Read Online The Wicked Wallflower by Maya Rodale - Free Book Online Page A

remembered how she’d stood so tall, her spine so straight.
    Though she still carried herself proudly, she no longer stood on her own. A footman held her arm, lightly, as if merely decoration. But Blake suspected that if the man let go, his beloved Aunt Agatha would topple over and shatter on the paving stones.
    His heart clenched. Stupid heart.
    Emma sighed as the footman approached. He was young, golden, brawny, and would be called handsome by any chit with a pulse. Blake took immense comfort in Agatha’s choice of companion. The old broad had life in her yet. If nothing else, she obviously wasn’t blind.
    â€œThe Duke of Ashbrooke deigns to grace us with his presence. I am beside myself with glee,” Agatha said dryly, by way of greeting.
    Blake exhaled with relief. Agatha was still Agatha. He had not been too late. But it had been too long.
    â€œI fancied some extra spending money so I thought I’d drop by,” he said. Beside him, Emma sucked in her breath sharply. She didn’t know what he had just said meant Hello, and I have missed you , and a million other things that could never be put into words.
    â€œAs impertinent as ever. How predictable. How dull,” Agatha replied. Then she rolled her eyes, which he knew meant that all was well in the world.
    â€œMy sincerest apologies,” Blake said. Then he swept into a deep bow, and upon rising declared, “I forget we are all here for the amusement of a crotchety old dowager.”
    â€œYou’ll do well to remember it, Duke, lest I recall that you were not actually invited this year,” she stated loudly. “Make a note of that, Angus.”
    The handsome footman did just that in the small red leather volume he kept close to his chest. One kept score in the Fortune Games, with Agatha awarding points for small triumphs and removing them at the slightest misstep. But in the end, she picked the winner based upon some formula that even he had never discerned.
    The other guests had started to hum and whisper as they began to count their numbers. Emma smiled tightly in a You’ll pay for this, mister way, so Blake treated her to one of his legendary smiles and kissed her hand.
    â€œAn oversight in your old age, and I forgive you for it,” Blake said smoothly. “However, I thought you’d be vexed if I didn’t introduce you to my betrothed. Dearest Aunt Agatha, please do meet my fiancée, Lady Emma Avery.”
    George started coughing. Blake hoped someone would smack him on the back, hard.
    â€œI’m pleased to meet you, Lady Grey,” Emma said.
    â€œAre you really?” Agatha asked skeptically.
    â€œI am also terrified and intrigued,” Emma confessed.
    â€œI suppose he warned you about the games,” Agatha said, sounding totally bored. “Tell me, are you terrified or intrigued by those?”
    â€œIt can’t be any more torturous than a wallflower’s fourth season on the marriage mart,” Emma replied without skipping a beat. Blake’s heartbeat quickened. This had never happened—­a woman who wasn’t completely rendered spineless and spiritless in the presence of Aunt Agatha.
    â€œBut you are no longer on the marriage mart. You, a wallflower on your fourth season, have managed to snare this prime specimen of manhood,” Agatha said with a dismissive wave of her old hand toward the prime specimen that was his person.
    â€œPhysically speaking,” Emma conceded, with a glance that felt like a caress. Then she dropped her voice. “His wits, on the other hand . . .”
    Agatha leaned in close, conspiratorially, and said: “Makes one wonder if he was dropped as a child.”
    Blake felt Emma lean in farther to whisper to Agatha, but he pulled her back to immediately put an end to a relationship that could only rain down terror upon him.
    â€œWhile I am just delighted you two are getting along like a village on fire, perhaps Lady