“It must be terribly tiring to always be concerned with what people think of you,” she mocked, feeling peevish.
“It is,” he answered, his tone flat and lacking any hint of emotion. His hand over hers tensed, however, and she could feel his fingers twitch, as if he was struggling to hold himself together. Or perhaps she just wanted to perceive that it bothered him because it would bother her.
“Here we go,” he said, drawing her attention to the dining room.
Her mother glowered at her from the table, and Emma turned her gaze and feigned intense interest in the seating arrangements. There were two empty seats side by side across from the Duke of Danby and the duchess, and her name was clearly written on one of the cards in front of the seats. Of course, the seat at the head of the table, the Duke of Blackbourne’s, was unoccupied. Emma let out a relieved breath knowing that she would not have to endure her mother at dinner.
Beside her, the duke let out a surprising chuckle. Did he know her thoughts? She glanced at him, and when their gazes met, she read understanding there. She bit her lip. The man was indeed a puzzle.
Emma settled in her seat with Nathan on one side of her and a lovely, dark-haired woman on the other. Nathan leaned forward, his elbow brushing Emma’s. “This is my cousin’s wife, Lady Edgeworth.” He leaned back in his chair, and Lady Francine, who was on his other side, said something to him. He turned his head to speak to her. A spark of disappointment filled Emma. Would she not get a chance to speak much to Nathan tonight?
Emma’s attention was turned back to Lady Edgeworth when the woman set a hand on Emma’s arm. “Don’t you dare call me Lady Edgeworth. Please call me Lillian.”
“I couldn’t,” Emma responded, aware her mother was watching her.
The woman flicked her gaze to Emma’s mother, then back to Emma. “I insist you do, and you may tell your mother I said so. All the rules and formalities of the ton are so foreign to me still, and I’ve not been able to bring myself to abide by them when I sense a kindred soul.”
“Me?” Emma pressed her hand to her chest. “But you don’t even know me.”
Lillian offered a kind yet mischievous smile. “I know a little of you,” she replied as she leaned back to allow the first course to be set in front of her.
Emma did the same, though she kept her gaze on the woman, very curious as to what she knew.
Lillian picked up her spoon, took a taste, and then looked back to Emma. “I was on the ice the day you almost drowned.” Emma groaned, and the woman chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ve heard nary a word of it since a day or two after it happened, which was very surprising. I was sure it was going to create quite a scandal and was awfully worried for you and Nathaniel.”
“Worried? But why?”
“I feared you were going to be ruined, and then he’d have to marry you.”
Emma frowned. “And you do not think me worthy of him?”
“Oh! no!” The woman lowered her voice. “It isn’t that at all. I know enough of him from my husband to understand that Nathaniel is hardly ready for marriage.”
Emma glanced at Nathan to ensure he wasn’t listening. He was still engaged in conversation with Lady Francine, which was disappointing. If he was interested in Emma, she didn’t think he’s spend so much time engaged with Lady Francine. She faced Lillian once more. “Well, perhaps he is simply different from what everyone wishes him to be.” She thought of her mother and how clearly she wished Emma would change. “Mayhap the Duke of Blackbourne should quit trying to change his brother. I know personally what it’s like for someone to expect perfection from you, and for you to constantly fail him or her. His Grace should learn to be more human.”
“Oh, dear me,” Lillian murmured. “You don’t know the duke at all if you think he expects perfection from his brother. From what I have personally witnessed, Blackbourne simply wishes his brother to learn to take care of himself and to think of the repercussions of his actions before taking them.”
It was true enough that she didn’t know the duke. He was baffling to her. She slid her gaze to him and found him staring intently at her. A tingly jolt shot through her, and she sucked in a breath. Whatever was that about? She rubbed at her arms where gooseflesh now covered them and hastily turned back to Lillian, who was watching her with an odd, knowing look on her face.
“Sometimes,” Lillian said, “we don’t even truly know what’s best for us until it’s right before us, staring us in the face.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Emma got the strangest feeling that Lillian was trying to tell her to consider the duke, but that was preposterous. The Duke of Blackbourne had no interest in her, and he seemed to be exactly the sort of man she’d sworn never to marry. Rigid. Inflexible. Worshipful of decorum and all its endless rules. Of course, he had taken up for her and he had smoothed over Nathan’s blunder with her mother. And come to think of it, with the butler as well.
“Not yet, you don’t,” Lillian agreed.
Emma wanted to speak of something else, and though she was loath to dredge up her near-drowning, she could not think of a single other thing to talk about at the moment. “You said you were ice-skating the day I fell through the ice?”
Lillian nodded. “I was. I heard you scream, and then I saw Blackbourne race across the ice and rescue you.”
Emma froze. That could not be correct. She shook her head. “You’re mistaken. Lord Nathaniel rescued me.”
“Did I hear my name?” Nathan asked, leaning toward Emma and giving her a dazzling smile that elicited one from her in return.
“Lillian and I were speaking of the day on the Serpentine. She seems to think that your brother was the one who rescued me.”
Nathan frowned. “Nonsense.”
Emma agreed, but she’d never say so to Lillian. Even if Emma’s memory of the day had been wrong, which it wasn’t, two days later when she’d gone to the Duke of Blackbourne’s home to thank Nathan, the duke had the perfect opportunity to tell her he was her rescuer, yet he’d said no such thing. He had made it very clear he thought his brother to blame for her accident, but he’d not negated her belief that Nathan had been her savior. No, Lillian was wrong.
“Let’s not speak anymore of that day,” Nathan said, bring her ponderings to an abrupt halt. He leaned so near to her that she could see the gold flecks in his eyes, and her breath caught in her chest. “It makes me shudder to remember it,” he said. “I’m awfully sorry for my part. I’ve had nightmares that you drowned.” He ran a finger down her arm in a most intimate, most improper way. “I cannot think of a greater tragedy than not having the opportunity of becoming better acquainted with you.”
“Truly?” she squeaked as she sat back once again for the first course to be taken away and the second to be placed in front of her.
“Truly,” he replied, his voice husky, deep, and inviting. “I’d dearly enjoy getting to know you, Lady Emmaline.”
His arm came to rest on the back of her chair and pressed against her shoulders, and her toes curled in her slippers. It was utterly, utterly scandalous. Her mother would be livid if she saw, yet Emma did not think anyone could see that Nathan’s arm was touching her.
Suddenly, a spoon clanged against a glass, and Emma jerked her gaze to the head of the table where the Duke of Blackbourne was standing. “I’d like to toast my brother’s birthday. I’m so glad to be here with all of you to celebrate,” the duke said in a curt, irritable tone.
Emma almost snorted. Blackbourne hardly sounded or looked glad. In fact, as Emma raised her glass to toast Nathan, she studied the duke. He looked angry, and it appeared that his anger was directed at his brother. His cool gaze was locked on Nathan, and his mouth didn’t even hint at a smile.
Once the toast was over, Emma was forced into conversation with the Duke of Danby and the duchess, who fired questions at her so rapidly she could barely keep up.
“Do you like poetry, my dear?” the duchess asked in a rather loud voice.
“Excellent,” the duchess exclaimed. “Who is your favorite poet?”
“Oh, that’s easy. I adore Robert Burns,” she said. When the duchess glanced immediately toward the Duke of Blackbourne, so did Emma. He had an oddly intense look on his face as if he was thinking hard about something. Before Emma could consider it further, the Duke of Danby spoke, and she turned her attention to him.
“Do you like to dance, my dear?” he inquired.
“Immensely, Your Grace. But I daresay I am not the most graceful dancer.”
He nodded, as if pleased with her answer. “It’s good to know your weaknesses but not to let them hinder you. It shows you have strong character.”
“Thank you,” Emma immediately responded, thinking the conversation very strange.
“Do you ride?” the duchess asked.
“I do. Though I’m afraid I frequently get in trouble for riding too fast. My mother says it’s not ladylike, but it’s hard to repress the desire.”
The duchess smiled. “I’m sure your mother is simply worried for your safety. I often worry for Blackbourne when he races.”
Emma felt her lips part in shock. “His Grace races?” She was trying to imagine him being relaxed enough to race.
“Oh yes. He’s undefeated! In fact, I do believe he and Edgeworth have their annual race planned for tomorrow. They do it once a year, and the victor gives his winnings to his servants. It’s great fun. The entire household comes out. There’s a picnic first and then the race. Why, you should come! And your family, too, of course. It’s here on the land behind the house.”
Excitement bubbled in Emma. “Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll have to ask my mother, but I’m sure she’ll approve. Does Lord Nathaniel race, as well?”
Danby and the duchess exchanged a quick look before she responded. “Not in this race. It’s just between Blackbourne and Edgeworth.”
“Perhaps we can make an exception tomorrow,” Nathan said, suddenly inserting himself into the conversation. He gulped down the wine in his glass and waved a servant over for a refill. “It’s been years since I’ve had the pleasure of being trounced by my perfect brother.”
The last sentence came out as a snarl and made Emma frown. The animosity Nathan held toward his brother was apparent, but was it warranted?
“Nathaniel,” his mother said quietly, “not tonight. We have guests.”
He quaffed down the second glass of wine and smiled. “I’m sorry, Mother. Of course not. I’ll behave. I certainly don’t want to scare off our guests. Lucian would flay me if I ran off Lady Francine. And I most especially don’t want to frighten you, Lady Emmaline.”
He placed his hand over Emma’s, which she had rested in her lap. She startled, and her gaze flew to his. She knocked her knee against him to get him to move, and he grinned as he slid his hand away. The man truly was a rake! He didn’t even seem sorry to have made her uncomfortable. Why did he not seem as wonderful in real life as he had in her dreams?
“That’s enough, Nathaniel,” Danby ordered in a stern voice that left no room for argument.
A sullen look came to Nathan’s face, but he said no more. The rest of the meal passed in tense silence, and Emma couldn’t decide if she felt sorry for Nathan or irritated with him for acting so childish.
Five
Lucian caught Nathaniel by the elbow and pulled his brother away from the entrance that everyone else had already gone through. Lucian could feel his vein pulsing at his temple. “Unless you plan to marry Lady Emmaline, control yourself.”
“I haven’t a clue what you mean,” Nathaniel replied in an innocent voice, although his eyebrow rose in challenge.
Lucian had the sudden desire to literally knock some sense into his brother. Instead, he inhaled a long breath and uncurled his hands, which had tightened into fists. “The finger down her arm. Leaning so close you could smell her lavender scent. Your arm across the back of her chair, settled so it would rest on her shoulders.”
Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed. “Are you watching me or her?”
“You, of course. You’re my brother, and I’ve no wish to see you ruin her with your foolish behavior and then have to marry her.”
“Afraid I’ll ruin your plans to bind me to Lady Francine?” Nathaniel snarled.
Lucian clenched his teeth and had to force himself to relax. “No, Nathaniel. I’ve already said that if you don’t wish to marry Lady Francine, you can simply strike out on your own.”
“You want that, don’t you?” Nathaniel growled. “Then you’d not have to concern yourself with me anymore. Tired of playing my keeper?”
Lucian barely refrained from agreeing. Watching after Nathaniel had exhausted him years ago, but he’d continued both because of the promise he’d made their father and because Nathaniel was his brother. “I’m tired of watching you try to destroy yourself. You’re a better man than your actions show.”
“What if I’m not, Lucian?” Nathaniel demanded. “What if I’m exactly what you see? A selfish man who has no wish for anything beyond pleasure and fun?”
Lucian’s vein pulsed so rapidly he had to press a finger to his temple. “Then you most definitely need a wife like Lady Francine who’ll keep you from ruining yourself.”
“I don’t want to exchange one keeper for another, Luc, but since you’re forcing my hand, I plan to have fun first.”
Lucian had a sudden and very bad feeling. From within the parlor, a sweet singing voice floated out of the room. He glanced through the doorway. Lady Emmaline stood by Lady Francine, who was seated at the piano playing a tune.
“She’s beguiling, isn’t she?” Nathaniel murmured.
Lucian knew exactly who his brother was referring to, and it wasn’t Lady Francine. She was lovely enough, but she could have been any number of well-bred women of the ton. There was nothing intriguing about her. But Lady Emmaline…
Lucian barely knew her, but he couldn’t deny that there was something about her that was quite fascinating. Perhaps it was the way her blue eyes had sparked with anger and then contempt when he’d reminded Nathaniel that he knew better than to be alone and unchaperoned with her. He’d wager she had a spine of steel hidden in that slight body. Or maybe it was the memory of her, so proud and defiant when she’d come to thank Nathaniel for saving her life.
“Ah,” Nathaniel said, drawing the word out. “She’s beguiled you, too, I see. Well, I met her first.”
Lucian grabbed his brother by his jacket lapels. “Don’t toy with Lady Emmaline. She is an innocent, not one of your doxies skilled in games of seduction.”
Nathaniel yanked himself free. “How do you know if she’s an innocent or not? You don’t really know her!”
It was true. He didn’t. But the way she held herself so proudly bespoke of honor, of a woman who would not easily give her charms or innocence.
“If she wants a liaison as much as I do, then no one will be harmed,” Nathaniel asserted.
“And if she doesn’t?” Lucian growled, “You could very well ruin her with your attempts to learn if she does.”
“Then I’ll marry the chit and we’ll happily live in poverty after you disown me. I think she’d suit me. I wager she detests the cumbersome rules of Society as much as I do. Do you remember her spinning a few weeks ago? She was a vision.”
Lucian swallowed hard. Of course he remembered it. He’d dubbed her the snow fairy, hadn’t he? For one brief moment, when she’d come to his Mayfair home, he’d thought she’d come to seek him out to thank him. He’d been oddly pleased she had foolishly risked her reputation to see him, but then he’d learned she was there to thank Nathaniel. Lucian hadn’t had the heart to break hers by revealing Nathaniel hadn’t been the one to save her. Instead, he’d sent her away, irritated with himself for how odd she had made him feela—almost vulnerable and unthinking. Dukes should never be either of those things.
Their mother suddenly popped out into the corridor. “Gentlemen,” she c
hided, “we have guests waiting. Come.”
With little choice, Lucian nodded, but as he followed his mother and Nathaniel into the room, he vowed to do whatever he had to in order to stop his brother from ruining Lady Emmaline.
“Emmaline,” her mother hissed in her ear as the Duke of Blackbourne and Nathan strolled into the room. “Go sit down and let your sister sing now that His Grace is here.”
Emma nodded, more than glad to oblige. She wanted a chance to speak more with Nathan, and the way he was staring at her, she decided perhaps she’d been wrong at supper and he did want the same. Yet, by the time she stepped away from the pianoforte and started toward him, the Duke of Danby had drawn Nathan into conversation. A quick glance around the room confirmed that everyone was thus engaged except for Blackbourne and herself.
Amusement filled his gaze, as if he knew she was wary of him. That would not do at all. One thing she’d never been able to abide was anyone thinking she was afraid to do something. She squared her shoulders and marched over to him. “Well, Your Grace, it appears we are the wallflowers in the room.”
A slow, startlingly wolfish smile curved his lips upward. “I’m a weed, and I think you and I both know that you’re no wallflower.”
An army of butterflies invaded her stomach, which made her frown and the duke grin. “What would you say I am if not a wallflower?” she asked, irritated that her voice sounded breathless.
He studied her with those penetrating eyes of his. Had she truly thought his gaze cool earlier? She could hardly remember, feeling scorched as she did by the way he drank her in from her slippers up to the top of her head. She was suddenly very aware of her hair lying heavy on her shoulders. She could imagine his hands sliding through the strands, lifting them off her neck and then pressing his warm lips against her bare skin. A knowing glint came into his eyes, turning the light gray to a dark, dangerous, stormy charcoal.
Good heavens! She’d lost her wits somewhere between dessert and singing. She didn’t even like the Duke of Blackbourne. Or did she?
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