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Her eyes lit up. "Really?"
He exhaled and rested his forehead against his hand. "What am I going to do with you, minx?"
"Kiss me?" she said hopefully.
"I suppose I'll have to do just that." He leaned forward and brushed his lips gently against hers, carefully avoiding any deeper contact. He knew that if his body touched hers in any way, even just his hand on her cheek, he would be unable to stop himself from hauling her roughly into his arms. There was nothing he'd rather do, of course, but the Duke and Duchess of Ashbourne were expected at any moment, and Dunford had no particular desire to be caught flagrante delicti.
A discreet cough sounded from the doorway.
Too late.
Dunford pulled away, catching a glimpse of Henry's pinkening cheeks as he swerved his gaze to the doorway. Emma was trying very hard not to smile. Alex wasn't trying at all.
"Oh, God." Henry groaned.
"No, just me," Alex said affably, trying to put her at ease, "although my wife has, on more than one occasion, accused me of confusing myself with the one of whom you speak."
Henry smiled, very weakly.
"Good to see you, Ashbourne," Dunford muttered, getting to his feet.
Alex led his heavily pregnant wife to a comfortable chair. "I expect it would have been much better to see me five minutes hence," he murmured in Dunford's ear as he crossed the room to Henry. "Delightful to see you again, Henry. I'm glad to see you've conquered our dear friend here. Between you and me, he didn't stand a chance."
"I...uh..."
"For goodness sake, Alex," Emma said, "if you say one more thing to embarrass her, I shall have your head."
Only Henry could see Alex's face as he tried very hard to appear contrite, and she had to put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud.
"Perhaps you would like to be introduced to the virago in the yellow chair?" he said with a quirky half-smile.
"I see no virago," Henry said archly, catching Emma's smile from across the room.
"Dunford," Alex said, taking Henry's hand as she rose to her feet, "this woman is as blind as a bat."
Dunford shrugged, sharing an amused look with Emma.
"My darling wife," Alex said. "May I present—"
"That's 'darling virago wife' to you," Emma said pertly, her eyes twinkling mischievously at Henry.
"Of course. How remiss of me. My darling virago wife, may I present Miss Henrietta Barrett of Cornwall, lately of your Aunt Caroline's guest room."
"I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Barrett," the duchess said, and Henry rather thought she meant it.
"Please call me Henry. Everybody does."
"And you must call me Emma. I wish everybody would."
Henry decided instantly that she liked the young, flame-haired duchess and wondered why on earth she had been so apprehensive about meeting her. She was, after all, Belle and Ned's first cousin, and if that wasn't superb recommendation, she didn't know what was.
Emma stood up, ignoring the protests of her concerned husband, took Henry's arm, and said, "Let's be off. I am so eager to talk with you, and we can be much more frank without them." She flicked her head in the direction of the gentlemen.
Henry smiled helplessly. "All right."
"I cannot tell you how happy I am to finally meet you," Emma said as soon as they reached the hall. "Belle has written all about you, and I am so excited that Dunford has finally met his match. Not that I don't think you are lovely in your own right, but I have to admit, mostly I'm just pleased that Dunford has met his match."
"You are frank."
"Not half as much as you, if Belle's letters are any indication. And I couldn't be more pleased." Emma grinned at Henry as she steered them down a wide hallway. "Why don't I show you 'round Westonbirt while we chat? It's really a lovely home, for all its size."
"I think it's magnificent. Not at all forbidding."
"No," Emma mused, "it's not. Funny, that. It was meant to be, I think. But anyway, I am glad you are also frank. I have never had very much patience for the doublespeak of the ton."
"Nor I, your grace."
"Oh, please call me Emma. I hadn't a title of any sort until last year, and I still haven't gotten used to all the servants bobbing curtseys every time I walk by. If my friends don't use my given name, I shall probably die of too much formality."
"I should be very pleased to be counted among your friends, Emma."
"And I among yours. Now, you must tell me. How did Dunford propose? Something original, I hope."
Henry felt her face grow hot. "I'm not certain. That is to say, he hasn't exactly asked..."
"He hasn't asked you yet?" Emma blurted out. "That conniving little wretch."
"Now see here," Henry began, feeling the need to defend him even though she wasn't certain of the charge.
"No offense meant," Emma said quickly. "At least no major offense. I expect he did it so that we would turn a blind eye if the two of you happened to wander off on your own. He told us you were engaged, you know."
"He did?" Henry said uncertainly. "That's good, isn't it?"
"Men," Emma muttered. "Always going around thinking that a woman will marry them without even bothering to ask. I might have known he'd do something like this."
"It means that he is going to ask me, I should think," Henry said dreamily. "And I can't help but be happy about that because I do want to marry him."
"Of course you do. Everybody wants to marry Dunford."