The Duke Who Knew Too Much Read Online Free PDF Page A

all, and she was used to maintaining her family’s home.
    It had taken Marianne’s gentle admonition to make Emma see that her behavior was having the opposite of its intended effect. She was actually upsetting the staff, who took her actions to mean that they were not doing their jobs properly.
    Horrified, Emma had stopped the lifelong habit of making her own bed. She’d allowed a maid to be assigned to her to help her dress and do her hair. And she never offered to help Chef Arnaud with meal preparations again.
    To her, leisure was a foreign concept and one that, frankly, did not sit well. She had no idea how upper class ladies managed all that free time. Thank goodness she had Kent and Associates. She would go mad if she didn’t have a meaningful purpose and something to do .
    When she entered the breakfast room, Ambrose looked up from the sideboard. Marriage suited her big brother well. Emma saw his wife’s hand in the simple yet fashionable charcoal cutaway and trousers perfectly tailored to his tall, lanky frame. His unruly dark hair had been wrangled into an expert cut. Most importantly, where haggard lines had once aged his appearance, he now looked younger, happier, his amber eyes warm with contentment.
    That, Emma thought with gratitude, had been Marianne’s true gift.
    “Good morning, Em,” he said. “You’re up early.”
    “No earlier than you.” She joined him at the buffet, eyeing the bewildering display of breakfast options.
    The Kents hadn’t always lived a life of luxury. Before he met Marianne, Ambrose had worked in London, supporting the entire family on a policeman’s wages whilst Emma managed the cottage back in Chudleigh Crest. For years, she and her brother had been a team, together taking care of their elderly father and younger brother and sisters.
    As if sharing that memory, Ambrose gave her a rueful smile. “It still takes getting used to, doesn’t it?”
    She didn’t need to ask what he meant. “Yes, it does.” Taking a plate, she chose some coddled eggs and said thoughtfully, “The girls are doing well with the new comforts, though. Thea’s health has improved, and Violet is excelling in her riding and dance lessons. Even Polly is flourishing.” She experienced a glad pang thinking of how their shy sixteen-year-old sister, the baby of the family, was coming out of her shell. “She’s delighted to be reunited with Rosie, who gives her confidence, I think.”
    Primrose—Rosie to all who loved her—was Marianne’s daughter from a youthful affair. It was the search for Rosie that had brought Ambrose and Marianne together eight years ago. While all the Kents thought of Rosie as one of their own, Rosie and Polly shared a special bond. They were of the same age and had been devoted to one another since their first meeting.
    “Rosie certainly has confidence to spare.” Though his tone was dry, the smile in Ambrose’s eyes spoke of his love for his spirited adopted daughter. “But there’s someone else you’ve yet to account for.”
    Emma took the chair that the footman held out. “Well, Harry is Cambridge’s problem now. I’d wager it’s a great deal safer for him to be tinkering in their laboratories than here.”
    Their younger brother had gone off to university the year before. An aspiring scientist, he had quickly established himself as a bit of a genius. Professors lauded the dear boy’s tendency to blow things to smithereens. He was spending the summer abroad, at the Université de Paris, learning advanced techniques from a famous French chemist.
    “I shudder to think of Harry’s expanding arsenal,” Ambrose said as he cut into his ham. “But I wasn’t referring to the lad.”
    Emma’s brow furrowed. “Who, then?”
    “You, Em. You haven’t said much about that ball two nights ago.”
    Beneath her brother’s scrutiny, Emma tried not to squirm. That was the thing about Ambrose: he didn’t miss a thing. He’d always said that, as an investigator, his