Read Online Something About Emmaline by Elizabeth Boyle - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Boyle
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tongue. For whatever reason.
He glanced around the foyer and lowered his voice. “Piquet. A few of us play piquet every Thursday night.”
“Piquet?” Oh, she was in luck. Or rather they were.
Don’t do this, Emmaline, an overly cautious voice urged her. You’re in over your head as it is. Don’t go butting into business that is none of yours. What has meddling ever done for you?
Never mind that she’d recently sworn off meddling. Right along with cards…and men…and…
Thomas, obviously emboldened by Simmons’s confession, spoke up. “There’s a new footman over at the duchess’s across the square. A regular Captain Sharp, he is, if you’ll excuse me, ma’am, for saying so.”
Emmaline nodded solemnly. “How patently unfair.”
Simmons shot Thomas a hot glance to silence the man, then he continued the story in a more dignified manner. “We believe the duchess’s butler hired this fellow while the family was away, if only to get back what they lost this past winter.”
“And you say the duchess’s servants aren’t very good at playing cards?” Emmaline asked, trying to ignore the familiar pounding in her heart.
As much as she knew she should walk away from the servants’ problems, perhaps this was a time to make an exception to her rule. Perhaps, it might even be a way to gain her stake if her gammon with Sedgwick failed.
“The duke’s staff are right awful, ma’am,” Thomas told her. “Always good for a few extra quid, they are. That is until this new footman arrived. Now we’ll have to call off our regular night.”
Emmaline came down off the steps and smiled. “Don’t cancel just yet,” she told them. “I think you might have found a sharp of your own.”
If Emmaline thought Sedgwick indifferent to their kiss, she didn’t know her husband.
He’d walked away from her in a painful state of awareness as to her charms.
She’s not my wife, she’s not my wife, he repeated with each step up the staircase, even as the thrumming of his blood threatened to snap the taut thread of control he could still claim.
While every bit of common sense he possessed clamored at him not to go anywhere near this imposter, when she’d caught hold of him, pulled him close and offered those rosebud lips of hers to him, he’d had only one thought.
Kiss her. Kiss her quickly and deeply and thoroughly—for he might not have another chance of it before his sensibilities gained the upper hand and managed to toss her out into the streets where she belonged.
No, this Emmaline was nothing but folly. Pure folly, he thought, recalling her kiss.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed a woman and found himself so undone. So willing to forget that she wasn’t his wife.
And if she were to walk through the door right thisminute, he wouldn’t trust himself not to take her in his arms and finish what his hard and thrumming body cried out for. The passion and pleasure her kiss promised.
Just then there was a knock on the door, and he stopped his reckless pacing and turned toward it. He tried to speak, but found his throat dry.
Gads, this was his house. He was still the master of it. He wasn’t going to be ruled by anything less than common sense. And that meant he could face this pretty imposter and her all-too-kissable lips.
“Come in,” he ground out.
To his utter disappointment, as much as he was loath to admit it, it was only Simmons and a line of footmen, all carrying buckets of steaming hot water.
“Her ladyship thought you might like a bath before your respite,” the butler said, leading the parade of servants into the bathing chamber beyond. One of the maids followed, carrying a tray with his forgotten breakfast.
First her kiss, now this offering. And when he’d stripped himself of his clothes and sunk into his hot bath, a comforting cup of hot tea and buttered toast nearby, he realized this Emmaline was more devilish than he’d first thought.
By the time Alex arose,
He glanced around the foyer and lowered his voice. “Piquet. A few of us play piquet every Thursday night.”
“Piquet?” Oh, she was in luck. Or rather they were.
Don’t do this, Emmaline, an overly cautious voice urged her. You’re in over your head as it is. Don’t go butting into business that is none of yours. What has meddling ever done for you?
Never mind that she’d recently sworn off meddling. Right along with cards…and men…and…
Thomas, obviously emboldened by Simmons’s confession, spoke up. “There’s a new footman over at the duchess’s across the square. A regular Captain Sharp, he is, if you’ll excuse me, ma’am, for saying so.”
Emmaline nodded solemnly. “How patently unfair.”
Simmons shot Thomas a hot glance to silence the man, then he continued the story in a more dignified manner. “We believe the duchess’s butler hired this fellow while the family was away, if only to get back what they lost this past winter.”
“And you say the duchess’s servants aren’t very good at playing cards?” Emmaline asked, trying to ignore the familiar pounding in her heart.
As much as she knew she should walk away from the servants’ problems, perhaps this was a time to make an exception to her rule. Perhaps, it might even be a way to gain her stake if her gammon with Sedgwick failed.
“The duke’s staff are right awful, ma’am,” Thomas told her. “Always good for a few extra quid, they are. That is until this new footman arrived. Now we’ll have to call off our regular night.”
Emmaline came down off the steps and smiled. “Don’t cancel just yet,” she told them. “I think you might have found a sharp of your own.”
If Emmaline thought Sedgwick indifferent to their kiss, she didn’t know her husband.
He’d walked away from her in a painful state of awareness as to her charms.
She’s not my wife, she’s not my wife, he repeated with each step up the staircase, even as the thrumming of his blood threatened to snap the taut thread of control he could still claim.
While every bit of common sense he possessed clamored at him not to go anywhere near this imposter, when she’d caught hold of him, pulled him close and offered those rosebud lips of hers to him, he’d had only one thought.
Kiss her. Kiss her quickly and deeply and thoroughly—for he might not have another chance of it before his sensibilities gained the upper hand and managed to toss her out into the streets where she belonged.
No, this Emmaline was nothing but folly. Pure folly, he thought, recalling her kiss.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed a woman and found himself so undone. So willing to forget that she wasn’t his wife.
And if she were to walk through the door right thisminute, he wouldn’t trust himself not to take her in his arms and finish what his hard and thrumming body cried out for. The passion and pleasure her kiss promised.
Just then there was a knock on the door, and he stopped his reckless pacing and turned toward it. He tried to speak, but found his throat dry.
Gads, this was his house. He was still the master of it. He wasn’t going to be ruled by anything less than common sense. And that meant he could face this pretty imposter and her all-too-kissable lips.
“Come in,” he ground out.
To his utter disappointment, as much as he was loath to admit it, it was only Simmons and a line of footmen, all carrying buckets of steaming hot water.
“Her ladyship thought you might like a bath before your respite,” the butler said, leading the parade of servants into the bathing chamber beyond. One of the maids followed, carrying a tray with his forgotten breakfast.
First her kiss, now this offering. And when he’d stripped himself of his clothes and sunk into his hot bath, a comforting cup of hot tea and buttered toast nearby, he realized this Emmaline was more devilish than he’d first thought.
By the time Alex arose,
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