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.”“Badgering her?” Thomas sat up straight and glared at his younger brother over their mother’s sleeping head.And silently let Sebastian know he did not appreciate his interfering.Thomas’s stomach revolted at the thought of he and his brother coming to blows over Emma.Or worse…Sebastian married to Emma.It was not that Thomas wanted her for himself… Well, that wasn’t really true.He did want her, but in his bed—and the thought shamed him.Thomas prided himself in his ability to control his baser needs.Approaching her with his physical desire to possess her body…that would never happen.Honor, respect and responsibility meant everything to him.If one did not have those, what worthy qualities could one have?“Miss Hamilton…” He bowed his head and forced his voice to sound contrite.“I am deeply sorry if I embarrassed you with my line of questioning.But as you are aware, I am your protector, chosen by your father.And as your protector, it is my duty to find a suitable husband for you.I promise you I will not make that decision lightly as I realize my decision will affect you until your dying days.And at such time I find someone I deem worthy of your hand, I will expect your honest opinion on the gentleman in question.” He raised his brows.“Do I make myself clear enough for you?”***“Yes, Your Grace.” Emma’s voice was low and toneless.How dare he treat her as though she were a simple-minded child? Concentrating on breathing calmly, she closed her eyes and didn’t open them until they reached Wentworth House.As she exited the carriage, she ignored the hand offered by the duke and once inside voiced her goodnights, withdrew to her room, and relaxed for the first time since the awkward ride home.Rosie, who had waited up for her, helped her undress and put on her night rail.Emma climbed beneath the coverlets of her bed, so sleepy that even the excitement of her first ball failed to keep her awake.***Myles lounged on a settee placed on the deep piled carpet in front of the fireplace in his library.His back rested comfortably.His legs sprawled out in front of him, and he held a glass of good Scotch whiskey in his long, lean fingers—one of several he’d drunk since returning home from the Caulfields’ ball.He rose several times and went to the sideboard to refill his glass, and then when his legs became wobbly he carried the near-empty bottle back with him.No sense getting up every time Isabella’s lovely face and her adoring eyes flashed in his mind.How had he been so blind that he had not noticed her affection before? Of course, he had been absent for a year in America.Before that, to be honest, he had looked upon her as one of his sisters.“Damn you, Almighty God, and your games of the heart.” What little Myles had eaten during dinner churned around and around in his stomach.He prayed to God he could reciprocate Bella’s love, but he knew praying for that would do no good.He did love Bella; just not in the way she wanted him to love her.And though he wished it were otherwise, his heart was absent, drifting aimlessly somewhere over New Orleans, perhaps never to return.And though he would have to marry some day for affection and companionship, and to produce the all-important heir, he would not do Bella such an injustice as to choose her.She deserved to be loved and loved deeply.In time she would forget him and find another worthy of her heart.Myles had to believe that.He did not wish to inflict pain on Bella.He cared for her too much to do that.Emma would make him a perfect wife––or so he had believed on the onset of their return trip from America.By the time the ship docked in London he knew otherwise.Myles could no more marry her than marry Bella.They deserved more than convenience or friendship.They deserved to be cherished and loved.During the next society function he would have his own sister, Marissa, to think about.Due to a stomach ailment she had missed tonight’s ball [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]