“Are you completely certain, Emma? If Bolton rejects you, it will be my fault. I could never live with the guilt of that.”
“I am certain.” She squeezed Louisa’s hands. “Tell Worthington how you feel. Tonight.”
“Tonight? There will be a hundred people there. I cannot just sneak off to speak with him alone.”
Emma fell back on the bed, laughing. “Do you know how many times I have seen you sneak off with him?”
“You have never said a word about that.”
“I’m your sister.”
“Oh, Emma.” She hugged her sister tightly. “I love you.”
“I know. Now get ready to tell Worthington those exact words.” She pulled away from Louisa. “Oh my Lord, you’ll be a duchess!”
Not that she thought her title would matter to her mother if it came at the expense of Emma’s future. “Let’s not put the cart before the horse. I am not certain how he
will react when I tell him.”
“I WAS TOLD YOU WANTED to see me.”
Harry glanced over at Ainsley as he sauntered into the study. Breathe. Don’t attack him. “Bloody hell, Ainsley! What are you about with Miss Drake?”
“Is there a problem?” he asked in an innocent tone.
Harry wanted to strangle his friend. “You are at her home several days a week, and if not, you are walking in the park with her.”
“As is Collingwood,” he replied, taking the seat across from Harry. “It is the usual practice in courting a lady.”
“You are not courting Miss Drake.”
Ainsley arched a light brown brow in question. “Indeed? It is time for me to find a wife. I don’t want some silly girl who will drive me mad with persistent chatter. I enjoy the fact that Miss Drake has a brain and isn’t afraid to show it.”
“Not her,” Harry rasped. “You can have any woman you want, but her.”
Ainsley’s lips rose into a smug grin. “Is that right?”
“Yes.”
Ainsley tilted his head at the glass in Harry’s hand. “Drowning your sorrows?”
Harry sipped his brandy with a shake of his head. “I am not drowning my sorrows. Just trying to get drunk enough to be able to feign pleasure at having all these people in my home.”
“Or enough for the courage to face Miss Drake.”
“She was not invited. This is Daphne’s party, not mine, and my sister would prefer that none of the Drakes enter this house.”
Ainsley shook his head.
“It’s better this way,” Harry muttered. He would not think about her tonight. Not bloody likely. She was always in his thoughts.
“Of course,” Ainsley said with sarcasm lining his voice.
“It is.”
“Absolutely.”
Harry glared over at the man who had been his wicked influence when they were younger.