The Devilish Pleasures of a Duke by Jillian Hunter

Author:Jillian Hunter [Hunter, Jillian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780345500090
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2007-07-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Emma arose for the following three mornings at her customary time, if not in her typical good temper. As a rule she frowned upon indulging in any extreme of mood. To be at the mercy of one’s emotions was a weakness of character. Such distemperaments should be subdued in private.

That her father, the fourth Marquess of Sedgecroft, and her older brother, Drake, had suffered from this dark affliction of disposition did not persuade her that her struggle against one’s personal demons were in vain.

One must battle the subtle devils of self-doubt and discouragement almost daily. This had been the advice her practical-minded mother had bestowed upon her unruly brood. Of the Boscastle siblings, however, only Grayson, Emma, and Devon seemed to have inherited their mother’s ability to rise above their father’s private struggles with personal darkness.

Emma, of course, understood the reason for her own present disquietude. Whereas she should have felt relieved, it was a pea in her shoe that Lord Wolverton had not attempted to contact her again since their last encounter in the library.

She knew it was for the best.

She knew she had made him promise to keep their indiscretion to himself. And so far he had. In fact, the papers had made only a fleeting mention of the embarrassing incident at the wedding. Apparently even Lady Clipstone had not stirred up the scandal pot. All was well that ended without commotion.

It even began to seem possible to Emma that she would be able to put the week behind her and return her full attention to the academy where it belonged.

And where it was so desperately needed.

Indeed, as she entered the ballroom after breakfast she found her entire class gathered suspiciously around one bright-haired girl. And in that girl’s hand was a sketch.

Emma swallowed and prayed for personal fortitude as she strode forth to wage an entirely different kind of battle. “Give it to me.”

“It’s our lesson from Lady Dalrymple,” one of the girls exclaimed.

“Harriet Gardner, hand me that drawing now, or I shall—heaven forgive me, I shall—”

Harriet looked up with more astonishment than fright. “I thought a lady couldn’t raise neither her voice nor her fists.”

“I might be persuaded to make an exception,” Emma said. “Give it to me now.”

Harriet did, watching Emma’s face for her reaction as she glanced down at the rough but skilled sketch Hermia had made of Adrian in the garden the day of his departure.

Her initial thought as she studied the charcoal figure was of a profound, knee-trembling relief that he had not been rendered au naturel, except for one bare arm and shoulder, which Hermia’s artistic imagination had captured in all its muscular glory.

To her embarrassment, Emma felt her eyes misting with tears as she beheld Adrian’s imperfect angular profile. Lady Dalrymple had caught the beauty of his face, his stark bone structure. Truly he did resemble a young hero, although Emma thought wistfully that Hermia’s depiction had not succeeded in capturing Adrian’s more endearing traits.

She sighed. She would like to keep this sketch even if she would have nothing more to do with him.

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