The Shy Duchess

by Amanda McCabe

  Jane gave a delicate cough, and Emily suddenly recalled that she was not, in fact, alone at the park with the duke. “Your Grace, I believe you know my friends, Miss Thornton and Mr Rayburn?”

  “Of course I do. How do you do, Miss Thornton, Mr Rayburn?” he said.

  “Very well indeed, your Grace,” Jane said cheerfully. “We were just going for a stroll. Perhaps you would care to join us?”

  Emily shot Jane a hard glance, but Jane blithely ignored her. What if she said something foolish to him as he walked right beside her, or, heaven forbid, tripped and fell again?

  “I would be happy to join you,” he said. “If you are sure I would not be intruding on your confidences?”

  “The path is rather narrow for four, your Grace,” Mr Rayburn said in a hard voice.

  Jane tugged sharply at his arm. “Nonsense! Every party is merrier with more, and there is plenty of room near the river. You and I shall just walk ahead, Mr Rayburn, and his Grace can walk with Lady Emily.”

  “Thank you for the invitation,” the duke said. He dismounted and handed the reins over to his groom before offering Emily his arm. Jane had already fulfilled her promise—or threat—and led Mr Rayburn ahead. She tossed a triumphant smile back over her shoulder at Emily.

  Emily had no choice. She slid her gloved fingers into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to walk beside her along the path. The other strollers watched them avidly as they went by, but she tried her hardest to ignore them. She watched the path under her feet, wary of every possible obstacle waiting to trip her.

  The gossip she would just have to worry about later.

  “I hope I am not interrupting important confidences between you and your friends, Lady Emily,” he said quietly.

  She glanced up at him, then wished she had not. His eyes really were terribly, terribly blue. “No, of course not, your Grace. Miss Thornton and I were able to confide on the way here. And Mr Rayburn is—well, he is not that sort of friend.”

  “Perhaps he is more of a suitor than a friend?” he said teasingly.

  But Emily was not accustomed to being teased. She felt that blush flame even hotter. “I—no, of course not. I just—I… No.”

  “Forgive me, Lady Emily. I am so used to teasing my sisters and cousins about their admirers I sometimes forget how to behave in polite society.”

  His family—of course. What a prig he must think her after them. “Mr Rayburn does not admire me, your Grace.”

  “Does he not? Very foolish of him, I would say.”

  “I…” She hardly knew how to answer that. She could scarcely say she actually had no admirers to be teased about, by him or anyone! “How is your family, your Grace? I have not seen any of them since that house party at Welbourne Manor last summer.”

  “All disgustingly healthy, thank you. My sister Charlotte is expecting her first child very soon.”

  “Indeed?” Emily was astonished. She remembered Charlotte Fitzmanning, with her wild hair and untidy gowns, always with a pack of pug dogs at her heels. Emily knew she had married Andrew Bassington soon after that party, of course—and now she was to be a mother. She would have her very own family. Emily couldn’t help but envy her for that.

  “You must send her my best wishes, your Grace,” she said. “Are you hoping for a niece or a nephew?”

  “Either, as long as the child—and my sister—are healthy.” He glanced towards the sun-dappled, blue-green river, where children sailed their toy boats and laughed in innocent delight. A shadow seemed to pass over his eyes, and he frowned.

  “I am sure they will both be quite safe,” Emily said softly. “Your sister did seem to have a most robust constitution.”

  That strange shadow lifted from his face, and he laughed. “That she does. I already have one niece, little Katherine, my sister Justine’s child. I am sure she would like a little girl for her playmate.”

  “I should like to have a niece, too,” she said. She gestured toward a pretty, tiny redhead toddling by the water’s edge as her nurse flirted with a footman nearby. The child waved her hands and laughed in sheer pleasure. “Perhaps one like that girl?”

  “A fine choice, Lady Emily.” He led her again along the path, closer to the river. “I do hope you are quite well after the ball? That fall you took…”

  A group of children ran across the path in front of them, distracting her and making her laugh. “It was nothing at all, your Grace. I fear it could have been worse, though, if you had not been there to assist me.”

  “That is my task at balls, to rescue fair maidens.”

  “You should not let that be known widely, then, or ladies would be fainting at your feet in droves in hopes of rescue.”

  He gave a startled laugh. “Why, Lady Emily! Was that a joke?”

  Emily thought about it for a moment. “I think it might have been.”

  “A joke with an unfortunate grain of truth, I fear.”

  “You probably don’t need to worry, your Grace. Most society ladies are not so clumsy as I am and could not fall if they tried.”

  “I am glad to hear it. I can’t spend all my time saving fainting ladies. But I can’t believe anyone could ever call you clumsy, Lady Emily.”

  “Oh, they could,” she said with a sigh. “And I think—”

  From the corner of her eye, Emily caught a glimpse of flashing movement, dark and strange in the bright day. She spun around, and to her horror saw a runaway curricle barrelling down the roadway—and straight toward the red-haired child. The driver, a terrified-looking young man, had lost the reins. Pedestrians dived out of its wild path, shrieking, but the little girl was terribly oblivious.

  “No!” Emily screamed. She ran towards the child, but her skirt hem wrapped around her ankles and tripped her.

  The duke had no such constraints. He dashed past Emily, swift on his long, powerful legs, and dived for the child as the carriage crashed ever nearer. Everyone else ran the other way, but not him. He took a diving leap for the girl and caught her up in his arms a split second before the curricle would have run over her.

  His momentum carried them both over the embankment and straight into the placid waters of the river.

  Terrified, Emily lifted her wretched hems and dashed towards the river, along with everyone else. The carriage had finally ground to a halt some distance away, but she didn’t notice. All she could see were the waves washing over the spot where he had disappeared.

  The duke leaped up, the girl held tightly against him. They were both completely soaked, but the child laughed delightedly in his arms as Nicholas sputtered for breath. A clump of weeds clung to his wet hair, now more green than gold with sludge.

  To Emily, though, he did not look so very comical.

  “Kitty!” a nursemaid shrieked as she ran past Emily, that flirtation with the footman forgotten. “Oh, is she hurt? Is she?”

  The duke spat out a mouthful of water, wading towards shore. “I don’t think so, miss,” he said. “Though she is making a deuced lot of noise.”

  He slowly climbed up the embankment, the child clinging to his neck as she chortled with sheer joy. His fine clothes were utterly ruined, but he didn’t seem to notice. He carefully handed the girl to her nurse.

  “Keep a closer eye on her, yes?” he said hoarsely.

  “Oh, yes, sir! Of course,” the maid cried. “Thank you so much, how can I thank you? I turned my back for one moment and—”

  “One moment is all it takes, I fear,” he said. He sat down heavily on the grass, his head in his hands as the maid carried the child away and the crowd slowly dispersed as the drama seemed over. “One moment and they’re gone.”

  “Oh, your Grace,” Emily said. She knelt beside him, only to find she trembled violently. How close that poor child had come to disaster! If not for him, the duke… “Are you hurt at all?”

  He shook his head, and he trembled, too. “Of course not, Lady Emily. I’ve been dunked in far worse.” He slowly lowered his hands, and she saw that h
is face was a bit pale, but completely expressionless. He took off his boots, one after the other, and emptied out the water. He removed his coat and wrung out the sleeves.

  “I did not think they would start so young,” he muttered.

  “Your Grace?” Emily said, bewildered. Had he hit his head on the embankment? What was he talking about?

  “Seeking rescue,” he said. “You did warn me.”

  She laughed. “Indeed. But I fear you will be the one in need of rescue if you don’t get home and into some dry clothes as soon as possible.”

  “I am fine, Lady Emily. We should find your friends first.”

  Of course! She had completely forgotten about them, about everyone. Emily glanced up to find Jane hurrying towards them, her eyes bright with excitement. Mr Rayburn followed, looking considerably put out by the whole scene.

  “No need, for here they are already,” she said.

  “Oh, your Grace! That was utterly amazing,” Jane cried. “So very heroic.”

  “Not heroic at all, Miss Thornton,” he answered as he rose to his feet and held out his hand to help Emily. “I merely acted out of instinct, as anyone would.”

  Yet no one else had acted at all, Emily thought. Only him. Would she now have to revise her opinion of him as merely a pleasure-seeking, shallow duke? That would be most inconvenient.

  “I heard you were at the park today, Em, when the Duke of Manning performed a most daring rescue.”

  Emily looked up from her book as her brother bounded into the drawing room. “So I was, Rob, along with half of London.”

  Her mother turned eagerly from her embroidery. “The Duke of Manning? And you were there, Emily? Why did you not say something!”

  Because Emily did not know what to say. She knew her mother would become terribly excited at the knowledge she had even seen the duke today. Her mother would be sure to blow the whole incident entirely out of proportion and make it all something it was not. Emily was just too tired for all that right now, and much too confused.

  And she also just wanted to keep what she had seen to herself for a while, to try to decipher what it all meant. She couldn’t do that with her family chattering on about it all, as they had a tendency to do. Yet it seemed keeping quiet was no longer an option.

  “Emily!” her mother said. “Did you hear me? Why did you not tell me you saw the Duke of Manning at the park? Did he speak to you?”

  Emily carefully closed her book. “I suppose it all just slipped my mind.”

  “Slipped your mind?” her mother cried.

  “You are a strange girl indeed, Sister,” Rob said. He leaned over her chair to examine her book, his light brown hair flopping over his brow. He didn’t look quite like an important up-and-coming politician when he did that, she thought, but like the brother of her youth. “I’m sure anyone else would definitely remember seeing the duke rescue a child from a runaway carriage. And then walking away on his arm when it was all over.”

  “What!” Emily’s mother screamed. She tossed her sewing on to the floor. “Emily, you will tell me everything this moment.”

  “It did not happen quite like that,” Emily protested. “And how do you know of it, Rob?”

  “Amy saw Jane Thornton’s sister at the milliner. But it doesn’t matter how I know. Everyone in town knows by now. Nothing so dashing has happened at the park in ages.” Rob tugged at one of her curls. “They say you wept and mopped at his sweated brow.”

  “He was too wet from falling in the river to sweat,” Emily muttered. “And I did not weep. Though I was naturally frightened for the poor child.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sorry for her—she’s Lord and Lady Hampton’s brat. It seems they’re proclaiming Manning the great hero of the age.”

  “Already?” said Emily. “And how do you know that?”

  “Amy saw Lady Hampton’s aunt on the way home from the milliner’s. Amy is amazing at discovering information,” Rob said admiringly.

  “You mean she is a great gossip,” said Emily.

  “Whatever you call it, Sister, it’s immensely useful and one of the many reasons I married her. It would do you good to talk to people yourself more often.”

  “Enough of this arguing, you two!” their mother cried. “Emily, tell me what happened immediately.”

  Emily quickly related the tale of the child’s rescue—a short version of it, anyway—leaving out most of her own involvement and all her emotions. Even that abbreviated account had her mother sighing.

  “What a heroic tale!” she said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “How proud our old friend, the late duke, would be. And to think you were there, Emily!”

  “So was everyone else, Mama,” Emily protested again.

  “But no one else went to his assistance, only you, my dear. And now your name is linked with his.”

  “Well done, Em,” Rob said.

  “I did nothing at all! He scarcely even noticed me,” Emily said, to no avail.

  “Perhaps we should allow you to go to Vauxhall with Miss Thornton and her sister after all,” her mother said. “I wasn’t sure about the outing at first, but such a good deed deserves a reward. And there can be no harm if you are with respectable friends.”

  “Really? You are allowing me to go to Vauxhall?” Emily said, astonished. Her mother had hesitated when Emily first relayed Jane’s invitation, but now she seemed quite happy to allow it.

  “Of course, my dear. The duke might be there, after all. You must see what you can make of it.”

  Emily departed the drawing room soon after, leaving her mother and brother to their happy conversation of the doings in the park and what it might mean. They seemed to think it meant the duke had noticed Emily at last, or some such nonsense.

  Once she was safe in the silence of her own chamber, she locked the door and went to stare out the window at the gathering evening. Her room looked down on their tiny back garden and the mews behind. All was quiet now, as everyone was at home preparing for their nights, their parties and dinners and theatre outings. The sky was the palest of pinks, shading slowly into grey.

  What was he doing tonight? she wondered. Was he getting ready to go out and enjoy his hero-dom? She hoped he was staying home to rest by a warm fire, as he would surely catch a chill after his—what did he call it? His dunking?

  She had a sudden vision of the duke, Nicholas, by his fire, cosy with books and supper on a tray. That was her favourite sort of evening. What if she was there, too? What if she could sit by him as they toasted cheese in the fire and laughed about the follies of gossip? He would reach for her hand and…

  “No!” she said aloud, and laughed at her fancies. He did not seem a man to relish a quiet evening at home. Dukes were very busy and always sought after, even ones who weren’t the hero of the day. His family seemed to love parties above all else, dancing and music and jokes.

  And yet—yet she had glimpsed something different in him today, ever so briefly. She had known he was brave, of course, always riding hell for leather and racing carriages at Welbourne Manor, swimming in the lake there, climbing the hills. Dancing all night. But today’s bravery was of another sort. He had put himself in danger to save a child, a person unknown to him, without an instant’s hesitation while everyone else fled or froze in horror. As she had.

  Only after did he seem at all shaken, as if the true danger to that little girl had only just come to him. And that girl had been most reluctant to part with her rescuer—as all ladies seemed to be with him.

  Emily bit at the edge of her thumbnail as she watched the sky slide into indigo twilight. Teaching at Mrs Goddard’s meant that not only did she teach the women writing and French, they taught her things as well. They were careful never to tell lurid tales in her hearing, but she did hear some things. She heard stories of how men, especially wealthy and titled men, were not to be trusted. They used people, particularly women, for selfish ends and discarded them without a care. That was why she worked at Mrs Goddard’s, t
o help women recover from such terrible experiences. She wanted to help however she could.

  The Duke of Manning was about as wealthy and titled as a man could be, and he was the son of a famous libertine, a man who had abandoned his wife, the mother of his heir, and married his mistress as soon as that poor wife died. Yet today Emily had seen not a shred of selfishness or carelessness.

  Was it only the rush of the moment that made him act thus? Perhaps tomorrow he would go back to the careless, scandalous ways of the Mannings. Or maybe—maybe that was simply how he really was, deep inside.

  Emily was very confused, and she did not like that feeling at all. Maybe her mother was right, and the duke would be at Vauxhall for the masked ball. If she met him in disguise, not as Lady Emily Carroll, perhaps she could glimpse that true self, not just the face he showed society.

  It seemed a harebrained scheme at best, but for now it was all she had.

  Chapter Five

  “You’ve been very quiet all day, Nick. Is something amiss?”

  “What did you say, Stephen?” Nicholas said. He tore his gaze from the night-dark streets flashing past the carriage window and glanced over at his brother. Stephen was running one of his many ‘lucky charms’ between his fingers, back and forth, and that was seldom a good sign. But maybe Nicholas should find some kind of charm as well. It seemed he needed one.

  “I said you are being strangely quiet, which is not like you. Usually no one can get you to shut up.”

  Nicholas threw his black satin mask at his brother’s head. Stephen batted it away, laughing, but in the process dropped his charm. Nicholas scooped it up and held it to the moonlight. It was a tiny gold horseshoe, as bright as Emily Carroll’s hair. “I have a great deal to think about, you know.”

  “Ducal things, I suppose?”

  “Indeed. And if you’re going to twit me about my work, I’d just like to see you take it on. You’re the heir, anyway. You be the duke, and I’ll go off and live on a sunny island somewhere, with no estates to run and no siblings to corral.”