of sherry for them both, Emma stood by the fire to dry her skirts.
“Emma, be a dear and find His Grace. I would like a word in private with him.”
“Yes, Mamma.” Emma wondered what her mother needed to speak with Harry about in private. The topic was most likely her and the gentlemen here tonight. She left the room and found a footman standing outside the salon.
“Where is His Grace?”
“In the billiard room, miss.”
“Thank you.” She assumed Harry was entertaining his guests with some billiards while they waited for dinner. When she walked into the room, she stopped seeing Kingsley leaning over the table to take a shot. The fabric of his trousers stretched over his buttocks, causing a rush of butterflies to take flight in her belly. His dark hair fell over his face, but he still managed to get a ball into the pocket.
“Emma, what are you doing down here?”
She smiled over at her brother-in-law, ignoring the glare she felt from Kingsley. “Mamma would like a word in private while Louisa settles George.”
Harry glanced between them both. “Would you like to return upstairs with me?”
“Or perhaps take over for Harry?” Kingsley asked. “You certainly couldn’t do any worse than him.”
Emma sipped her sherry and nodded to Kingsley. She couldn’t blame the sherry as she’d only had one taste. Perhaps it was the slight sound of a dare in the man’s voice. “I will take over.”
“Very well,” Harry said with a pointed look at his brother. “I will return in a moment.”
“If you must,” Kingsley said with a grin.
“I must,” Harry retorted before leaving the room.
“Come along, Miss Drake, take your stick.” Kingsley held out the long cue to her. “I assume you have played before?”
“Yes.” Emma smiled, not wanting him to know that she considered herself quite accomplished at the game. “I fear I am not any better than Harry.”
Kingsley leaned over to continue his turn but looked up at her with a smug grin. “Well, I am much better than Harry, so I believe this game will be over rather quickly. Harry is playing blue and has already lost a life.”
He missed the blue ball, and his white ball rolled into the center of the table. Kingsley stood and looked at her thoroughly.
Emma gasped, seeing the bruising on his nose and chin. The man was a scoundrel to be sure. “What happened to you?” she blurted.
Kingsley leaned nonchalantly against the billiard table. “I ran into a fist last night.”
“That is disgraceful. A man your age engaging in fisticuffs.”
Kingsley laughed. “The man who threw the punches has nearly twenty years on me.”
“You are despicable.”
