16. Chapter 16
Emma, to her surprise, enjoyed dinner. Her nerves from earlier had been swept aside by Andrew’s soft declaration he had missed her this week.
He looked every inch the Duke of Gilchrest as he sat at the head of the table, dressed in his black-and-white formal attire.
His hair was slicked back from his face, and not one hair dared to be out of place.
Caroline sat to his right, and Emma sat to his left, with Lucy and Lord Davenport next to them.
The duchess held court at the other end of the table with Vivian and Jack flanking her.
The other guests appeared to be mixed in with no account to rank, but instead by who would get along with whom.
It made for lively conversation and a relaxed atmosphere.
Lord Davenport was exceedingly charming.
Between his and Caroline’s many stories, they all laughed often during dinner.
Even Lucy, who normally wore her debutante persona like a shield at these events, seemed to relax.
Lucy was a practical and organized soul, but like Emma, she had a wicked sense of humor.
Lord Davenport made her sister laugh, and Emma approved.
She bit her lip, worried that a man like him would never offer for her sister.
Lucy had no dowry. Beauty and grace could only go so far with most men.
Perhaps she should speak to the duchess about her concerns and see what advice the lady could offer.
Strong fingers clasped hers under the table and gave a squeeze.
She glanced up to find Andrew looking at her with concern.
“Something amiss?” he asked quietly.
“No, everything is fine.” She pasted a smile on her face. How did he decipher her mood so easily? Damn his perceptiveness.
When dinner ended, everyone made their way into the music room, where several of the young ladies took turns singing and playing the pianoforte.
As Emma sipped a glass of sherry, she spied two small dark heads poking through the door across the room.
She glanced around, but everyone else’s attention was focused on the lady singing.
She stood and made her way surreptitiously over to the door.
The two heads disappeared. Emma opened the door and slipped out into the hallway.
Grayson and Tyler stood to the left of the door in their nightclothes, and both looked as though they were waiting to be hanged at the gallows for their crimes.
Emma smiled at the two little boys. “What are you two doing out of bed?” she asked.
“We just wanted to see what was happening, I suppose.” Grayson spoke for the two of them. “Will you tell on us?”
“No, I promise I won’t, but you two should probably go back up to bed.” A small hand slipped into hers. She looked down at Tyler’s sweet, upturned face.
“I have been practicing making paper boats. Would you like to see them?”
“Oh, well…” She glanced back at the door. No one would notice her absence. “Perhaps just for a moment.”
“Yes, come see them! Then you can make sure we went back to bed.” Grayson took her other hand, and the two boys led her away.
Andrew watched Emma slip out of the music room. A perfect opportunity to catch a moment alone with her. He slowly made his way around the outskirts of the room and out the same door. Turning, he spotted a footman twenty feet down the hall, standing at attention.
“Bertram, did you see a young lady in pink come out this way a few minutes ago? Which way did she head?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Masters Grayson and Tyler took her upstairs to the nursery, I believe.”
“The boys? What were they doing down here?”
“Peepin’ in on the party, sir. I just turned a blind eye, my lord. They weren’t causing any trouble.” Bertram’s face turned red as he tugged at his collar.
“It’s all right, Bertram. I’ll go up and see they are back in bed. Thank you.”
Andrew headed upstairs to the nursery. As he approached the doorway to the room, he paused as the conversation inside drifted out.
“You’ve almost got it right. You see here, this flap should be folded over that way, which helps to make it float straight.” Emma sat on the rug with his sons, examining several paper boats. “Now this one is just right. Good job!”
“When can we go sailing our boats again with Will and Max?” Grayson asked.
“I am not sure. Perhaps you should ask your father.”
“Miss Emma, will you read us a story? We promise to get back into bed if you read us a story.” Tyler slid his hand into Emma’s.
Andrew’s heart squeezed tight in his chest as he watched them. Taking a step forward, he leaned against the doorjamb. “Is the party so boring downstairs that you needed to escape?”
All three heads swung around. His boys scrambled up to run over and give him a hug. Emma smiled up at him from her spot on the floor, her silk skirts spread around her. “The boys had some very important business to show me. It needed my immediate attention.”
“Well, boys, I think you have monopolized enough of Miss Whittingham’s time for this evening. I believe it is far past your bedtime. Where is Ms. Fischer?”
“Downstairs, having some tea with Mrs. Blume. Don’t get us in trouble with her, Father. We’ll go straight to bed now,” Grayson replied.
“Will you tuck us in?” Tyler gazed up at him.
Andrew reached down and gathered his son into his arms. “Of course.” He carried Tyler over to his bed on the other side of the room.
He kissed each boy goodnight before returning to Emma, who still sat on the rug in front of the fire.
He offered his hands to help her off the floor.
And he didn’t let go of hers as he led her out of the room and shut the door behind them.
“I’m sorry to keep them up, but I saw them peeping into the music room, and then they dragged me upstairs…”
Andrew cut her off with a kiss. For a moment, she stood stock-still, but he moved his lips gently across hers, waiting for her to respond.
Kiss me back, Emma. Remember how perfectly we fit together.
Then she sighed and melted against him, and he sank into the kiss.
A low growl of satisfaction rose unheeded from a deep, primal place inside him.
He wrapped an arm around her waist. Mine.
Emma’s arms slid up around his neck as she kissed him back, heating his blood.
He kissed his way across her cheek and down her neck, breathing in the heady scent of vanilla as his lips caressed her soft skin.
When he reached the rapid beat of her pulse, it fueled his hunger for her.
It had been two weeks since he last had her in his arms.
Then Emma was pushing against his shoulders. “Gilchrest, we cannot be doing this in the middle of the hallway outside your sons’ room. Andrew!”
He pulled back far enough to stare down at her face.
Her skin was flushed, her lips berry pink.
She looked absolutely delectable. He needed privacy for all the things he wished to do to her.
“You’re right. We can’t do this here.” Grabbing hold of one of her hands tightly, he led her down the stairs.
Instead of going back to the music room, he walked three doors down to his study.
Pulling her inside, he firmly shut the door, turning the key in the lock.
Then he pulled her against him and captured her mouth once more.
Her tall lithe figure fit perfectly against him.
His body hummed with desire in response to the press of her soft breasts against his chest. He maneuvered them slowly over to the couch by the fire.
Placing kisses along her delicate jaw and across her cheek, he tumbled them down onto the chaise.
Emma landed in his lap giggling as she fell against his chest.
“Andrew, what are we doing? This isn’t proper at all.
” But then she kissed him, her lips exploring his for a long moment before she pulled away enough to lay her forehead against his.
His heartbeat thundered under her palm. And it wasn’t the only body part responding to having her back in his embrace.
She sent his thoughts into disarray as she wiggled, trying to slide off his lap.
Hell no. He tightened an arm around her waist.
“Andrew, you must let me go.”
“No, I don’t think I will.” He shook his head. “I have been dreaming about holding you in my arms again ever since you disappeared from my bedroom two weeks ago.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
She froze. “Pardon?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t recognize your kisses? The feel of your body?” He ran a hand up to brazenly cup one of her breasts.
Emma pushed hard off his chest and scrambled off him, backing away, her face drained of color.
Again, the sense of déjà vu was strong. Perhaps this hadn’t been the best moment to bring up he knew she was the thief.
He sat up. Nevertheless, now they could have a real discussion about her future, about their future.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” She continued to back away.
Andrew stood and approached her slowly. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t tell anyone. Emma, you can trust me.”
She backed herself right up against his desk, the wooden edge hitting her in the backside.
“W-when did you know?” she stammered. “H-how did you know?”
Andrew came up close, putting his hands on the desk, one on each side of her, trapping her neatly. “I recognized your laugh.”
Her eyes went wide, darting left, then to the right, as if looking for an escape route. It tore at him that she looked so frightened. Andrew reached to cup her chin, forcing her gaze to him.
“Emma, your laugh brought me back to life. I’d convinced myself that I was doing better.
I’d stopped drinking. I was spending more time with my family.
But the truth is, I was just going through the motions each day.
Until you made me laugh.” He gently rubbed his thumb across her cheek.
“Let me take care of you. Stop this thievery. It’s too dangerous.
I can take care of you if you let me.” It surprised him how fervently he believed each word. He would do anything to keep her safe.
Emma shook her head vehemently. “No. I can take care of myself and what is mine.” Her voice hitched. “This has been a dream that I cannot have. Let me go, Andrew.”
But he could not. “This isn’t a dream. What’s between us, this is real.” He kissed her. She must feel how much he needed her. How they needed each other. His lips demanded she understand what was crystal clear to him—that he loved her, that he would do anything for her.
But she held herself stiff and unresponsive against him. When he broke the kiss, Emma turned her head away from him, unshed tears swimming in her eyes. “Let me go, Andrew.”
He dropped his arms and took a step back. He barely held himself in check as she slid from the desk. He was no beast, but he wanted to howl in frustration at her retreat.
She pushed past him as she fled toward the glass-paned door, which led out to the gardens. “I must go. Please make sure Lucy gets home safely.” She dared to meet his gaze from across the room.
“This isn’t over, Emma,” he said with quiet conviction.
“This never should have started.” She wiped an errant tear from her cheek. Turning, she opened the door and disappeared into the night.