12. Chapter 12
Wednesday afternoon, Emma and Lucy were in the kitchen baking more biscuits with Mrs. Fenway when they heard the doorbell ring from the front of the house.
They glanced at each other in confusion.
“Were we expecting anybody?” Lucy asked.
“Oh dear, I forgot to check the salver at the front this morning.” Emma looked down at her hands covered in flour from the bread dough she was kneading, and then over at Lucy, whose apron was also dotted with flour.
“Where are the children?” Lucy asked.
Emma exchanged a look of horror with her sister as the creak of the rusty hinges on the front door signaled its opening. A small child’s voice said, “Good day, Your Grace.”
“Quickly, Mrs. Fenway, please go greet our guests and show them to the morning room. We will be right behind you once we wash up. Oh, and in a little bit, bring in some tea and some of these biscuits we made.” Emma quickly took off her apron and went to the sink to pump water to wash her hands.
At the front door, Andrew, his sister, and his mother were greeted by the sweet face of a young lady. Her wild blonde curls framed large curious eyes the same brandy color of her older sister’s. Behind her, Andrew saw the rest of the children race by in a flurry with several dogs in their midst.
“Let’s see, you must be Miss Abigail?” Andrew smiled at the girl.
She opened the door a little wider. “Yes, sir, and you are the Duke of Gilchrest. Good day, Your Grace.” She gave a little curtsy, which would have been more elegant had her left stocking not been rolled down at her ankle and the ties on her dress hanging loose.
“May we come in?” he inquired.
“Surely.” She opened the door wide and stepped back to let them into the foyer.
“Perhaps you could let your sister know we are here?” Caroline asked Abigail.
Just then, the rest of the children came barreling again through the foyer, the boys at the front, brandishing wooden swords as they yelled out, “Die, you bloody pirates!”
Andrew let out an ear-piercing whistle. “Halt!” The three of them skidded to a stop.
The Whittinghams’ housekeeper came hurrying around the corner. “Children! All of you upstairs right this minute. Pardon, my lord, ladies. We were not expecting any visitors. Please let me show you to the morning room.”
“Andrew, didn’t you send a note to say we were coming?” his mother asked him.
“Of course I did.” He glanced over at the salver on the hall table, noting the pile of unopened envelopes.
His mother followed his glance, then looked over at the children and dogs standing nearby, and finally to the servant wearing an apron splattered in flour, looking expectantly at them. “Miss Whittingham certainly has her hands full, doesn’t she?” She started forward after the housekeeper.
They were just settling into the cozy morning room when Emma and her sister came in to greet them. “It’s so good to see you, Your Graces, Lady Caroline.” Emma greeted them with a warm smile.
“I am so glad you are here.” Miss Lucy grabbed hold of Caroline’s hands. “We have received an avalanche of invitations, and we don’t know which to accept. We don’t want to insult the wrong people. It’s all rather overwhelming.”
Caroline bussed Miss Lucy’s cheek. “Let’s see what you have received, and we can help,” she assured her.
Andrew watched Emma from across the room as she directed the housekeeper, who had brought in the tea service.
She looked beautiful today. Her hair was piled loosely on top of her head, and she had a pair of amethyst earrings dangling from her ears, accentuating her lovely neck.
He had spent the last few nights lying in bed thinking—nay, lusting—after her.
But his mystery woman had not visited him again.
Andrew had become increasingly sure it must be Emma. Or maybe it was that increasingly, he wanted it to be Emma. How was a man to get any rest, remembering her warm, naked body underneath him, her kisses lighting a fire in his blood?
“Thank you, Mrs. Fenway.” Emma turned to find the duke stood not two feet away. “Your Grace.” She placed a hand over her heart. “I am sorry for the raucous greeting at the door. I hadn’t had time to check the salver this morning, and we weren’t expecting you.”
Andrew stared at her with an intensity which made her nervous.
Like at the park the other day, his gaze was filled with heat.
He looked as though he wished to devour her whole.
Or perhaps that was just her wish. Emma had managed to stay away from his house, but only barely.
The last several nights, she had lain in bed, remembering how his strong hands had felt as they explored her body, how incendiary his kisses had been, touching herself until she came with his name on her lips.
She gulped. “You always seem to arrive when we are at our craziest. I assure you, the house is not always in an uproar.” She let out a nervous laugh as he continued staring. “What? Is something amiss?”
Andrew slowly pulled off his glove. He extended one finger and ran it down her cheek. A dab of something red smeared the tip as he pulled it away. Then his tongue darted out to taste. His piercing blue gaze never left hers. “Hmm, raspberry, my favorite.”
She swallowed hard before tearing her eyes away. Warmth suffused her cheeks. The duke came to call, and there was jam on her face…brilliant. “We were baking biscuits.” She wiped at the spot. “Is it all gone?”
His gaze roamed her features, then he brushed a knuckle across her forehead, gently wiping something from her brow. “There, all gone.”
“Emma,” Lucy called out from across the room. “You must come sit with us and discuss the invitations. Do we have any more out front?”
“Perhaps. I will go check.” She crossed to the door, and when she pulled it open, found all four children playing jacks right in the middle of the hallway. She nearly tripped over Max. “What are you all doing out here? This house is big enough for you to go find trouble elsewhere.”
“But you have all the biscuits in there. We were waiting to see if there would be any leftovers,” Margie complained.
Emma put a hand up to cover her face as she took several deep breaths. “The biscuits are for our guests. I will make some more for you lot another time.”
“Excuse me,” Andrew said from her elbow. “Perhaps I could take the children outside with their dogs and teach them a few lessons in dog obedience. Would you all like that?” Andrew asked.
All of the children scrambled to their feet. “Oh, yes.”
“Well then, each of you go fetch your pup and bring him to the back garden on a leash. I will meet you there in five minutes.”
“You don’t have to entertain the children,” Emma protested.
“You could use a break. Sit and have some tea and biscuits with my mother and sister. And that lot could use some lessons in dog training, don’t you agree?”
“Well, yes, but still…”
“Then it’s settled. Plus, I don’t want to discuss the ins and outs of the social season. I just show up where I am needed. I’d much rather be outside in the fresh air.” And before she could protest further, he headed through the morning room and out the French doors to the garden beyond.
Emma stalked over to where the other ladies were seated. “Does everyone always do what he says?” she muttered.
The duchess leaned over and patted her hand. “I am afraid so, dear. That’s what Andrew excels at.”
“Telling people what to do?” She grimaced.
“No, dear, looking after those he cares about. Have some tea, Miss Whittingham.” The duchess turned back to the younger women. “No, let’s go to Lady Petworth’s dinner party. It always has a good mix of eligible gentlemen, although I don’t know how she manages to entice them all to come.”
After much deliberation, it was decided Friday evening she and Lucy would attend the opera with the duchess and her family.
Saturday evening, they would go to Lady Petworth’s dinner party.
The following week, there were three invitations to tea, as well as a musicale, and the duchess would host a dinner party they must attend.
Emma leaned back against the cushions with a sigh, already exhausted at the prospect of so much socializing. She desperately needed some air. “Perhaps I should see how His Grace is faring with the children?” Rising to her feet, she headed out to the gardens.
She hadn’t any idea what to expect as she approached the group, but it certainly wasn’t her younger siblings all standing in a row, each with their dog sitting calmly next to them. They listened attentively to the duke.
“Now tell your pup to stay in a firm voice, and don’t forget to use the hand signal that I showed you. Then walk toward me,” Andrew instructed. “Will, I said use your big voice, otherwise he won’t listen.”
When the children had all walked about ten feet from their dogs, they turned neatly and faced the still sitting dogs.
“All right, now you may call them, and then don’t forget to give them praise for being so good.
” Lord Pettigrew broke rank and bounded toward Abigail before she called him, but the pup still got praise from the little girl for sitting so long.
Andrew looked up and spotted her. She gave a little wave.
“It’s still a work in progress.” He gave her a crooked smile. Emma’s heart did a little somersault in her chest; this man’s smile was a dangerous thing.
“I am amazed you had any of them standing at attention,” she said. In a few long strides, the duke was right in front of her. His proximity was unnerving. His gaze swept down over her from head to foot. The hunger in his eyes still simmered.
“When will I see you again?” Andrew asked.
She tried to focus on what he was asking. “When?”
“Were you not just looking through all your invitations?”
“Ah, yes, of course.” Emma fumbled, trying to get her brain working, but her traitorous thoughts tumbled back to his large bed, her body wrapped around him, the feel of his kisses searing her overheated flesh.
You can’t have him. She took a deliberate step back.
“The opera, I believe. Friday evening, we are going to join your family at the opera.”
Andrew smiled and, taking her hand, brushed a kiss across her bare fingers, sending tingles down her arm. “Until Friday.”