Page 46

He nodded, reaching into the folds of his cloak. He withdrew a thin notebook and tossed it towards her. She caught it and gingerly opened the pages.

They were blank, and Emily understood at once.

“It’s a sketchbook,” she breathed.

“Indeed. I ought to have told you to bring one of your own, but I quite forgot. I did not bring you any pencils or pens or watercolors or whatever other tools you prefer to use, but I shouldn’t worry. There will be plenty where we are going.”

Emily swallowed hard, pressing the sketchbook to her chest. It was a good-quality one, with excellent paper, and large enough to make decent-sized drawings. Her old sketchbooks seemed to fill up almost as soon as she got them, with sketches on both sides and in the margins.

“This party,” she said slowly, “it is a party, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Is it something for artists?”

He smiled broadly, leaning forward. Just like that, Emily’s whole world seemed to be full of the infuriating man, with his handsome face and his loose, un-pomaded locks and the delicious scent of his cologne.

“I shan’t spoil the surprise,” he murmured. “But as I said, you’ll like it.”

He sat back in his seat, smiling to himself, and refused to answer any further questions.

Sighing to herself, Emily drew back the curtains, watching the rain-soaked streets fly by. She flinched when a broad hand slapped the curtain back into place.

“Have a care, Miss Belmont,” the duke scolded. “Imagine if you’re glimpsed peering out of a nondescript carriage such as this, in the middle of the night.”

“It’s midnight,” she muttered peevishly. “Nobody is around.”

“There’s always somebody,” he muttered darkly. “Take my word for it.”

A few more minutes passed, and the carriage rolled to a halt. Frowning, Emily strained her ears. She could hear no music, no chatter.

“It’s so quiet,” she murmured.

“This party isn’t going to spill out down the front steps.” The duke chuckled, reaching for the door handle. “People sneak in and out. It’s worth it, however. You’ll see.”

He opened the door and climbed out, extending a hand for Emily to climb down. She did so, peering around her. He didn’t let go of her hand, and she didn’t draw it back either.

They were at a large house in the middle of a countryside estate. The front door was resolutely shut, and all the curtains were drawn, but light blared out of just about every window.

I’m excited, Emily realized with a shiver of delight. His warmth seemed to seep into her very bones.

The duke led her up the steep marble stairs and tapped on the door. When the door inched open, a wave of warmth, laughter, and music rolled out. It was different from the stately tunes played at social events. Already, her foot was tapping to the music.

There was a gasp from within, and the door opened properly. A woman of about thirty stood there, very pretty, with vivid red hair. She was dressed well, in rolling, sea-colored velvets, studded with pearls and sequins. However, Emily did not recognize her. She wasn’t out, and they certainly did not run in the same circles. She even wore…

Emily bit back a gasp. The woman hadrougeon her cheeks and lips!

“Your Grace!” the woman squealed. “How wonderful to see you! We were afraid you weren’t coming.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Clara.” The duke laughed. “This is Miss Emily Belmont. I believe I mentioned her to you.”

“You did, you did.” The woman beamed, pulling Emily in a sudden, tight hug. She was too shocked to pull away. “I hear that you are a painter, Miss Belmont,” she said, grinning. “I do hope we can see your work at some point. The duke waxed quite poetic about your talents.”

She threw a pointed look at the duke, who cleared his throat and pretended not to have heard.

Emily wasn’t entirely sure how to react. Should she be pleased?

“I hope so, too,” she stammered. “I am sorry, but I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”