Page 23 of A Duke to Steal Her

“And that makes it acceptable?” Her voice rose, hoarse but sharp. “You turned me into a scandal just to?—"

Ambrose’s jaw tightened. “If you knew what he’d done?—”

“But I don’t,” she snapped. “That’s the point, isn’t it? You’ve said nothing. You act like this was some noble act of justice, but all I see is a man who decided I was collateral damage.”

They stared at each other, the air between them stretched thin.

Ambrose straightened. “I will have your tea sent up shortly, My Lady. Eat heartily. Regain your strength. You’ll need it. Especially if you plan to keep scowling at me with such admirable dedication.”

Their eyes locked. Ambrose was once again drawn into a battle of wills with Lady Emily, but he returned her gaze unwaveringly. They might have stood in this same manner for hours had a soft knock at the door not interrupted them.

“Enter,” Ambrose barked.

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” Simmons said, deferentially keeping his eyes trained on Ambrose alone. “The Marquess of Fulton has arrived.”

The Duke blinked. “William? But why should he call now?”

Emily tilted her head slightly, and Ambrose could see curiosity swirling in her eyes.

Simmons lowered his chin and whispered discreetly, “He expressed the need to speak with you urgently.”

Emily straightened slightly, holding the chair. “Shall I accompany you? As I am your guest, and not your prisoner, ought I not be free to mingle with your other visitors?”

Ambrose sent her a dark look.

She’s challenging me, daring me to make a mistake.

“Come along if you wish.” He swept his arm wide, indicating she might even lead the way to the drawing room, should she feel so inclined.

Not to be bested by his theatrics, Emily lifted her chin and waltzed from the room, without even deigning to fix him with a haughty stare. He trailed after her until they reached the drawing room, where he gallantly stepped forward and opened the door.

William’s sharp brown eyes widened in surprise, but then one eyebrow arched high on his forehead, and the corner of his mouth set to twitching.

“Well,” he said, voice dry and perfectly pitched. “It seems I’ve interrupted somethingentertaining.”

Emily straightened, heat blooming in her face. She glanced at Ambrose, who did his best to look maddeningly unbothered.

“Pardon my directness, my lady,” the marquess said expectantly, as though waiting to be introduced. “But I did not expect my friend to bring along his companion.”

Lady Emily sniffed disdainfully. “I am no man’s companion.”

“Forgive me.” William ducked his head and stared at his feet. “I did not mean to imply?—”

“Perhaps I should not have invited you to join us after all,” Ambrose murmured.

“Yes,” Lady Emily agreed. “I certainly should not be here.” She nodded curtly at William. “I shall take my leave now.”

Her swirling skirts rustled as she spun on her heel and stalked out of the drawing room.

The door had barely clicked shut behind them before William rounded on him.

“That’s Lady Emily Walford, isn’t it? Lord Peirce’s intended?”

Ambrose answered slowly. “Not anymore.”

“For God’s sake—” He cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair. “You kidnapped the girl?”

“Don’t be absurd. She came with me willingly.”