Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride (Scandalous Seasons #1)(24)

What did she think? She actually had very little thought reserved for Lord Whitmore. She was still trying to grapple with the warring personalities Drake presented to her. One moment he was the aloof, indifferent bounder, the next he was a champion charging over on his white steed, defending her from miscreants.

“My lady?” Drake pressed.

Emmaline returned her attention to the matter at hand. She studied the little toad quivering before them. She almost felt bad for him. Until she recalled the old peddler woman and Whitmore’s poor battered horse. “No, I think Lady Whitmore would definitely want to know about her son’s proclivity for rudeness.”

Drake turned to the cowering dandy. “How about a round in the ring, tomorrow, as well, Whitmore?”

Words eluded Whitmore who continued to rapidly shake his head back and forth in a way that nearly made Emmaline ill.

Her gaze locked with Drake’s and it appeared there was something more he wished to say, but the presence of Sophie and Whitmore prevented it. “My apologies, my lady,” he said. “I have a meeting with this pup’s mother, isn’t that right, Whitmore?”

Emmaline watched him go with his pup in tow, knowing there were many layers to that apology.

“Indifferent, Em.” Sophie snorted. “I think not.”





Chapter 12

My Dearest Lord Drake, I begged Sebastian to allow me to accompany him to London Hospital. The visit was nothing short of remarkable.

Ever Yours,

Emmaline

Sebastian pulled his engraved golden watch-bob from the front pocket of his maroon jacket and proceeded to check the time. “I am going to visit London Hospital. Are you—?"

Emmaline set aside the book she’d been reading and clambered up from the window-seat that overlooked the gardens below. “I’m coming! Give me a moment.”

Sebastian had been a board member at London Hospital since their father had died. Three years ago, when Sebastian had been planning his first visit to the hospital, a teary-eyed Emmaline had begged to go along with him.

Her brother had insisted London Hospital was no place for a seventeen-year old genteel young lady but Sebastian had eventually been worn down. Ultimately, the older brother of a young grieving sister had been wont to deny her anything.

When Sebastian attended London Hospital’s monthly board meetings, Emmaline accompanied him and visited with the soldiers who’d fought Boney’s forces. In addition, she spent one day each week reading to the soldiers.

“I have a meeting with the Board. I told you to be ready by—"

“Just a moment!” Emmaline grabbed her stack of books, and handed her burden over to him. “Here.” She looped her arm through his and they made their way to the foyer.

A servant assisted Emmaline into her burnt orange taffeta cloak. She smiled. “Did Cook have that basket readied?”

She’d not even finished her question when a maid rushed forward with the basket outstretched. “Here it is, my lady.”

Emmaline followed Sebastian to the carriage.

After he placed the basket on the opposite seat, he sprawled into the red velvet squabs of the carriage bench.

Emmaline nudged him in the side. “Slide over. You are crowding me.”

“I’m insulted, Em. This carriage is enormous and…”

She rapped his fingers. “Just move over.”

“You’d never know I was a duke,” he muttered and moved over to the other bench.

Emmaline’s lips twitched.

Sebastian reached over and snagged the stack of books she’d brought with her. He shuffled through the pile and then set them aside. “Byron? Coleridge? Blake?” He arched a brow. “Are you certain this is what the men prefer to hear?” He dropped the books down on the opposite seat with a condescending thump.

Emmaline bristled. “Who wouldn’t want to read Byron, Coleridge, or Blake?”

Sebastian gave his head a shake as if to say, I’m more than certain I’m-right and you’re wrong. He at least had sense enough not to say as much, aloud.

Instead, he flipped open the lid of the basket. “What do we have?”

Emmaline leaned over and slammed the top down on his fingers. “We have nothing.”

“Ouch.” He popped the smarting digits into his mouth.

“Really, Sebastian,” she chided, and slapped his other hand for good measure. “You can avail yourself to Cook’s pastries any time you want. These are for the soldiers.”

“I wasn’t going to eat anything.”

“Liar.” Emmaline ignored his response and turned her attention out the windowpane as the London scenery passed by.

“So, Em, what’s the story with Drake?”

Her eyes snapped back toward Sebastian and she felt a warm flush climb her neck and heat her cheeks. For the better part of the month, Sebastian had made it clear he did not approve of her efforts to secure Drake’s affections.

“What do you mean?”

Hazel-brown eyes narrowed. “You asked me if I trusted you. I responded yes. I am, however, the Duke of Mallen and your guardian. I need to ensure your protection.”

“What rubbish.” She puffed out her chest and threw her chin back in her best impression of a duke. “I’m the very powerful Duke of Mallen and want to know just what my little sister is up to.”