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She drew in a sharp breath, blinking several times. How had she missed this? A surge of feminine pride coursed through her as she stared at the handsome earl. Could it be true? And how did that change all that she’d thought about herself and assumptions she’d made about her future? She’d considered her prospects dim at best. “My lord?”
He raised a brow. “If I’m going to be bested by another man, tell me it’s not going to be him of all men.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, trying not to allow him to read her face this time though she suspected her emotions were written all over her features. Somersworth knew she fancied Smith but what did he know about Lord Smith’s past?
“He isn’t what you think,” Somersworth said pulling her a touch closer. “Don’t allow him to fool you, Emily. You’re much too…good…to be taken in by a man like that.”
She frowned. Did Somersworth know Lord Smith’s secret too? Did she tell Somersworth that Lord Smith had already rejected her? “I doubt very much I am too good for him, my lord.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
She looked at him, cocking her chin to the side to study him. The façade she’d been able to maintain slipped away again as she asked a question far more like her usual self. “And am I too good for you as well? Is that why you’ve never pursued me?”
He spun her about the floor, his grip at her waist firm. “It is.” He didn’t seem to be jesting. In fact, he sounded deadly serious, which honestly surprised her. When had she, Emily Boxby, managed to procure multiple men’s interests? The idea was heady and wonderful. “Lord Somersworth?”
His grip tightened. “But know this, if it’s between me and him, I’ll be damned if I let him just steal you away. Whatever my flaws, they are a fair sight better than what he offers.”
Emily gasped, so surprised that she nearly tripped on her own feet. Somersworth kept her moving with all the grace and prowess she’d expect from a man like him.
It was almost a pity he didn’t make her heart trip over itself the way Lord Smith had. Lord Somersworth would be so much less complicated…
Ace sat in a private study, glancing about at the understated opulence that surrounded him. Rich mahogany wood lined the walls while plush velvet-covered furniture filled the room.
Nor was it lost on him that these rooms would normally be closed off to guests, but the baron and duke had been provided access to the family’s private spaces with barely a whispered word.
These were the sort of resources he hoped to access by making these men his partners.
Of course, he might have asked his legitimate brother, but when Easton had discovered who Ace was…
They weren’t speaking.
In fact, Ace wouldn’t be surprised if the Earl of Easton challenged him to duel the next time he saw his bastard brother.
But he digressed.
And while his own death was a possibility, he needed to focus on what he might change before anything happened to him.
Clearing his throat, he settled into the chair across from the baron, accepting the offered cheroot.
“You wanted to see me, Lord Smith?” the baron asked, using a nearby candelabra to light his smoke.
“I did.”
“You understand that I can’t allow you to court my sister.”
A muscle in Smith’s jaw ticced as he took a moment to collect himself. He didn’t wish to court Emily. But his stomach disagreed as it gave a lurch of disappointment. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Good,” Boxby said and then drew in a deep puff. “I know the truth about you, and while I have no desire to cause trouble, I also have no intention allowing you to marry my sister.”
Well, at least his meeting wasn’t entirely ruined, in fact, it might be even easier if the baron knew the truth about him. He was here for a purpose…his family. And in that regard he still had a chance at success. He ought to be happy.
But he liked Emily far more than he should after a single meeting.
“Understood,” he answered, leaning forward in his chair. “Which leads me to my point—”
“Why were you dancing with her then?” the duke asked, his voice so deep, it rumbled out of his chest, filling the room.
Ace arched a brow, attempting to look unconcerned. “Miss Boxby is friends with my sister and I know a bit about her struggles…” He was making it sound as though he’d danced with her out of pity and he hated himself for it. She deserved so much better than that.
