She smiled at him, but her eyes clouded with sadness. Her own husband had been young and handsome, he knew—a man still very much in his prime. Theirs had been the match of the season thirteen years ago. His sudden death had been a shock to all who knew him. He’d simply grabbed his forehead, wincing in pain, and then he was gone.
“And if not the young ladies,” she went on, “then their match-making mamas or alliance-seeking papas. You’ll need to stay sharp to avoid their snares.”
Max shuddered. All the more reason he hoped to be headed home once the new heir of Albemarle made his appearance.
“Speaking of,” Kate said after polishing off the last bite of pastry on her plate. “The Earl of Montgomery sent round a note. He plans to call this afternoon and wishes for you to make yourself available to him.”
Max didn’t groan, but he wanted to.
The Earl of Montgomery had been the late duke’s mentor in Parliament, and should Kate’s baby be a boy, was set to oversee the estates until the new duke was of age to run them on his own.
Montgomery had also tasked himself with familiarizing Max with all of the responsibilities of the dukedom, should the child be a girl instead. He could not be put off.
Then the way Kate had announced Montgomery’s visit gave him pause. They’d been speaking of alliance-seeking papas… “Speaking of?”
Kate nodded. “Oh yes, Lord Montgomery has long wished for a ducal alliance. Had his daughters not been too young when Samuel and I married, I daresay Lord Montgomery would have physically shoved me into the Serpentine to secure the duke for one of them.”
Max thought about what the young lady in the park had said under her breath. Because I’ve been ordered to land a duke.
Could the woman he’d met be…? No, not likely. He’d met the earl several times these past weeks and he couldn’t imagine that such an exotic beauty had been sired by such a plain-looking Englishman.
It was more likely that several young ladies—and their parents—had the potential new duke in their matrimonial crosshairs already, sight unseen. Max swallowed. As if he didn’t have enough reasons not to want the dukedom, the idea of being ruthlessly pursued for a title and not because of who he was as a person…
It seemed like he would have to be more careful. He already kept to himself, didn’t go out in society, and wore only his own wardrobe—that of a poor-ish country barrister—even though both Kate and Montgomery had tried to press him into visiting the tailor first thing. He’d laughed them off, saying he didn’t wish to spend any of his new nephew’s inheritance, but the truth of it was, he just didn’t want to put on any trappings of the dukedom—lest it trap him.
Unreasonable, yes. Superstitious even. But there it was.
“I believe the eldest daughter is recently engaged, but I imagine Lord Montgomery is practically giddy that his youngest might have a chance at you,” Kate finished.
Max shook his head firmly. “Not if I can help it.”
The face of the woman from the park this morning flashed through his mind. Maybe if it were she… No, not even then. She was already after a duke. He could never trust that her feelings were real if they were to meet as who they truly were.
Besides, apparently the real danger was that he’d be inveigled into a meeting with Montgomery’s daughter, and soon. If he were a father, he’d make sure his own chit got her introductions before the rest of the pack even sniffed the potential duke out.
He’d have to do everything he could to avoid the Earl of Montgomery’s daughter, whoever she was.
CHAPTER 3
“DUKE! DUKE, COME BACK HERE!”
The little spaniel ignored Emmaline as he bounded off around the turn in the footpath, barking excitedly at something or other that had caught his attention.
“Want me to go after him this time, miss?” Molly asked, but her pained expression made it clear that she was hoping Emmaline would decline.
“No,” Emmaline sighed. “I daresay we’ll catch up to him eventually.”
The pup had the vigor of three of her father’s hounds. He tore around the house like a whirling dervish, constantly under someone’s feet. Just this morning, one of her mother’s favorite Limoges vases had been a casualty of Duke’s boundless energy. The countess had been only too happy to send Emmaline and the puppy—properly chaperoned by her maid, of course—off to get his exercise somewhere else. Anywhere else.
So she’d chosen to return to Hyde Park.
And if she’d selected a footpath along the southern end of the park rather than staying to the eastern edge nearer her home in Mayfair, so what? It most certainly wasn’t because that was the direction the man from yesterday had departed toward, and she hoped she might see him again.
No, it wasn’t. Not at all.
Up ahead, Duke’s barks ceased abruptly. Too abruptly.
“Oh,” Emmaline exhaled an indulgent, if exasperated, breath. “What has that little rascal gotten into now? I swear, he’d best not have let those geese chase him into the lake again or we very well may leave him there.”
Still, she picked up her skirts and hurried her steps, just in case he needed rescuing.
She huffed a laugh as she ran. When her father had ordered her to catch a duke, she was quite certain this wasn’t what he’d had in mind.
As she came around the bend, her feet stilled and her heart leapt into her throat, where it fluttered wildly.
For there was Duke, happily content in the arms of her handsome stranger.
The dog’s long tail swished with enthusiasm as he heaped puppy love upon his obviously remembered savior.
Emmaline’s heart seemed to beat in the same eager rhythm upon seeing the man again—which was ridiculous, she knew. Nothing could come of their acquaintance. They weren’t even acquainted, for that matter.
And yet…she couldn’t explain the feeling that bubbled inside her chest, rising with the effervescent sting of good champagne. She only knew she liked it. It made her feel alive.
The man looked up at her then, and a smile broke over his face.
“I thought this fellow looked familiar,” he said, “though I hardly recognized him not soaking wet and covered in mud.” He ruffled Duke’s fur affectionately. “You clean up nicely, young master Duke.”
As do you, Emmaline thought—but thankfully she did not say the words aloud this time. Her cheeks pinked as she remembered her faux pas of yesterday.
Because I’ve been ordered to land a duke.
How shallow she must have sounded, how petulant. She could only blame the upset that had driven her to the park and the excitement of Duke’s rescue for her thoughtlessness.
She could hardly expect anyone who lived outside her gilded cage to understand.
After all, who wouldn’t want to marry a duke?
Emmaline smiled at the man who so patiently accepted her puppy’s slobbery adoration. Her heart melted just a little, then twinged with regret. Why couldn’t she be free to fall in love with someone like him—a man who would never become a duke, but whose heart was noble and kind? Why couldn’t that be all that mattered?
“He does, rather,” she said, admiring Duke’s silky white-and-chestnut coat, his long fluffy ears, and his undocked tail. The pup’s eyes closed in seeming bliss as he leaned into the man’s long-fingered strokes. The gentleman’s hands held her mesmerized for a moment, wondering what it might feel like if she were the one being touched thus—
She shook herself from her impure thought. What had they been discussing? Oh yes, Duke. Cleaning up nicely.
“After no less than three baths,” she said, her nose scrunching at the remembered smell, “and a very thorough brushing.”