“Yet, how does one apologize?”
“You simply ask for forgiveness. It is up to the other person to accept your apology or not, but if you do not offer it, it cannot be accepted.”
He turned to her, his eyes pleading. “Yes, but how?”
She smiled up at him. “By simply saying you are sorry,” she replied. “And always make an attempt to include for that which you are apologizing. Let me give you an example, if I may.”
“Please.”
“When I was a young child, my mother had a small porcelain bird she had received as a gift from my father. We did not have much, so that figurine had a place of honor on a small shelf my father had attached to the wall. One day, I was angry at my mother—I do not even remember why now—and in my anger, I slammed the door closed behind me. The force of the door being slammed closed made the bird fall to the floor, where it broke into a thousand pieces. It could never be repaired. Apologizing for what I had done had not been an easy task, but I begged her forgiveness, and I made it clear that it was for my behavior that led to the breaking of her precious bird and not for the breaking itself. That is important. It was my behavior that led to the hurt; therefore, I apologized as such. My mother accepted my apology, and it gave me a wondrous sense of relief, for the guilt I felt had been great. It also brought a sense of warm pleasure by those actions.”
“Did your mother replace the figurine?” the duke asked.
Emma shook her head. “No. She passed away the following year from a fever.” It was easier to say the words now than in the past, but they still hurt.
“I am sorry about your mother.”
“Thank you,” she said. Then she turned back to look at him with narrowed eyes. “However, that is not the same as giving an apology for a wrongdoing. Remember that.”
“I will remember.”
They stood looking out over the open expanse of hills without speaking, each in his or her own world until the duke spoke.
“I…am sorry for raising my voice to you,” he said in a voice just above a whisper. “Forgive me.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” she said, surprised he would begin his apologies with her, a mere woman in his service. “However, there is no reason to apologize to me.”
He turned to her. “There is. For if I do not, it is as you said; I risk the chance of losing you.”
It was as if lightning had struck her. For a brief moment, she wondered if he meant to keep her by his side forever, but rational thinking returned. He spoke of their business arrangement and nothing more. What a fool she was once again. What was it about this man that had her thinking romantic thoughts? She simply could not understand any of it.
“Then, I forgive you,” she said and was pleased to receive a smile in return. “May I ask you something?”
He gave her a nod as he looked back toward the hills. “You may.”
“The anger that resides inside you?” she asked, doing her best to speak her words carefully. “Do you know its cause? You do not have to share whatever it is with me, but it is important that you understand the underlying reason as to why you are easily upset.”
She thought he would not respond for a moment, but then he sighed. “I do. However, whenever it comes to mind, it makes my anger increase tenfold. I would say it is a curse. Would you agree?”
“If you allow it to control you, then yes, I could name it as such. However, it can also be a blessing.”
The man threw his head back and laughed, a clear, mocking tone. “A blessing?” he asked, still chuckling. “How could what makes me angry be a blessing?”
“It is a spark,” Emma explained, ignoring his brusque behavior, “that could be used for good.” When the duke scrunched his brow in confusion, she added, “Allow me to explain.”
“Please do.”
“When you find yourself angry, do not allow it to control you. Instead, use the energy it provides to guide you.” She sighed in frustration, for her words were not making sense and she knew it. “The storm that rages there.” She waved at the hillside toward the now dark clouds that had gathered.
“What of it?”
“The rain, the thunder, and the lightning all work together. They bring forth the rain that brings water for dry grass, to crops that thirst.”
He stared off toward the coming storm for several moments before saying, “I have never considered it in that sense. So, you advise that I should use my anger for good?”
Emma smiled. “Indeed, Your Grace,” she replied, glad her words finally were comprehensible. “When you find yourself angry, as you did with your friend, control the storm. Do not allow it to control you.”
He shook his head. “But how do I do such a thing?”
“With practice,” she said.
The duke drew in a deep breath and shook his head, but then his face took on a kind look.
“That smile is the answer.”
“My smile?” he asked, touching his lips as if to feel the upturn of his lips.
“Indeed, for it is a very nice smile.” Then an idea came to her. “Perhaps it is what you should practice. Every time you become angry, force yourself to smile.”
This time when he laughed, it was filled with mirth rather than mockery. “Perhaps one day my name shall be Duke of Smiles rather than Duke of Storms.”
This made Emma join in his laughter. “Perhaps.” And perhaps one day I will find a man like you, one who will take me in his arms and hold me, she thought. Then her mind went off on its own again, bringing forth images of the two of them together.
That is, until he spoke again. “Today I have learned something new from you. I would like to visit my friend tonight and apologize.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” she said, wishing she could bury herself in a hole—or at least her great imagination, for all it seemed to do was cause her to suffer. “I must be on my way, as well.”
“Will you return this week?” he asked as they began the trek back to the house. The first spits of rain began to fall, and they quickened their pace.
Emma wished to respond that, indeed, she would return. If it were up to her, she would never leave Bonehedge Estates. However, to make such a statement would be unfair to this man, for his heart was with another. Therefore, she replied, “I am afraid I will be very busy this week. Those new accounts and all.”
“Oh.” Was that disappointment she heard in his tone? But no, that could not be the case, for it made no sense. “Perhaps next Saturday?”
“I am sorry, but I have meetings all week.” She hated to lie, but it was for the best. The closeness they shared, or at least the closeness she felt, could not continue, for one or both would be hurt in the end, and she could not take another blow.
“At night?” he asked in surprise as they stopped beneath the eaves of the house.
She sighed. “No, not at night.” No lie would come to mind excusing her from an evening meeting with this man.
“Excellent!” he said with a wide grin. “I shall send my carriage for you at five Saturday next. You may join me for dinner.”
Emma could do nothing but nod her agreement before the carriage rolled up in front of the house. A thousand thoughts swarmed in her mind, but only one returned to the surface time and again.
What kind of man had one woman on his arm and invited another to dinner?
Chapter Thirteen
Standing beneath the covered stoop outside the Babbitt home, Lucas swiped at the rain that covered his overcoat. The rain had held back its deluge until he stepped from the carriage, and he had not even had time to open an umbrella before water was running off the brim of his hat.
He considered the words Miss Barrington spoke earlier. Apologies never came easy for him, and when he had asked for forgiveness in the past, his motives had always been selfish. Perhaps they were now, as well, but regardless, he needed Ingrid’s friendship, for he had few friends in this world.
He pounded on the door, and it opened to Osmond, Ingrid’s y
oung butler.
“Your Grace,” the man said as he took a quick step back. “Please, come in out of the rain.” He helped Lucas out of his coat and took his hat. “Lady Babbitt is in the drawing room. Would you like me to announce you?”
“That will not be necessary, Osmond,” Lucas replied with a smile. “I know the way.”
The man gave him a deep bow and moved to put away the dripping coat and hat Lucas had been wearing. Lucas then walked across the lavish foyer to the drawing room, admiring the manner in which Ingrid had redecorated in the Neo-Classic fashion favored by the ton at the moment. She had always been one to keep up with the latest styles, and her house reflected it.
He peeked through the drawing room door and spied Ingrid standing with a glass of wine peering through the window. It was not until that moment that he realized how important her friendship was to him. If she did not accept his apology, he would be devastated.
She turned from the window and gasped when she saw him. “Lucas?” she said, placing her hand against her breast. “What are you doing here?”
Lucas walked over to stand beside her. “I came to apologize,” he said. “My actions when you were last in my home were uncalled for; in fact, they were horrible.” He took her hand in his. “I am very sorry. I value our friendship more than you can imagine, and it is something I do not wish to lose.”
“Your smile,” she said in what appeared to be contemplation. “It is bright and addictive.”
“My words, my actions, the accusations.” He shook his head. “My temper,” he added with a sigh. “You were correct when you said that I have allowed you to be the recipient of my anger, and you are the last person I wish to hurt.”
“I know that,” she said in a quiet tone. “It is why we are, and always will be, great friends, even in the worst of times.”
Lucas was dumbfounded by her words. “Then you forgive me?” he asked in wonderment. “After I accused you of…” He cleared his throat, for the words were difficult to say. “Even after my accusations of trying to seduce me?” Hearing the words aloud made them all the more difficult to stomach, and he felt a complete fool for having thought them in the first place. Never had this woman made any attempt to be more than a friend.
Ingrid placed a hand on his cheek. “You are forgiven,” she said.
As the words left her lips, a warmth filled Lucas, a calm and soothing feeling just as Miss Barrington had promised. Perhaps this new outlook on life would be worth the discomfort that preceded it after all.
“Would you like a drink?” Ingrid asked as she approached the liquor cart. “I have a new wine I would like you to try.”
“Please,” Lucas replied, although he continued to revel in the satisfaction of what had just taken place. He watched the storm as he waited, the windows vibrating lightly as the thunder rumbled through the air. However, the storm inside remained calm. As a matter of fact, it was calmer than it had been in quite some time.
Ingrid handed him a glass of red wine and asked, “Now, will it be rude of me to presume a certain woman was in your company again today?”
He took a sip of the wine. “This is very good,” he commented in surprise. “Where did you find it?”
“It was brought in from France just this morning. I placed a special order from a new vineyard I visited recently, and they did not disappoint.” She gave him a coy smile. “And do not avoid my question.”
He laughed. “I was not avoiding anything,” he said. “And yes, Miss Barrington called in today, and we spent a small amount of time together.” When she gave that same coy smile, he asked, “What do you think of her? I realize you only met her briefly, but you have always been a good judge of character. I promise I will not become angry.”
She sighed. “Very well, I will give you my honest opinion,” the woman replied. “However, remember that you said it best; I have only met the woman for a very brief moment, so I judge based on what I have previously seen or experienced and not on anything I know of the woman herself.”
“Go on, then. Tell me. I may not like it, but I will listen, nonetheless.”
She walked over to one of the wing-backed chairs and offered him the other beside it. “I do not trust many people, but I especially do not trust those who are of the lower classes, not when it comes to matters of the heart. I mean, the woman is not even of the gentry, Lucas! I realize she has done you no harm thus far, and yet I cannot help but wonder.”
“May I ask why? For I find her kind, beautiful, intelligent, so many qualities that those of the upper classes find appealing.”
“It is because of those things,” she said, turning toward him. “Lucas, you are a duke. It is expected you marry a woman who is of a titled family.”
He could not help but see the truth in her words. “There are no marriage plans,” he said with a laugh. “We are involved in business and nothing more, so there is no need to worry.”
“Yet, I assume you have imagined the two of you as more? Am I right in assuming as much?” Before he could respond, she added, “There is no harm in that, mind you, and I must admit that since you have been in her company, you seem much happier and easier to be near.”
Lucas raised his glass with a laugh. “What you say is true. I am amazed by her spirit and intrigued by her determination. I worry nothing about her intentions, for I believe them to be honorable.”
“I worry about the rumors I have heard concerning her,” Ingrid said. “Are you perhaps but another part of her scheme?”
“Scheme?” Lucas asked. “And what rumors? I have heard nothing concerning this woman.”
Ingrid sighed. “Have you not heard that she has been to the home of Lord Miggs? It is said that she went to dine with him just last week.”
His heart sank. It could not be true, could it? He had thought Miss Barrington attracted to him, but if she had her eye set on Lord Miggs, where did that leave him? Yet, if she was indeed in search of financial gain, would she not turn to a duke? Was she entertaining the baron in case Lucas did not come through for her? Of course, none of these questions made sense.
“I see by your expression you had not heard this rumor,” Ingrid said with a sad smile. “She is poor, and her father’s business is in ruins. From what I have heard, her father has not been seen in nearly a year.”
Lucas nodded. “That much is true. She shared with me that her father has been busy attempting to secure more business for them out of London, although without much success.”
“All the more reason to keep up your guard.”
Lucas refused to believe such things of the kind woman who was helping him learn to control his temper. “Maybe she is conducting business with the baron, as well,” he argued. “In fact, I can see no other way. She is much younger than he.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Ingrid replied with a shrug. Then she gave him a smile. “I do not say these things to cast the woman to the street. I just ask that you be careful, for you are young, handsome, and wealthy. You are a prize for any woman, even one such as myself.” Her smile was mischievous, and he could not help but feel the regret for his previous behavior return.
“Again, I am sorry for my accusation.”
She laughed. “Think no more of it,” she said. “Now, I do have some news that may disappoint you.”
“Oh?”
“Lord Tritant has requested I attend the party Lord Gates will be giving at the end of the month.” She placed a hand on Lucas’s arm. “Now, I realize you already asked me, but would you be terribly hurt if I accepted Lord Tritant’s invitation? I told him I would have to think about it before I came to a decision, but the truth of the matter is I wanted to be certain you would not mind.”
“I see where this is going,” Lucas said in mock suspicion. “You are requesting that I allow you to throw yourself into the arms of another.” This brought on a bout of laughter, and when it ended, he added, “Of course, I relieve you of your promise to accompany me.”
“You will still
attend, will you not?” she asked, her concern clear on her face. “Please do not remain home on my account.”
“Worry not, for I will attend. I promise. It will be good for me.”
With relief, she moved the conversation to other matters, but Lucas considered the upcoming party. It was still two weeks away, and although Ingrid had warned him about Miss Barrington, he considered asking her if she would like to accompany him. The truth of the matter was he could no longer deny the feelings he had for her. She was the light he needed to push away the darkness he had inside him. In his heart, he knew they were meant to be together, and he would find a way to see that happened—the ton and their opinions on the matter be damned.
***
For the first time in his life, Lucas realized how empty Bonehedge Estate truly was. The guest rooms stood empty, the dining room was always quiet. The only sounds came from the servants as they went about their duties. However, the house could be filled. Filled with the laughter of Miss Barrington. Filled with her sweet voice driving away the storms in his life.
He pushed away his dinner plate, the outside storm that had arrived the day before increasing in intensity. He had overheard several of the servants whisper amongst themselves about bad omens, but he dismissed such senselessness. Omens were for those less educated, and he would not allow himself to fall into the trap of believing such drivel.
As he exited the dining room, he turned a corner and almost ran straight into Louise. The maid gasped, her eyes widening in fright before she moved her gaze to the folded sheets piled high in her arms. “I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she whimpered. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Images of the tongue-lashing he had dealt to this woman several weeks before rushed into his mind, and he could not help but feel sorry for the woman. She had always been a hard worker, and his treatment of her had been unfair. He would speak to Mrs. Flossum; there was no need for him to be involved with disciplining the maids any longer. That was the job of the housekeeper, and she was a strict, if not fair, woman he could trust.
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