“Louise,” he said.
The woman looked up, and he could see the fear in her eyes. “Yes, Your Grace?” she replied in a shaky voice.
“Have I ever told you how much you are appreciated here?” She shook her head fearfully. “Then allow me to say so now. Since I was a child, you did your part to keep this home well-maintained, and I want to thank you for that.”
Her eyes widened further before a smile broke out on her lips. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said, the fear now gone. “That means a lot that you’d say so.”
“I am sorry,” he said, and then remembered Emma’s counsel, “for shouting at you before. I hope you can forgive me.”
“I-I am but a servant in your house, not worthy of your apology.”
Although her humbleness was great, it did not sit well with him. “You are mistaken, for even a duke who calls the sound of thunder must control the ability to call down lightning.”
When her smile widened, he was shocked when that same warmth he had felt after apologizing to Ingrid filled him. What a wondrous feeling this was!
“Then I hold no grudge against you,” the maid said and then quickly added, “not that I would’ve anyway, Your Grace.” She bobbed a curtsy and moved to return to her duties, but Lucas called her back.
“One more thing. I shall increase your pay. Not as payment for the tone I used with you but rather in appreciation for your dedication to this household.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” the woman said before hurrying away.
The relief that washed over him was like nothing he had ever felt in his life. The ability to seek forgiveness and receive it was new. And wonderful! How had it taken him so long to learn it?
As he entered the library, he picked up a candle holder and walked over to the single painting that hung from the wall over the mantle. His father gazed down at him, and for the first time, Lucas noticed the tiny frown that played at his father’s lips. He studied that painting for some time as his mind wandered to the past.
How cruel his father had been to him, scolding him for every infraction. No matter what he did, Lucas could never please the man. And as if a story unfolded before him, Lucas realized the true root of his anger. The hurt caused by his father had made him turn and lash out at those around him. It was a vicious cycle he now understood and, more importantly, would seek to end.
“You taught me much, Father,” he whispered to the portrait, “yet you never understood the joy of forgiving another person. Or in listening to their tales.” He sighed. “This lesson was taught to me by a woman who is not even of the gentry. A woman whose dreams are held together not by stitching but by hope.” He could not stop his heart from swelling as he spoke of Miss Barrington. “I believe I might be in love with her.”
The frown on the portrait seemed to indicate what his father thought about the matter. Perhaps the man was correct; how could Lucas consider such a strong emotion for a woman he had only known for a short time? Yet, he could not shake it any more than he could have stopped the sun from rising on the eastern horizon. “Matters of the heart do not need your approval, nor that of Mother. The only opinions that matter are those of myself and Miss Barrington. I will seek only her approval; the rest do not matter.”
As a sense of peace washed over him, Lucas turned to leave. He stopped and looked back at the portrait one more time. “You should smile more often,” he told the painting. “Trust me, it does wonders for one’s outlook on life.”
Chapter Fourteen
Emma recorded the final sum in the account ledger and pushed it aside. She had not been as occupied as she had led the duke to believe, but more work had come thanks to Stephen’s diligence. She had never been prouder of the man, and today he agreed to travel two towns over in an attempt to secure more work. He was a quick learner, and although his reading and writing still left much to be desired, he knew the correct terms to use to convince prospective clients he knew the business.
Her eyes fell to the next ledger, which belonged to Lord Miggs. Her stomach knotted as she thought on the arrangement she had made with him. Not only did she promise to dine with the man, but he would also escort her to the party given by Lord and Lady Gates. Oh, how she regretted making such a commitment! Spending time with the man was a chore in itself, and just the thought of it made her skin prickle. Granted, the man had never made any attempt to put his hands on her, but she had seen that same look in his eyes as she had seen in the eyes of others. Lust. A stark contrast to what she saw when she looked into the duke’s eyes.
Sighing, she leaned back in the chair. She was wasting her time thinking about a man who was well out of reach, but she found she could not erase him from her mind. He had apologized for losing his temper with her. The fact he had listened to her advice was astounding, yet that was not the only thing that kept him in her thoughts. The storm calming in his eyes had called to her heart, and her heart had wished to be in his arms.
“Stop!” she said aloud. The man had a woman in his life. If she was to be any part of a man’s life, she would not be his mistress! And no duke would marry a common woman such as herself.
“Then why does he invite me to dinner?” she asked the room. It was a riddle she had spent many hours reasoning out and still could not. Was it his plan to seduce her with fine drink? Perhaps he would begin to offer her jewelry. A flat. Fine clothes.
No. Although she knew it was possible, for anything was possible, but she did not believe he would do such a thing. She could see the goodness in him.
Perhaps it was his ego, having a woman to speak to when the duchess was not there. The guise of needing her there to work his books had long since passed. Yet, how strange it had been that he asked her to help him with his temper. However, she had done so to the best of her ability. Had she not given her word to do what she could to help?
Yet, doubt lingered. Perhaps the man was a rogue instead. She compared him to Lord Miggs for a moment. No, the two men were exact opposites one from the other. The eyes of the baron showed lust where those of the duke showed…something else she had yet to determine. Something good.
“It is because you have feelings for him,” she whispered and then clamped her mouth shut. She scolded herself for thinking such a thing. However, as much as she tried to deny it, feelings for him did reside inside her. They were small, yet she could not deny they were growing. How could they not when she spent time with the man strolling like a couple in love?
An image of Lady Babbitt popped into her mind once more. Although the woman seemed rude, or so Emma gathered from the short time she had been in her presence, she did not seem a lady who enjoyed sharing a man. This made Emma laugh. Did any woman enjoy sharing the man she loved? She doubted it rather highly.
Something had to be done about the duke. Although she enjoyed helping him and being in his company…I definitely enjoy being in his company, she thought with a smile. However, she had to dissolve this particular part of their agreement. She would continue to do his bookkeeping, but that work would have to be completed here in the office. She had to stay away from his home at all costs. A woman could find herself in all sorts of trouble being alone with him there.
The door opened, and Emma gaped as the duke entered. His smile was radiant, and his eyes sparkled. His long hair was neatly tied back with a blue ribbon that matched his coat. She found breathing difficult as she stared at him. There was no denying it; she had feelings for him, an affection that would only lead to destruction and heartbreak if she did not put a stop to it, and soon.
“Miss Barrington,” he said as he walked over to the desk. “I am glad you are here.” He glanced at the ledgers. “I am not interrupting your work, am I?”
Emma could not help but notice the kindness in his tone, and without thinking, she responded “Not at all” before she could stop herself. Then she groaned inwardly. She was meant to break the ties that bound her to him! Foolish girl!
“Excellent,” he replied. Then he paused before
adding, “The storm outside has cleared, bringing about sunshine.”
Emma walked over to the window. Good, they were discussing the weather. That was a safe topic of discussion with anyone. “Yes. Two days of sun. We are fortunate.”
“We are.”
An awkward silence followed, as if neither knew what to say, and Emma felt that tightness in her stomach once again. It was torment being in his presence and feeling as she did. What she needed was to keep away from him.
“I must apologize, but I have work to complete,” she said as she went to move past him to return to the chair behind her father’s desk.
He placed a hand on her arm. “I must share something with you. A celebration of sorts. It is imperative I speak with you. But not here; some place private.”
Emma glanced at the ledgers and receipts piled upon her desk. “I…my work…” She found the excuse on her tongue weak.
“An hour?” he pleaded. “Please, I will pay you for your time if need be. It is important.” The sorrow, the need in his eyes stayed the protest.
“There is no need to pay me every time you speak with me,” she said. “However, I suppose I could use a short break.”
He released her arm and grinned. “I took your advice concerning apologies, and I was able to mend broken relationships. Come, let me tell you more about it.”
She should have been happy he was able to mend his relationship with the women for whom he cared, but she found doing so difficult. In her heart, she knew it was selfish to feel regret, so she took her own advice and forced a smile as she placed a cloak over her shoulders and tied the ribbon of her bonnet before following him out of the office. “I am glad,” she lied. Well, it was only a half-lie, for she was happy he was able to take the steps he needed to better his life.
“I wish to tell you all about it,” he said as he waited for her to lock the door to the office, although she had no idea why they could not speak there. When she turned, her concern grew when she noticed the looks of disapproval from those walking past.
The duke opened the door to a carriage, and she glanced around once more. “I am sorry, Your Grace,” she said, “but where are we going?”
“You will see,” he said, offering her his hand to help her enter the carriage.
“But the people…” she said, looking around them again.
“What of them?”
“They will speak ill of you inviting a woman such as myself to ride with you in your carriage. You may throw me out if you must. Tell them I am your servant.”
He laughed. “I would never do such a thing. And yes, I am breaking societal rules at the moment. The same people speak ill of me regardless of what I do. I care nothing for their whispers and gossip.”
Emma sank back into the cushions, feeling defeated, as the vehicle picked up speed. There was no escaping the situation. Nor the smile that drew her in.
***
During the journey, they discussed the weather and business, but the subject of Lady Babbitt did not arise. Did he mean to take Emma to the woman? To flaunt the woman in front of her? Perhaps he meant to parade the love he had for Lady Babbitt in front of Emma to cause her to break down and cry. He had been cruel when he was angry; maybe she had misread his eyes and he was cruel always.
“Miss Barrington?” the duke asked, bringing her back from her silly thoughts. “Is everything all right?”
She went to nod, but when she glanced out the window, her heart froze. She had not paid attention to which direction they had gone, and now they were outside a familiar church. The grounds were meticulously kept, and large trees protected the dark-gray building from the elements.
“You look as if you have seen an apparition.”
“No,” Emma said in a choked voice. Did he know? How had he learned her secret? She had kept it safe from everyone bar Stephen. Did the duke bring her here in order to torment her? To show her he learned the truth? She would be ruined and forced to beg in the streets if that were the case.
“Shall we step out?” he asked, motioning to the open door.
Emma nodded, fear guiding her steps as she exited the vehicle. Although the storm had ended two days earlier, the wind that remained had a coolness to it.
The duke spoke to the driver before turning and offering Emma his arm. She took it with reluctance and followed him down the path.
“First,” he said, “I appreciate you taking time from your busy schedule to meet with me.”
“You are welcome,” Emma managed to say, although she feared she would begin weeping if she did not get away soon. “May I ask why we are here?”
They walked around the side of the church and stopped beneath one of the great trees. Emma glanced around. For whom, or what, were they waiting?
“Lady Babbitt?” she asked.
“Yes?” Lucas replied with a scrunch of his brow. “What of her?”
“I do not see her.”
He laughed. “That is because she is not here. I took your advice and spoke with her.”
Emma was more confused than before. Nothing was making sense. “That is good,” she mumbled. When he took her hands, she trembled. Although she enjoyed the feeling, she knew it was wrong. To be so intimate in such a sacred place was beneath any man, but more so when the man was a duke who had his eyes set on a viscountess.
“I explained to her what you have been teaching me,” he said.
Emma nodded. What was the point of them coming here? The confusion became too great and the first tear rolled down her cheek before she could stop it.
“What is wrong? Have I somehow upset you?”
“I am happy for you,” she whispered. “For both of you.”
He stared at her, his face pinched in confusion. “Are you certain I have not upset you?”
“No, please, go on.”
“Very well. I spoke to her just as you suggested, and she forgave me for my outburst! Is that not wonderful? And to think I lost my temper with her, and yet she continues to stand by me.” He shook his head in disbelief.
“That is wonderful,” Emma said. What she wished they could do was leave this place. Being so close to him with her traitorous feelings was difficult enough when they were not standing in front of a church.
“Yet it did not end there,” he continued, clearly beside himself with excitement. “Louise, a woman who has been a maid in my home for many years and has never even asked for a day to herself? Well, not long ago, I had treated her badly, and I even apologized to her! I feel as if I am a whole new man!”
Although Emma was glad for him, she thought her heart would break. She did not want to be here—with this man, at this church—and panic threatened to choke the breath out of her. However, how could she not allow him to express his joy for what he had done? Therefore, she swallowed the panic and turned her attention back to the duke.
“The greatest part of this story?” he said, his eyes gleaming. “I went to the library where my father’s portrait hangs, and there I realized something. I brought you here because this is the place of the first memory of my father scolding me. I had been playing under this very tree at the time.”
A sense of relief washed over Emma. He was not here to call her out, to demand the truth. He was here to put behind him issues that had plagued him for years. “I am sorry to hear this,” she said.
“But do you not see? I was hurt by his words, and in turn, I did the same to others. That was the realization to which I came! My anger over the years became so fierce that I called down lightning—using the words others have attributed to me—upon those who I felt wronged me. Even for the smallest infraction.” He looked down at her and smiled. “Until I met you.”
An uneasiness crept over her. “Your Grace,” she began. She needed to stop him before they both made a grave mistake.
“Please, we are friends. Call me Lucas.”
She stared at him for a moment. To call this man, a duke, by his Christian name was outrageous. However, could she not do as h
e requested, especially a request as simple as this? “Very well,” she agreed. “Lucas.” It was easier to say than she had expected. “You seem to misunderstand something very important. I did nothing for you. The answers were inside you all along, and you found them. That was all you.”
He chuckled. “You are too kind,” he said. “However, it was you. The very woman I threw out of my office and who came charging back in. That woman of strength, honesty, and integrity. A woman I admire greatly.”
“I-I do not understand. I am none of those things.” When he went to argue, she forestalled him. It was time to put an end to this charade. She had to sever the cord, as they say, for what they had would only be made into a mockery if his peers learned of it. Not to mention the blight it would put on her father’s business. “Although I enjoy being in your company, I cannot do so any longer.”
“But why?” he asked. “Have I hurt you in some way? I will make right whatever it is that I have done.”
He took her hands in his once again, but Emma pulled them away. “Please stop!” she cried. “This is not fair to Lady Babbitt!”
“Ingrid?”
“Yes. Your love.”
He stared at her for a few moments before throwing his head back and laughing.
“Do you not respect her?” Emma demanded.
“Of course I respect her. You seem to mistake our relationship.” He continued to chuckle as if it was all a great joke. “She is my friend and nothing more. You believed us to be courting? We are business partners, yes, and have been friends for many years, but I can assure you, we share nothing more.”
Can it be true? she wondered. “There is something I am struggling to understand,” she said aloud. “At your home, she spoke of me being a servant because of the way I was dressed. I thought she was jealous.”
Lucas chuckled again. “When it comes to Ingrid, one never knows. She may have been jealous, but of you as a woman of beauty and strength. She worries for me, something I am learning friends do often. So, yes, she cares for me, but not in the way you believe.”
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