“Agreed—as long as you’ll be guided by me. I mean it, Emma,” he said with emphasis. “No more harrying about on your own.”
She nodded happily. “We have a bargain—”
The sudden wrenching open of the carriage door cut her off. The sun hit Alaric’s face, its blaze nothing compared to the fury in the newcomer’s gaze.
Emma’s brother leaned in, his expression livid.
“What the devil is going on here?” Kent demanded.
Chapter Eighteen
All in all, Emma thought that Alaric was handling his first meeting with her family rather well. After the inauspicious start with Ambrose, he and she were greeted by her sisters as soon as they stepped foot inside the house. Emma hastily made the introductions.
After her curtsy, Violet studied him with frank curiosity. “So you’re a duke? I’ve never met one before.”
“Manners, Vi,” Thea said in an undertone.
But Alaric only looked... amused. “I must confess my own curiosity—having never met so manyKentsbefore. Beauty and grace must be family traits.”
The girls looked at each other... and giggled as haplessly as debutantes. Emma, who’d never witnessed his gallantry in action, watched in bemusement as he continued to work his charm.
“Thank you for the compliment, your grace,” Rosie said, dimpling.
“It is only the truth.” He smiled at the vivacious girl, then he turned to Polly, who’d been standing bashfully off to the side. Over the latter’s hand, he courteously bowed. “I don’t envy Kent. He’ll have to chase off suitors when you young ladies have your come outs,” he said.
Polly turned pink with pleasure, and Emma’s chest warmed at Alaric’s unexpected sensitivity, at the sight of him teasing and at ease with her sisters.
Ambrose’s stern tones broke up the banter. “Go attend to your lessons, girls. His grace and I have business to attend to.”
After the girls scampered off, Ambrose led the way to the drawing room. Tension set in as they all took up their positions: Emma and Alaric on the settee and Marianne on the chaise longue, Ambrose pacing behind her like a caged tiger. He growled questions one after the other.
Alaric, with a booted foot resting upon one knee, was the picture of ducal assurance as he responded. He seemed to have an answer for everything, maneuvering through her brother’s queries like a seasoned hackney driver through London’s streets. He glossed over certain details—their lovemaking at Madame Marieur’s, for instance—without telling any lies.
Finally, Ambrose turned to her. “What were you thinking, Emma, interviewing his grace’s staff?” he said in bewildered tones. “Going off on your own to this disreputable place?”
“I thought I could help,” she said in a small voice. “The maids talked to me. And I discovered Lily’s true identity—”
“At what risk? Anything could have happened. You could have been hurt, accosted, or worse.”
“I assure you, Kent, she was perfectly safe,” Alaric said. “I put a guard on her.”
Shock jolted Emma. She’d assumed that his staff at the cottage had told him about Marieur’s. Instead, he’d had herfollowed?
Looking as stunned as she felt, Ambrose said, “You didwhat?”
“The better question is why didn’t you? She’s your sister. You ought to know how determined she is when she sets her mind upon a thing,” Alaric said calmly.
His high-handedness was astounding. And he didn’t look the least bit apologetic.
She glared at him. “You can’t have someone following me—”
“Actually, I can and I did. I told you, pet: I protect what is important to me.”
The silver flame in his jade eyes hitched her breath. How could she have ever thought him cold? Beneath that icy authority raged volcanic heat—and it disturbed her to realize that shelikedthis side of him. Liked that she could stir his emotions... the way he did hers.
“About that, your grace.” Marianne gave a flick to her jonquil skirts, which were as smooth as her expression. “You understand why we must ask your intentions toward Emma.”
“Why was my sister sitting on your bloody lap in the carriage?” Ambrose thundered.
