Free The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga) by Christine Donovan Page B

her
in bed under the rich, silky covers. The last thing Emma remembered before
falling into a dreamless and utterly exhausted sleep was the duke’s scowling
face and his penetrating eyes as they had appeared their last time together.
    ***
    “Miss Emma,
wake up,” Rosie murmured as she threw open the doors to the wardrobe. The
rustling of taffetas, silks, and satins pulled Emma from sleep. “It’s time to
dress for dinner. There will only be family this evening so nothing formal. How
about this lovely pink evening dress?”
    Emma sat up,
swung her legs over the side of the bed, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
“Oh, I cannot. That is not mine.” She shuffled to the wardrobe and gently
fingered the exquisite and expensive clothing hanging there, everything from
day dresses to ball gowns to riding habits. Where had they all come from? She
had nothing so fine in her trunk. She’d left all her lovely clothes in America
because she had outgrown them.
    “Rosie, where
did all these come from?” she asked as her pulse soared. Though not hers, she
wished she had time to try them on one by one and parade before the mirror.
    “His Grace,”
Rosie replied.
    His Grace. Emma remembered his scowl and quickly snatched her hand back from fingering the
pink taffeta evening dress Rosie had recommended. Emma frowned. How on earth
had he accomplished all this? What purpose did he have that had him dressing
her so fine? Her heart slammed into her chest.
    Of course it
made perfect sense. The duke needed to marry her off, and how could he
accomplish that with her wearing the less-than-stylish clothes she had brought
with her? If she arrived in London drawing rooms or attended balls wearing her
own clothing, she would be laughed at. And not only herself––the whole Seabrook
family would be shamed as well.
    Her eyes
scanned the room. While she slept, Rosie had certainly been busy. The dressing
table overflowed with bottles of creams and perfumes, hair combs, ribbons, and
pins. Emma smelled a perfume bottle full of a wonderfully light jasmine scent.
How did he know she’d like this?
    Emma sauntered
over to the chest of drawers and opened one after another and found
undergarments worthy of a queen. Without a thought, she fingered the chemises
and nightshifts made from such fine muslins and linens they would caress her
skin like a tender lover’s hands. Where had that thought come from? She blushed
down to her toes at the thought the duke had ordered each of these feminine
garments with her in mind. Surely not. That would be most improper.
    “Rosie, the
pink dress it will be.” For a moment she considered wearing one of her black
dresses, but she did not want to anger the duke. He had seemed positively put
out when they had arrived today, and she would just as soon not attract his
ire. If she were smart, she would stay far away from him. How could she stay
away when she owed him a thank you for her parent’s portrait? Well, after she
spoke to him she would stay quiet and blend in with his sisters, and quite
possibly, with any luck, he would then forget about her.
    And forget
about his duty to marry her off.
    Emma sucked in
her breath, partly because Rosie, at that precise moment, pulled tightly on the
stays to her corset. Also, she feared if she continued to upset him, the duke
would actually thrust her off into marriage without consulting her feelings or
thoughts on the subject.
    Oh,
fiddlesticks––surely she would have time to adjust to being part of the
Seabrook family before he sent her off to strangers? The dowager duchess seemed
to be a sensitive and caring mother. Perhaps she would become an ally.
    An hour later
Emma descended the stairs, her hands gripping the railing for dear life and her
heart beating in triple time against her rib cage. The panic threatening to
engulf her almost won out, but then she caught sight of Sebastian waiting at
the bottom of the stairs. The wide, welcoming smile plastered across his
handsome