Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride (Scandalous Seasons #1)(70)

“I don’t know how to take the step,” he said.

Sin’s visage reflected back in the glass pane. He remained seated. “You just…do it, Drake. You tell your brain to tell your feet to move one at a time, and march up Mallen’s steps, and demand to see Emmaline. Then you read her your poem.” He picked up the poem in question and grimaced. “Well, maybe not this one, per se.”

Drake pressed his forehead against the cool window.

Could it be that simple? He glanced over his shoulder at the bouquet of cerastium and the poem still held in Sinclair’s hand.

He’d fought a bloody war…how hard could this be? In one of her notes to him, one of the notes that had never been sent, she’d called herself a coward, but it was he who was the coward.

He picked up the dreary looking flowers from his desk.

“You can’t go now,” Sinclair stuttered.

Drake paused. “Whyever not?”

Sinclair blinked several times. His eyes landed on the ormolu clock on the fireplace mantle. “It is nearly eight o’clock in the evening. Mallen is hosting an intimate dinner party with Waxham. Whyever not, indeed?”

A fiery pit of jealousy flared in Drake’s stomach. “Waxham, you say? Why, then I can’t think of a better time to pay a visit.”

“Mallen’s going to give you hell,” Sin predicted with a grin.

Drake smiled. “She’s worth it.” With that, he turned on his heel and marched out of his office. Sir Faithful gave a yap of approval.

Sin hurried after him. “Rude leaving your friend and all. Perhaps you’d like some company along the way? Just to make certain you’ve thought through everything you are going to say when you interrupt the duke’s intimate dinner party.”

Drake growled low in his throat. “Stop calling it an intimate dinner party.” Intimate was the last word he wanted to come to mind when thinking of Waxham and Emmaline.

He flung back the front door and marched down the steps. Sin trailed after him.

“Not the thing, opening your own doors, you know. Your first order of business really should have been to set up at least a butler and housekeeper. Oh, and of course a chef. Not one of those French fellows that seem all the rage—”

Drake paused mid-stride.

It took a moment before Sin, who’d been prattling on, took note. He looked over his shoulder. “Have you forgotten something? Changed your mind?”

“You do know the last thing on my mind right now is assembling a staff for my new residence? You, of course, remember I am heading out to humble myself before the lady who severed our betrothal?”

“Yes, yes,” Sin paused. “In the middle of Mallen’s intimate dinner with Waxham.”

He growled. “Stop referring to it as…”

“I know, I know, an intimate dinner party. Really, you must do your best to hide that nasty sneer when you march into Mallen’s. It will neither win you the lady nor make you a fast friend of the duke.”

“I am not looking to make friends with Mallen.”

Sin quirked a brow. “I might remind you that you require Mallen’s approval just as much as your require the lady’s approval.”

Damn, he hated it when Sin was right. Which meant Drake needed to win over both Emmaline and the foul-tempered Duke of Mallen. He didn’t know which was going to be a greater challenge. And he only had a matter of moments to settle on a course of action.

Sin cleared his throat and motioned to the townhouse in front of them. “Here we are.”

Drake stared up at the white fa?ade. “Already?”

“Already.”

Apparently, he’d run out of time to develop a proper plan of attack to win over Emmaline and Mallen.

Drake stood rooted to the pavement, and continued to stare up at the elegant white townhouse, its windows aglow with soft candlelight. He recalled marching up the very same steps as a boy filled with anxiety. He’d been terrified at the prospect of seeing his betrothed. It would appear, in fifteen years, not much had changed in that regard. Only now he feared rejection at her hands.

He glanced down at the sorely wilted bouquet in his hands, and froze. With his freed hand, he frantically felt around his jacket.

His frenzied search was met with a beleaguered sigh from Sin, who brandished a scrap of paper and waved it about. “Here it is. I’d rather hoped you’d forgotten about the poem.”

Drake took it with a word of thanks, re-reading through the terrible attempt. He grimaced. It really was quite horrendous.

“Ahem,” Sin cleared his throat. “I said, ah—”

“I heard you,” Drake bit out. He continued to stand there.

Sin tapped a finger to his chin. “I suppose you could always wait until tomorrow, say after the intimate d—”

Without a word, Drake abandoned his friend to the pavement and took the stone steps two at a time.

He’d be damned if he heard the words intimate dinner party one more time.





Chapter 32

Dearest Lord Drake,

We returned to the countryside. My brother’s friend Waxham joined us. He devoted an entire morning to helping me clear the weeds from a bed of flowers. I teased Sebastian, telling him I wish Waxham were my brother instead of him.

Ever Yours,