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“I am not about to fall prey to Mr. Kingsley’s charms. Nor do I have any desire to marry the man.” Or any man, but her sister didn’
t need to know that yet. The freedom she now enjoyed as a rejected unmarried lady had bolstered her self-confidence. Kingsley’s charms were dark, mysterious, and rather seductive in a way that truly frightened her.
“I see the way he looks at you.” Louisa tilted her head and stared at the image of her son coming to life. “I do believe he desires you. I can only hope that his relationship with Harry and me will keep him from attempting anything unsavory.”
“He has never been anything but a gentleman toward me.” Emma refused to think about what he’s said about kissing her. The idea of Simon Kingsley’s lips on her was appalling. Even if he did have a beautiful, sensual mouth. No! His kisses would be shocking, wouldn’t they?
She couldn’t think of Simon Kingsley or his kisses any longer.
Emma glanced out the window and noticed a shower had crept over the area. A grim reminder of the day not so long ago when the world discovered the truth about Harry’s father. She wondered how things might have been different if the late duke hadn’t taken his own life.
How different would her life have been if Bolton hadn’t rejected her? Would she have been married to him by now? Perhaps a child of her own on the way. She doubted that would have made her happy. Bolton would never have stood up to his mother’s demands. No matter who called off the engagement, marrying Bolton would have been a disaster, locking her into a marriage she would have hated.
“What are you thinking about?” Louisa asked, pulling Emma’s sketches closer.
Not wanting Louisa to find Kingsley's drawing, Emma slid the sketch of George toward her sister and placed the rest in the portfolio where she kept them. “Bolton.”
“Bolton? Why?” Louisa asked with a frown.
“It’s that kind of day. One to remember the past and figure out how to navigate the future.” Emma rose and placed the folder on her bed. “And I would truly like a drink.”
Louisa laughed. “Well, the men already have a head start on us, but let’s join them.”
They found the men in Harry’s study, already imbibing, but they welcomed the ladies with a quick bow.
“Do come in,” Harry said with a smile. “Do you both want some sherry?”
“Brandy,” Louisa answered for them both.
“I thought whisky was your drink, Miss Drake,” Mr. Kingsley said with a lift of his glass in salute.
Emma stared over at the man, who looked entirely at home in the study of a duke. His cravat was unbound, and the first two buttons of his shirt open, causing a riot of sensations in her belly. “I assumed the brandy in your establishment would not be as good as this,” she replied with a lift of the glass Harry gave her.
“Simon’s brandy is far better than even this,” Harry said, returning to his seat. Louisa sat next to him on the sofa, leaving Emma to sit far closer to Kingsley than desired. “And his whisky is exceptional.”
“I do believe Miss Drake is already away of the quality of whisky I serve,” Simon added with a feral smile.
“Let’s not remind her of that evening,” Louisa said, raising the snifter to her lips.
Emma took a small sip and quickly swallowed, wondering why they liked brandy so much. A nice glass of wine would be more to her taste.
“Do you like it, Miss Drake?”
She glanced over at Kingsley, who sent her a knowing grin. He would recognize the fact that the brandy didn’t suit her. “It is excellent.”
He rose and walked to the decanters in the corner. Emma couldn’t help but slide a glance at his back and admire the breadth of his shoulders and slim hips. Drat! She was not supposed to find the man desirable. It was the artist in her, she decided. He had a pleasant form and nothing else.
He returned with a glass of whisky that he handed her. “I believe you might find this to your preference. But I would suggest one glass, not four.”
She took the glass and sniffed before sipping slowly. “Thank you.”
Louisa giggled as she tended to when drinking. “If you did not enjoy the brandy, you only had to say so. It’s just us here. No need to pretend you like something if you don’t.”
Emma nodded. Her breath had caught in her throat when he brought her the whisky. Why would he go out of his way to bring her a drink? And why couldn’t she get the heady scent of him out of her mind?
“What should we door after supper?” Louisa asked.
“There’s always billiards,” Kingsley replied. “I believe Miss Drake owes me a rematch after leaving in the middle of our game at your house.”
