He was determined that, this time around, his marriage would be free of scandal. He wouldn’t rush into anything. The key to contentment was to remain in control.
“She’ll make a fine duchess, Strathaven.” The dowager came to stand beside him. She adjusted her feathered turban, her ring catching the glimmer of the chandelier. “I must confess I had my doubts, but now I understand your interest in her. She is unlike any lady of my acquaintance. Her family is rather... unique as well.”
Alaric stifled a smile. Over supper, the Kents had proved to be an entertaining, lively bunch. Presently, Dorothea was playing the pianoforte in one corner, and he noticed that his friend Tremont appeared quite captivated by her performance. Violet and Polly were at a card table, the former drawing chortles from a curmudgeonly earl with her card tricks. Surrounded by eager bucks, Primrose Kent held court at the center of the room.
All in all, Alaric thought he could grow fond of Emma’s family.
“Indeed, Aunt,” he said.
“No wonder you are besotted. Don’t bother denying it,” Lady Patrice said, wagging a finger at him, “for your heart is fairly hanging on your sleeve.”
Alaric flicked a sardonic glance at the pristine black velvet arm of his jacket. “I’m sure you exaggerate, your grace.”
“I’m sure I do not. The entiretonis agog with how the mighty have fallen. You’re on the road to proving that adage true: reformed rakesdomake the best husbands.”
Heat crept up Alaric’s jaw. It was one thing for him to admit to himself that he desired Emma—quite another for thebeau mondeto snigger behind their fans about it. Especially since these were the selfsame gossips who’d labeled him a faithless rake during his last marriage.
“Is it the past that disquiets you, my boy?” The dowager’s inquisitive gaze searched his. “I do not think Miss Kent will betray or manipulate you as Laura did.”
Alaric said stiffly, “I don’t wish to discuss the past.”
“I’ve upset you, haven’t I? Forgive me. I don’t mean to say the wrong things. You must know I want only your happiness.”
At the glimmer in his aunt’s eyes, he sighed inwardly and bowed over her hand. “I know. If you’ll excuse me, I must circulate amongst my guests.”
“Don’t worry about me.” The dowager gave him a small smile. “Be happy, my boy.”
He wound his way through the drawing room, stopping to accept felicitations from various guests, including the Blackwoods, on his engagement. He finally reached his betrothed, who was chatting with their respective brothers and sisters-in-law. He slid a proprietary arm around Emma’s waist as he joined the circle.
“Enjoying yourself, pet?” he said.
She smiled up at him, and the warmth in her tea-colored gaze dispelled the unease triggered by the conversation with his aunt.Emma is nothing like Laura, he told himself.
Since their engagement, they’d managed to steal only snippets of privacy. The last such occurrence had happened after he’d escorted her to the Opera, and Mrs. Kent had obligingly allowed him to take Emma home.
Those hot, steamy minutes in the carriage rose up now, fogging his brain, making another part of his anatomy stiffen in anticipation for his wedding night. Christ, to feel her luscious sheath clench around his cock the way it had his fingers, his tongue...
Another eight weeks of this would be pure torture.
But he would bear it—because he could. Because he was in control. Almost.
“We were just talking about wedding plans,” Emma informed him, “and the importance of details.”
“I don’t think Alaric gives a damn about the flowers,” Will said knowingly.
Alaric narrowed his eyes at his brother. Just because they were getting on these days didn’t mean that Will couldn’t be a pain in the arse.
“Didyounotice the flowers at your own wedding?” Alaric said with cool irony. “As I recall, the entire affair passed in a flash. You pushed your guests out of the house before cake was even served.”
Annabel turned rosy, but Will merely grinned and draped an arm around his wife. “I had the wedding I wanted—with the lass I wanted it with.”
Alaric couldn’t fault that. In a way, he envied his brother’s freedom, unencumbered as it was by a dukedom and the accompanying expectations. Will’s wedding had been small and intimate, a dozen guests or so; Alaric’s would number close to a thousand.
“My apologies for mixing business with pleasure,” Kent spoke up, “but I thought you should know that I received a message from Lugo today.”
Despite Mercer being dead, the African investigator continued his quest to find the missing maid. Kent and Associates did not leave loose ends. Alaric respected that.
“Any new developments?” he said.
