Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride (Scandalous Seasons #1)(5)

Drake forced himself to take a casual sip. He thought about his chance encounter with Lady Emmaline. Since he’d returned from the Peninsula three years ago, hailed in the papers as some kind of war hero, he’d gone out of his way to avoid his betrothed. He’d been tied to Lady Emmaline for more than half of his life, and yet knew next to nothing about her. As much as he wanted to find out more about the intriguing creature, he was loathe to show any outward interest, even to his friend. Oh, the fun Sin would have at his expense. “I happened to come upon Lady Emmaline this afternoon.”

Sinclair arched a dark brow. “Oh?”

Since the moment Drake had witnessed Emmaline place herself between the old peddler woman and a gentleman’s riding crop, aside from concern for her well-being, he’d been unable to think of anything but his betrothed. Before that moment, if you’d asked him if a lady of Quality would ever risk her own safety for a common woman on the street, he’d have scoffed at the ludicrousness of such a notion. Now, the image of Lady Emmaline, like some kind of warrior princess defending her keep, would be an image forever emblazoned on his mind.

Drake shifted uncomfortably. “For the last time, what do you know about the lady?”

Sin shrugged. “I don’t know much about her.”

“Not much? You know next to everything about everyone.”

“I know she’s a wallflower.”

Drake sat back in his chair, flummoxed. “Impossible.” A woman whose eyes could blaze with such life while challenging two men could never be a wallflower. Wallflowers were content to be dull creatures seated on the sidelines, escaping any notice. They were not clever young ladies with cheeky retorts.

Sinclair leaned forward in his chair. “Oh?”

Drake’s skin heated. Good God, he couldn’t be embarrassed. He tugged uncomfortably at his cravat. No, surely it was just that his cravat was too tight. “I had an encounter with Lady Emmaline a short while ago.”

When Sinclair’s brows shot up to his hairline, Drake realized his words could be mistaken for something more lascivious in nature.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped.

Like a babe looking for a story from his nursemaid, Sin propped his arms on the table and stared at Drake with impatient eyes.

Drake sighed, and then proceeded to recount the events he’d witnessed. When he concluded his story, Sin sat back heavily in his chair, with arms folded across his chest. “Humph.”

“That’s it? Just ‘humph’?”

Sinclair raised one brow. “What would you have me say? Sounds like a rather dangerous thing for the lady to do.”

Discounting the fact that Drake had the very same reaction with Lady Emmaline, he took a long swallow of whiskey. “You are missing the point, Sin.”

“Oh? And what is the point?”

Drake dragged a hand through his hair. Was the point that his betrothed had bewildered him? Or was the point that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since the moment he’d seen her challenging Whitmore and his crony?

The irony wasn’t lost on him. For the past three years, he’d forced thoughts of Lady Emmaline from his mind. He’d ignored the contract between them. If he’d returned from the Peninsula as the same man, fulfilling his duty to her would have been somewhat easier. Not palatable but an obligation he would have fulfilled, nonetheless.

“If you admire her, perhaps you should claim her.”

Drake grunted.

Sin raised his tumbler in mock salute. “I imagine marriage based on mutual admiration is a good deal more than most unions are built from.”

Drake thought about his feisty intended, her eyes sparkling with flashes of defiance and courage, her rose hued lips made for sinning, pursed tight with fury. He silently tacked desire to Sin’s components of a successful marriage.

Drake picked up his glass and drained the remaining contents. At this rate, he’d be drunk before supper. “There is no mutual admiration.”

His friend scoffed. “No? Are you really so modest to believe she couldn’t admire you?”

Drake set his tumbler down hard enough to rattle the table. “For what? I’m…”

A madman. A monster. A beast. If he were less of a coward he’d come right out and share the truth with Sinclair. Consumed by restive energy, his gaze skimmed the club. Some gentlemen laughed uproariously while others chatted with friends and acquaintances. Once upon a lifetime ago, he’d been at ease around other people, too.

Sin didn’t press his line of questioning, and for that Drake was grateful. Instead, his friend reached for the bottle of whiskey and poured himself another glass. Then, he leaned over and filled Drake’s glass. “I’m assuming it was quite a sight seeing Lady Emmaline challenge a gentleman.” He paused. “As much as one can consider Whitmore a gentleman.”

Drake smiled and toyed with the rim of his glass. “I thought I could no longer be surprised by a woman. I learned otherwise, today.”

“Sounds like marriage to the lady might not be the worst of fates.”

Drake made an impatient sound. “Marriage to me isn’t in her best interest.”

“You are the most honorable man I know,” Sin said.

There it was again. That word he loathed with every fiber of his honorable being. Emmaline had described his actions as honorable, had looked at him as some kind of hero. He managed a half grin for his friend. “That isn’t saying much about the men you know.