Emma’s cheeks burned in shame. Of course she would believe her a servant. Never had Emma owned a dress half as exquisite as what this woman wore.
“No, Ingrid,” the duke replied. “Allow me to present Miss Emma Barrington. Her father keeps my books for me, and Emma is his assistant. Miss Barrington, this is Lady Ingrid Babbitt, Viscountess of Drudly and a dear friend of mine.”
The woman offered Emma a smile. “My apologies.” Before Emma could respond, Lady Babbitt turned back to the duke as if dismissing Emma outright. “You did not forget our dinner, did you?” How could the woman ever be taken seriously with such a pout on her lips?
The duke laughed. “No, I did not. I have been busy…”
Emma felt her stomach sicken as she stopped listening to their conversation. Standing beside Lady Babbitt, she felt the inferiority of her position as much as the plainness of who she was. It was no wonder the duke had an interest in this woman, for she was everything any man could want. Emma recalled her as being the woman who had arrived for dinner previously, and she felt out of place in their presence, as if she were intruding on their intimate moment.
What sickened her the most was that she had once again allowed thoughts of her and this man as a couple to intrude on her sensibilities. His words to her were that of kindness. What was it about the Duke of Rainierd that had her mind soaring on flights of fancy? She had always been a reasonable woman, and yet this man made her feel a young girl struck with infatuation! She had to stop the foolishness, for it would only lead to heartbreak. And Emma had no time for such trivialities.
“Forgive me, Your Grace, for taking you away from your schedule,” she said, not even taking note on whether or not she was interrupting. “I must be on my way back to the office. Lady Babbitt, it was a pleasure meeting you.” She dipped a quick curtsy. “Good evening.”
She forced herself to walk out to the carriage, stopping only long enough to gather her cloak and hat from the butler. Goodard gave her a kind smile, which she returned readily. He seemed a kind man, and was welcoming, for which she was glad, for although the duke was behaving himself thus far, she had seen how his demeanor could change at the drop of a hat. At least Goodard seemed a man she could count on for consistency, or so she hoped.
Once the carriage moved down the drive, she allowed herself a moment of relief. Never again would she put herself in the position to believe she had more with a man than she first thought. Be he duke or baron, it did not matter, for she had her heart to protect.
Chapter Eleven
Lucas stared out the window of the drawing room. It had been hours since Miss Barrington had left, and although the night outside was dark and lonely, he could still feel her presence around him. It was a light that provided warmth and comfort, far better than the brandy he drank this evening.
Ingrid came to stand beside him. “Does my conversation bore you?”
He sighed. “No, you do not bore me. My apologies; my mind has been elsewhere this evening. You know how I get when I have business concerns.”
Ingrid chuckled. “I think you have more than business concerns on your mind,” she said. “Am I correct in saying so?”
He raised his glass and took a drink. She had always been good at reading his thoughts and spoke with him without restriction. It was strange now being alone with her, even as a friend. If he were asked to explain why, he was unsure he could, but a feeling of unfaithfulness surrounded him. It made no sense, for he and Miss Barrington had no relationship beyond a business arrangement, but it was there, nonetheless.
Sharing such sentiments with a woman of the ton, a woman who would not understand this strange infatuation he had with a common woman, was out of the question, regardless of how much he considered her a friend. “Perhaps,” he replied to her question. “Or it could be that I am only thinking of work.”
“I have told you often that you are too consumed with work, have I not?” When he nodded his agreement, she continued. “Now, I will not have you thinking of business. You should think of pleasure. Enjoy yourself for once in your life.” She pulled him by the arm, indicating he should follow her. The only place she could be leading him was the couch, a much too intimate place for two people who were simply friends. Granted, they had shared the same couch on several occasions over the years, but tonight felt somehow different.
He swallowed hard. No, they were not going to the couch, for she led him past it. Beyond it was the cart that held several crystal decanters of spirits. Was Ingrid attempting to seduce him? Never before had she attempted such a thing, but he stared at her hand in horror. He had to put a stop to this madness before it went too far!
“Ingrid, enough,” he murmured as images of the bookkeeper’s daughter flashed in his mind. The stricken look on Miss Barrington’s face if he were to share even a kiss with this woman. The hurt it would cause her. It was all silly, for she had not indicated she had any feelings for him, but he could not stop the explosion of anger that erupted in him. “Ingrid! I said enough!”
Ingrid backed into the nearby bookcase as if afraid. “Lucas? What have I done?”
“You are my friend, and we have conducted business together, but trying to fill me with brandy and have your way with me is unacceptable and beneath you!” His breathing was heavy, and his face burned with anger.
Yet Ingrid said nothing; she simply shook her head.
“Do not ever try that again.”
She sighed heavily. “I only wanted you to read a book I recently read and thoroughly enjoyed. I thought it might bring you pleasure.” Indeed, in her hand she held a book, and guilt rushed through him. He had misread her intentions, had taken her words and actions in a direction he had never considered before, and he was ashamed of himself beyond measure
“I do not know what to say,” he whispered. “I can only apologize for my outburst. I had thought you meant to…” His words trailed off as he realized how silly they sounded.
“To seduce you?” She finished for him. Walking past him, she placed her wine glass on the table. “To think I would make such an attempt hurts me more than you will ever know. We have been friends for many years. I know what others believe, I know the rumors, but I never thought you believed them, as well.” She gave him a sad look and then walked to the door.
“Ingrid, please,” he called after her. “Forgive me. I do not know why I reacted in such a manner.”
The woman smoothed her skirts and took a deep breath. “Many times you have allowed me to be the recipient of your anger. I have endured it, trying to conduct business with you, but more importantly, to maintain our friendship. And after all this time, after all we have been through, you not only accuse me of seduction, but you also treat me like a common woman? Good evening to you, Your Grace.”
“Ingrid!” he called out once again, but she ignored him.
Lucas felt his chest tighten, almost as tight as when his parents had died. He doubled up his fist and drove it into the bookcase, but it brought him no relief, so he kicked a small table, the vase it held smashing to the floor. Then he went to the liquor card and overturned it, the crystal creating a lilting melody as it, too, shattered on the floor and mingled with the various liquids the decanters held. Letting out a roar, he went to his desk wondering if he had the strength to throw it out the window.
***
That night, as his servants cleaned up the disaster Lucas had made of his office—he had not thrown his desk out the window, it had been much too heavy to lift on his own—he stood out on the veranda staring out into the night. He could not see anything beyond the glowing patches that poured out the windows, but he did not care.
All his life, anger had consumed him, and he saw the result of what he could not control in the disapproving look his father gave him that matched how Ingrid looked at him tonight. He felt a fool for his constant misreading of situations, to always want to please and yet failing at every turn. The storm inside always raged no matter how hard he tried to bring it under c
ontrol.
Then there was Miss Barrington. The mere thought of the woman seemed to soothe him, far more than the brandy that trickled down his throat. Her words, her smile, her simple presence created a calmness he needed. Although he had hired her to teach him better methods for keeping his books, he knew the truth. Somehow, she could see past his temper and see him for who he was.
No, that made no sense, for if he could not see past the storm inside him, how could a simple woman such as she? Therefore, the question still remained: Who was he?
For that matter, who was she? He was seeing her as a different person from the first time they had met, and that only confused him all the more. He took another drink of his brandy, his thoughts sorting through the muddled mess in his head that resembled the chaos he had handed her that first day she had gone over his ledgers.
He knew the truth, but he did not want to admit it; he had a growing attraction to her. The woman had strength of character and could settle a storm with her mere presence. A woman who had assisted her father despite the fact she was a woman. She had no title, no wealth, and yet she had a greater gift that blazed in her eyes. A calm, encouraging love, and he wanted it more than ever.
Chapter Twelve
Mr. Theodore Bromley was an older man with wisps of fine, gray hair combed over the top of an otherwise bare head, and Emma found him pleasant during their conversation together.
“Although I do not partake in as much business as when I was younger,” the man was saying as he sat across from Emma in her father’s office, “I still have many holdings. My son has been slowly taking over, as he should, but I still maintain the bulk of the ledgers.”
“Well, you will be happy to know that my father has been a bookkeeper in this area for many years,” Emma replied with a smile. “You will not hear a negative word spoken against him.”
The man nodded. “And his assistant, Mr. Foreman is it?”
“That is correct,” she said, stifling the laugh that tried to erupt. Stephen would be over the moon to hear a man in Mr. Bromley’s place address him in such a manner.
“A fine gentleman,” Mr. Bromley said. “I was never made to feel more welcomed in my life by a stranger. As a matter of fact,” he looked around the room, “I almost expected it to be he who would be at this meeting if your father was absent.”
Emma had to force herself from shouting at the man. When would men learn that women were as intelligent as they? “Unfortunately, Stephen…that is Mr. Foreman is otherwise indisposed or he would have been happy to meet with you.”
Mr. Bromley stood, and Emma followed suit. “Send the man over Monday to collect my ledgers,” he said as he straightened his coat. His stomach was so large that he was unable to button it. “Will your father require payment beforehand?” He went to reach into his coat pocket, but Emma forestalled him.
“Payment is made upon delivery of your completed ledgers,” Emma assured him. “That is how much stock we, that is my father puts into the work completed in this office.”
“Excellent,” the man said with a wide grin. “That is exactly what I was hoping to hear. Good day, Miss Barrington.”
Emma escorted the man to the door, her heart racing with excitement. Mr. Bromley had moved into the area with his hat-making business, and Stephen had scooped the man up before another bookkeeper had even considered approaching the man. Perhaps they would set a new precedent; if one wanted a client, one did not wait for him to come. One went out and caught him.
The best part was that this was the second client Stephen had brought to the office in the past two days, and he could not have been prouder. He peeked around the corner of a building across the street, and Emma motioned for him to return once Mr. Bromley was out of sight.
“Well?” Stephen asked, his hat clutched so tightly in his hands his fingers would forever be imprinted on it. “What did he say? Were you able to acquire him?”
“I was,” Emma replied before squealing with delight. “You have been a wonder, Stephen! I must thank you for what you have done.”
The man turned three shades of red. “There’s no need, Miss Emma,” he replied, although his voice was choked. “It’s an honor to help you.”
Reaching into the drawer of her father’s desk, Emma produced several coins and placed them in Stephen’s hand.
“Oh, no, Miss Emma,” he said as he tried to return the farthings to her. “I don’t need nothing…I mean, I don’t need anything. You’ve helped me out so much already.”
She closed his fingers around the coins. “I would like for you to have a nice meal today. Call it a reward most fitting for what Mr. Bromley called ‘a fine gentleman’.”
Stephen’s eyes almost covered his entire face they widened so. “A gentleman? I?” He looked down at the coins and then his new coat. “I suppose I am at that!” He beamed so much he could have lit a darkened room.
He straightened his posture—and his hat before placing it on his head—and grabbed his lapels with each hand. “A gentleman,” he whispered. “Who’da thought?”
Emma giggled and then coughed to cover it. “Now, do not run off and get married on me,” she teased. “I still need your help around here.”
“No, I won’t, I promise.” Poor Stephen did not seem to catch her teasing tone. “I must admit, though, the women have smiled at me more since I’ve gotten my new coat.” This seemed to baffle him as much as fill him with pride.
“You will be fighting them all off if you are not careful,” Emma said.
This made him laugh, clearly catching the humor of her words this time. “Ah, now, Miss Emma,” he said, blushing more now than he had earlier, “you know that ain’t…isn’t true.” However, he stood taller and held his chin higher than she had ever seen from him in the past.
Emma looked around the room and smiled. Clients, and their money, were beginning to pour in and for the first time in a long time, she began to believe that her life would flourish once again.
***
The euphoria did not continue throughout the remainder of the day. Emma had arrived at Bonehedge manner as the duke had requested, and Goodard had led her to the gardens, where the duke was waiting. As she no longer needed to learn the names of the flowers or trees, they seemed to have little to discuss, and every attempt Emma made at beginning a conversation was met with grunts and off-hand comments. Soon, she fell into a silence that matched his, unsure what was expected of her.
It was on their second round that the duke finally spoke. “You appeared pleased when you first arrived,” he said as the light breeze ruffled his hair. “What was the cause of such pleasure, if I might ask?”
Emma considered telling the man that it was not his business to know her personal life, but she did not want to upset him. He was ripe for an outburst, and she could not add fire to the kindling. Perhaps it was the dark clouds that were gathering in the distance that seemed to strengthen him, but whatever it was, she had to tread lightly. “This week I have taken on two clients,” she replied to his question. “For once, I feel there is hope ahead of me, when all there was before was darkness.”
She glanced over at the man, who seemed to consider her words before giving a short nod. He made no reply, however, so she decided to use what had been their first true conversation as a means to learn what was troubling him, for something, indeed, was causing distress.
“You are unhappy,” she said, attempting to keep her voice light. “Might I ask why?”
He turned to her, his eyes narrowed in anger. “Do not presume to know anything about me, Miss Barrington,” he snapped.
She was taken aback at his harsh words, and she could not stop the fear that gripped her. She had seen only a glimpse of the storm that brewed in this man; would she learn the strength of his tempest now?
“I apologize, Your Grace,” she said in a soft voice. “I did not mean any offense by my question.”
He sighed heavily. “No, you did nothing wrong,” he said. “The truth of the matter
is I lashed out at a friend of mine earlier this week. I did not like what I heard, so I…” He paused and took a deep breath. “I grew angry.”
He tightened his hand into a fist at his side, and Emma could see he was fighting down the urge to lash out again, even though nothing but a memory provoked him.
“She left in anger, and I wonder if I shall ever see her again.” He glanced at Emma. “What do I do? Do I let her alone and see if she comes around? Or should I go to her and beg her forgiveness?”
Emma knew instantly of whom he spoke, for the ‘she’ could only have been Lady Babbitt. They must have had a lover’s quarrel, something Emma had never experienced. How would a woman who had never been in love counsel anyone about such issues?
They stopped before the wondrous rolling hills, and Emma turned to look into the duke’s eyes. How easy it would have been for her to advise him to not pursue this other woman; however, doing so would benefit Emma and her selfishness. Although it pained her, the heart of this man belonged to another, and nothing she could say or do could make him look at her in such a manner.
“My advice would be to seek her out when you are ready and apologize for your actions. I believe she would forgive you if you did so.” If it were she who sought his apology, she would forgive him.
“And if she does not accept my apology?” he asked. “What do I do then?”
His worry warmed her heart, for it proved the level of emotion that resided deep inside him. Yet, he allowed his anger to prevail over his life. The man was in need of Emma’s aid, and she was determined to do what she could to see he was successful in reining in his temper.
“You can do no more than that,” she said. “It is in forgiveness that the storm inside you will calm.” As she spoke, thunder rumbled in the distance as if to mock her words. “If you refuse to seek her out, the storm will only grow stronger and less manageable. You may come to a point where you are unable to control it when in her presence, or in the presence of anyone who upsets you.”
Regency Hearts Boxed Set Page 68