The Duke Who Knew Too Much Read Online Free PDF

main job was to observe and let the truth reveal itself. Images bombarded Emma—Lady Osgood helpless and bound to the gazebo, Strathaven, ducal and menacing—and she quickly dammed them off.
    You made Lady Osgood a promise. A Kent’s word is her bond.
    Ambrose requested fresh coffee from the footman. The latter left the room with the well-trained discretion that characterized all of Marianne’s staff.
    “That bad, was it?” Ambrose said when they were alone.
    Emma heard the undertone of sympathy in his deep voice. He, of all people, understood the challenges of living in a world in which one did not fully belong. Ambrose attended ton affairs without complaint because he loved his wife. It didn’t mean, however, that he liked them.
    “It was memorable,” Emma said truthfully.
    For an instant, she was tempted to tell her brother everything—but Lady Osgood’s hysterical threats rang in her head. She had given her word and couldn’t risk the other doing something foolish.
    Swallowing, she said, “The truth is that I’d much rather go to work with you than to any ball. Shall we leave soon? There’s much to do and—”
    “About that. We need to talk, Em.” Ambrose cleared this throat and set down his utensils. “You’ve been a marvel, and the partners and I are extremely appreciative for all you’ve done to help us recover from the fire. But a young woman like yourself shouldn’t be holed up in an office. You’ve known enough burdens, caring for the family all these years. I want more for you. Now is the time for you to enjoy yourself, to find happiness—”
    “I know what I need to be happy,” she blurted out.
    “Do you now?”
    Her heart pounded. Ready or not, she had to lay out her proposal.
    No time like the present—follow the wisdom of your heart.
    “I want to work with you. As an investigator, I mean,” she said in a rush.
    It wasn’t often that she saw Ambrose flummoxed. “You can’t be serious.”
    “I’ve never been more serious. With the new office and growing clientele, you need help. And I,”—she gave her brother a pleading look—“I need a purpose.”
    “You have plenty to do.” Ambrose sounded bewildered. “You look after the girls.”
    “They’re grown. They don’t need me like they once did.” Sorrow flickered at the reality. “They have lessons and fittings and outings to occupy their time now. When it comes to fashionable ways, Marianne is a far better mentor than I.”
    “Then spend your time meeting eligible gentlemen. Don’t you want a husband, Em, one you could have your own family with?”
    “I’ve not met a man whose morals I truly admire,” she said honestly. “If I were to marry, I would want a husband who shared my values and treated me as an equal partner.”
    All her life, she’d looked up to her father and brother, men of principle and character who were devoted to their families. Although Ambrose had wed a wealthy woman, marriage hadn’t altered his essential nature. He continued to work, no longer out of necessity but because he believed in the pursuit of justice. His pride was such that when his office had burned down, he’d refused to take Marianne’s money to rebuild it. He’d gone from one lender to the next, trying to secure a reasonable loan. Just as things had begun to look hopeless, he’d received backing from Hilliard Bank.
    ’Twas proof, he’d said, that perseverance was the key to success.
    “That’s because you haven’t met enough eligible gentlemen,” was Ambrose’s predictable reply. “You’ve been so busy taking care of everyone else that you haven’t had time to think of yourself.”
    “Even so, the fact remains that I’m hardly marriage material.” Prosaically, she counted off the points against her on her fingers. “I’m managing, forthright, not to mention practically on the shelf—”
    “You’re only four-and-twenty!”
    “In the ton , that makes me a spinster. Please, Ambrose,” she beseeched,