“The eggs,” Emma sighed, resting her forehead against her hand. “I’d forgotten. Cook will have my head.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. Were Sophie’s fears justified? Was Meg being treated badly in her employer’s home? He’d not sit back and watch such a delicate girl be exposed to cruelty. He’d hire her himself before he allowed her to return to a painful existence.

Alex groaned as a fresh wave of desire pulsed through his body. Of course he couldn’t hire her. She’d end up in his bed within days. Sophie was right. Meg could go work for his sister. She’d be safe there from the likes of him. Good Lord, he was stunned by his own chivalry. It had been a long time since he’d felt any concern for any woman, except, of course, for his mother and sister, both of whom he adored.

It was well known throughout London that Alex was a confirmed bachelor. He knew he’d have to marry at some point, if only to produce an heir, but he saw no reason why he’d have to make such a sacrifice anytime soon. He kept his distance from all of the ladies of the ton, preferring the company of courtesans and opera singers. He had little patience for most of London’s social elite and trusted women not at all. Still, ladies flocked to his side at the few social events he attended, viewing his aloof manner and hard cynicism as a challenge. Alex rarely had gentle thoughts about any of these women. If a highborn lady flirted with him, he assumed that she was either exceedingly foolish or knew exactly what—or rather, whom—she wanted. He occasionally shared his bed with them, but nothing else.

He looked up. Meg was still sitting upright, staring demurely at her hands folded in her lap.

“You needn’t look so afraid, Meg. I won’t kiss you again.”

Emma gazed up at him, her violet eyes open wide. She didn’t say anything. In all truth she doubted her ability to put together a coherent sentence.

“I said you needn’t be afraid, Meg,” Alex repeated. “Your virtue is safe with me—at least for the next few minutes.”

Emma’s mouth fell open at his audacity. Then, disgruntled, she clamped her lips shut and looked away.

Alex groaned as he watched her full lips pursing together. Lord, she was gorgeous. Her hair, which had shone bright red in the sunlight, looked to be dark auburn now that he’d covered the windows. And her eyes—first he’d thought they were blue, then violet, but now they looked quite black.

Emma felt like she was about to explode, bristling at the nerve of this arrogant, overbearing man. She took deep breaths, trying to contain the temper that had already made her famous in two households, on two continents. She lost the battle.

“I really don’t think that you should be speaking to me in such a scandalous fashion. It is quite unfair of you to take advantage of my weakened condition in such a lewd way, especially when one considers that the only reason I’m sitting here with a throbbing lump on my head—not to mention in the company of quite the rudest man I’ve ever had the bad fortune to meet—is because I was watching your nephew when you and your sister were too careless to look after him properly.”

Emma sat back, pleased with her speech, and gave him her fiercest glare.

Alex was stunned by her tirade but careful not to show his surprise. “You’ve got quite a vocabulary, Meg,” he said slowly. “Where did you learn to speak so well?”

“That’s none of your business,” Emma spat out, trying desperately to come up with a believable story.

“But I’m terribly interested. Surely you could share with me one little tidbit about your past?”

“If you must know, my mother worked as a nurse to three young children. Their parents were very kind and allowed me to share their education.” There, that sounded good.

“I see. How generous of them.”

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes at his sarcasm.

“Alex!” a shrill voice called out. “I’m back! And we got twelve dozen eggs. I hope that’s enough.”

Twelve dozen! Emma’s heart sank. There was no way she’d be able to balance all those eggs. Now she’d have to let the duke take her back home in the carriage.

The door swung open and Sophie’s face appeared. “Oh, you’re awake!” she exclaimed, looking at Emma. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you.” Sophie grabbed one of Emma’s hands and clutched it in her own. “If there is any way I can help you, please let me know. My name is Sophie Leawood, and I’m the Countess of Wilding, and I will be forever in your debt. Here,” she said, thrusting a card in Emma’s hand, “take this. It’s my address, and you can call me day or night if you’re ever in need of anything.”

Emma could only stare at Sophie as the green-eyed woman paused for breath.

“Oh, my,” Sophie continued. “Where are my manners? What is your name?”

“Her name is Meg,” Alex answered smoothly. “And she hasn’t seen fit to share her surname with us.”

Emma fumed. He hadn’t even asked for her surname.

“Never you mind, my dear,” Sophie rambled. “You don’t have to tell us anything if you don’t want to—”

Emma looked at Alex triumphantly.

“—as long as you remember that I will be your friend for life and you can count on me for anything.”

“Thank you very much, milady,” Emma said quietly. “I will remember that, indeed. But I really would like to be getting back. I have been gone a long while, and Cook will be wondering about me.”