Duke of Dishonor (Lords of Scandal 11)

“If I need to pull some hair, you just tell me,” Eliza said from next to Emily. “I’m also deadly with a fan.”

Everyone laughed, even Aunt Mildred, as carriages rumbled up the drive.

Avery came down the stairs, wearing her requisite black as she gave them a look of longing. “I wish I could go with you.”

“We’ll see you out next season,” Isabella soothed her cousin. “Your period of mourning will be over before you know it.”

The girl nodded but Emily winced in sympathy. She knew that Avery wasn’t really mourning the loss of her father, which made this time so much more difficult to bear.

The front door swung open and Brandon walked through looking tall and so handsome as he filled the door opening.

Behind him stood another man, the Baron of Breckenridge. Emily had met the man a few times because he was in business with Bash, but she didn’t know him well.

He bowed to all of them and then turned to Abigail, bowing again.

Abigail curtsied in return, but a decided frown marked her brow. Before she could question her sister’s reaction, Emily’s attention turned back to Brandon.

He approached, his eyes running up and down her frame. “You look stunning.”

Her cheeks heated as she dropped into a curtsy and then offered her gloved hand. He placed a kiss on the cloth and more warmth radiated from her core.

His hand was large, swallowing hers as he continued to hold her fingers in his palm. “Thank you,” she said, noting that her voice had a breathless quality as though she’d just run a great distance.

“Well, we’re all assembled. Shall we?” Bash said as he wrapped an arm about Isabella’s waist.

Brandon never let her fingers go as he tucked her hand into his elbow. Her pulse began to race. Perhaps he could have an affection for her after all.

He handed her into his carriage and slid into the seat across from her. Eliza settled next to her while Menace took the seat opposite his wife.

An awkward silence fell as the carriage started. Emily didn’t know how to ask questions with an audience and Brandon didn’t offer comments either.

“Beautiful night,” Menace finally murmured.

“It’s freezing and about to rain.” Eliza looked across the way. “Why would you say such dribble?”

Menace chuckled. “You can’t even let me fall back on mundane conversation about the weather? I was trying to fill the silence.”

Eliza huffed. “Let’s discuss something that matters.” Then she gave Emily a sidelong glance. “And someone who isn’t in this carriage. What is the Baron of Blasphemy doing here?”

“Here?” Menace answered ducking his head.

Eliza leaned forward. “You know very well what I mean. Why is he the eighth member of our party?”

Menace lifted his chin and was now inspecting the ceiling. “You’ll have to ask Bash. Blasphemy’s attending on his invite. Obviously. He’d never get an invitation from the king otherwise.”

Pointing her finger, she lifted off the seat and poked her husband in the chest. “Precisely. So why did Bash invite him? And don’t say, ask Bash. I’m asking you. And start talking if you want to sleep in my bed tonight.”

“’Liza,” he said, his voice taking on a wounded puppy tone. “Don’t be like that. You’re going to be angry either way so why not be angry at Bash?”

“Because,” she huffed, “I can’t kick Bash out of my bed.”

“Get your sister to do it then. He’s the one that deserves the treatment and Isabella has the power to make him suffer.”

“Not a bad plan,” Eliza murmured. “But not relevant now. I want answers.”

Emily looked back and forth between them. “What has you so worried, Eliza?”

“I’m worried because,” Emily turned to look at her. “Blasphemy is crass, ill-mannered, and barely social