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When he first took on the task of turning a veritable wallflower into a desirable woman, he had no idea just how intensely attractive she would become tohim.
He had known Lady Emily Montgomery since she was achild. Surely, if he had any latent attraction towards her, he would have seen it previously.
However, under his guidance, she had taken those lessons he taught her, and when she practiced them on him, he had no idea just how potent their effect would be.
Daniel closed his eyes and downed the brandy in one go, feeling the alcohol burn a path down his throat.
“It was a mistake, nothing more,” he muttered to himself as he poured another glass. “A damned mistake.”
Countless women, eager for a place in his bed and by his side as a duchess, had employed those same tricks on him, but none of them had the same effect as Emily—an innocent untutored in the affairs between men and women. If word got out about it, his peers would never let him hear the end of it.
That was if they would evenbelieveit, of course.
Benedict, though, would most rightfullymurderhim for touching his sister so indecently. The man was highly impetuous, in contrast to his sister’s timid cautiousness.
If the Earl of Hardy called him out on a duel, he would be well in his rights.
With a groan, he speared his hand through his dark hair, wondering how he ever came to be in such a predicament. Even in the cool darkness of his room, all he could think about was the way Emily held onto his broad shoulders as he kissed her, her softness pressed to his hardness, her soft moans urging him on…
I was not supposed to be attracted to her! I was supposed to be helping her!
Now, all he had to show for his efforts was a raging erection that would not abate, and Emily—dear, sweet, innocent Emily—had no idea just what sort of effect she wrought on him.
“Those damned eyes,” he muttered. “Had to be those damned eyes of hers!”
CHAPTER8
The day before the ball, the Viscount of Chaney left his card in the morning, and Lady Rutbridge, unable to find any more suitable excuses to hold him off, finally allowed him to pay Emily a call later that afternoon.
Emily had not seen Daniel for the days leading up to the Hadley ball, nor was she able to summon up the courage to seek his help once more after what happened in the salon. She was not even sure she could look him in the eye.
“It boggles me mind, Her Ladyship does,” Jenny muttered as she helped Emily change into a more suitable attire. “She complains that ye are drainin’ the coffers with the season, and yet, she dallies in entertainin’ the suitors when theydocome.”
Emily smiled wryly at her maid from her dressing table. She had a vague idea as to why her stepmother kept refusing the Viscount, but it was a highly uncharitable thought—Horatia simply did not want Emily to be successful.
“Even if you think that, you cannot say that out loud,” she warned Jenny. Lady Rutbridge controlled the household with an iron fist, and most of the servants dared not cross her. Only the older ones—the ones who knew the previous Marchioness of Rutbridge—dared to even have differing opinions.
Horatia even had her own husband, the Marquess himself, wrapped tightly around her finger, convinced that everything she did was for the good of everybody.
“There!” Jenny muttered with some satisfaction, standing back to survey her work.
Emily tilted her head and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. For all her shortcomings, Jenny was quite skilled in styling hair—something that Amy wanted for herself and had complained to her mother on numerous occasions.
It even came to a point when her stepmother “suggested” that Emily lend Jenny to Amy for a short while, but the two ended up at crosshairs, so it was firmly decided that Jenny would stay with the older Montgomery sister.
“’Tis a cryin’ shame we can’t do nothin’ ’bout that dress.”
That dresswas yet another unflattering green concoction garishly embellished with gaudy depictions of butterflies flitting about the skirts.
“This is the best we have,” Emily sighed. “The clothes that Benedict bought for me still have not been finished.”
A week ago, her brother had taken her out to buy new clothes, but even the talented Madame Dubois must work under time restraints. The modiste was already fielding dozens of requests from this and that young lady, and it was a miracle in itself that she was able to accommodate Emily. Emily had hoped that she would at least have something nicer to wear for the Hadley ball, but it seemed that she must resign herself to wearing yet another of those hideous garments provided by her stepmother.
She sighed in resignation and opened the door just as one of the footmen was about to knock, informing her that the Viscount of Chaney was awaiting her in the salon.
Let us hope he can see past this monstrosity of a dress and be interested enough to actually stay and talk to me, she thought ruefully to herself.I…might also apply those methods His Grace had taught me, but I had best do it with someone else in the room.
Her face flushed a becoming pink as she recalled that stormy kiss the Duke had laid on her on his last visit. That very kiss had been seared onto her mind so that she was highly unlikely to forget it.
