His breathing seemed to be returning to a more even keel, so Ava reached her hand away, not wishing him to think that she was mollycoddling him, when he didn't need it. She didn't get far however, for Kilbride reached out his hand to clasp hers in an iron grip.
"Stay," he implored, his blue eyes pleading, his voice weak.
"Of course," Ava replied simply, allowing him to tug her gently toward his chest. She fell into his arms in an embrace that was so different to their last. It was tender, it was loving, it felt like home, she thought sadly.
She could hear the duke's heart beating within his chest, a rapid pounding that slowly, slowly returned to a more even pace.
"You are better than laudanum," she thought she heard him whisper into her neck, but she didn't want to question him, afraid that just by speaking she might break the spell.
Her fairytale was coming to an end, but for a few moments more, she wanted to enjoy the feeling of being held in her Prince Charming's arms.
Chapter Thirteen
Never had anything felt so right, Raff thought, as he nuzzled Lady Emily's hair, inhaling her intoxicating scent. She smelled like a garden after the rain; sweet, fresh, and lush; if Raff could have bottled her scent, he would, for it was more relaxing than laudanum.
In his arms, he felt her stir a little, and he tightened his arms around her, not willing—just yet—to let her go. There was something so soothing about the way he could feel her heart beating; a steady, even rhythm, that had helped his own heart to slow its galloping pace.
Thank goodness she had seen him, he thought, for he had been near collapse when she had reached out her hand to him. Her touch had anchored him, had gifted him the strength to take those final steps, and now it acted as a balm, soothing his frayed nerves.
He felt her sigh, a sad sound, like a lost kitten, and he looked down. Lady Emily's head was rested against his chest and on her porcelain cheek, he saw the glimmer of a tear.
"Don't cry," he whispered, lifting a hand so he could gently brush the tear away.
"I'm not crying," she protested, making to pull away from him, but his other hand still gripped her waist, and he wasn't letting go.
"What happened?" she asked, after a pause, turning her green eyes up to look at him, "I thought you were going to die for a moment."
"As did I," Raff conceded with a rueful smile, "T'was nothing, just a..."
"A...?" Emily asked persistently, her brow furrowed in an anxious frown.
"Since I returned from the war," Raff began, thinking that to explain he ought to start from the beginning, "I have suffered from strange attacks, which leave me feeling as though I cannot breathe. It mostly happens at night; I wake up from nightmares about battles, covered in sweat and struggling to catch my breath—but sometimes, a crowded place can set me off."
"You shouldn't have come tonight," Ava gently chided him, "If this is what happens—no ball is worth that."
"I wanted to—" Raff said, then paused. How could he admit that he had come for her, just to catch a glimpse of her? He let his sentence hang unfinished in the air, and instead, he pulled her closer to him again.
"You feel as though you belong in my arms," he said after a pause, giving her a sad smile, "Even though I know that you don't want it, it feels right."
"I know."
She knew? Raff frowned; so she did feel it, she did feel this connection. Then why, he wondered, was she so adamant that she could not marry him?
"If that is how you feel," he said carefully, tilting her chin up so that he could look her in the eye, "Then why can you not marry me?"
"Because I am not who you think me to be."
The words were whispered so quickly, that Raff thought he had misheard. He frowned again; he knew she had been hiding something.
"I know you to be the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful woman in the world," Raff said soberly, "I know you are the woman that I want by my side for the rest of my life. One day, when I am old and on my death-bed, I want your touch to be the last thing I feel."
"Please," Emily cried, tugging herself away from him forcefully, "Please don't say such kind words, when I have done nothing but lie to you. I am not the woman you think me to be, please believe me."
She had lied to him? Raff pondered what on earth it was that she could have lied to him about. Perhaps, he thought wildly, someone had taken advantage of her, and she was afraid that he would no longer want her.
"Has someone hurt you?" he questioned harshly, anger—rage—like he had never felt roaring in his chest. "If someone has done something to you, tell me. I'll run him through with a sword."
"No," Emily placed a fatigued hand on her brow, "It is I who has hurt you. You must believe me, Your Grace, I am not the type of woman that you want as your duchess."
"Raff," he corrected her lightly, reining in his anger, for the woman before him resembled a startled doe, liable to bolt at the slightest provocation. "I beg you, call me Raff."
"There is no sweeter sound on earth, than that of a lover calling your name," Emily whispered, quoting a poem that Raff vaguely recognised.
"Emily," he whispered, reaching out for her again.
He must have moved too fast, for his frightened doe took a step back at the mention of her name.
"Forgive me," she said, smoothing down the front of her dress, before running nervous fingers through he damp hair, "I must get back inside, before anyone notices that I am gone."
"Of course," Raff bowed his head; it seemed that he would not be able to persuade her to marry him this night.
Tomorrow, he thought determinedly, as Lady Emily turned on the heel of her slipper and disappeared back inside the ball room.
Raff lingered outside on the terrace, not minding that his coat was now sodden from the rain, or that Thomas would give him hell the next morning for ruining his silk waistcoat. His lungs still felt raw after his attack and he preferred to stay and breathe in the cool, fresh air of the garden, rather than face the stuffy atmosphere of the ballroom. He idly followed the path of the terrace, which wrapped itself around the grand house, until he came to a side gate, and decided that there was no point in returning to the festivities.
The next party that he attended, he vowed as he slipped outside in search of his waiting carriage, would be his wedding to Lady Emily.
The next afternoon Raff returned from Parliament, to find Kilbride House in an uproar.
"What's happened?" he questioned Laura, who rushed out to the entrance hall to greet him.
"It's Georgiana," Laura's face was pale with worry, "She's disappeared."
Disappeared? Raff raised a speculative eyebrow; how could a girl who never went anywhere without a chaperone disappear? Surely Laura was mistaken?
"Are you certain?" he asked, as he handed his hat to the footman and ushered his sister in law into the drawing room, "She's not hiding under her bed, or something like that?"
"She is fourteen, Raff," Laura snapped, "She hasn't hidden under her bed since she was a child. She was upset this morning, then she went out with Mildred to pay a call. When she returned home she told Mildred she was going to lie down for an hour, but no one has seen her since."
"What was she so upset about?" Raff questioned brusquely, his manner more serious now that he knew this wasn't a practical joke on Georgiana's part."
"She didn't say," Laura cried, "But after her call to Lady Emily, Mildred said that she was much worse."
Lady Emily? Lud; Raff stifled a curse—he knew exactly what all this was about.
That morning at breakfast Georgiana had been reading the papers, an act that her mother forbade, but one which Raff indulged. His young niece adored reading the gossip pages and who was he to deny her such a trivial pleasure?
That morning, however, he had rather wished that he had taken a firmer line with Georgiana.
"Rumour reaches me," she had begun to read aloud, disturbing Raff's own reading of the goings on at Tattersall's, "That the D of K and Lady E are no
more. Could it be that this season's greatest match has come to an end?"
Georgiana had set the paper down upon the table and looked at him with horror; "Is it true?"
Raff, now that he thought back on it, rather wished that he had taken a more affirmative note with his niece. Instead he had murmured vaguely about the marriage not being completely set in stone, not willing to compromise his pride by confirming he and Lady Emily would wed, only to have himself proved wrong.
Dash pride, he thought angrily, as he recalled his stupid actions. Georgiana was so fond of Emily, and had been so excited by the idea of a new addition to the family—after a year of such sorrow—that the news the engagement was not as firm as she had believed must have caused her great upset.
"Stay here," Raff commanded Laura sternly, "In case she returns. I will engage the Runners and go look for her myself."
"Raff," Laura hesitated, a frown upon her face, "Be..."
"Discreet?" Raff nodded; if rumours were to circulate that Georgiana had spent any amount of time wandering London unescorted, it could ruin her reputation. Not that Raff gave a fig for society's wicked whispers; but his niece was not as resilient as he against gossip and rumours.
Raff hurried from St James' Square to Bow Street, where he met with the captain of the Bow Street Runners. Having been assured that his men would use the utmost discretion, Raff then left for Grosvenor Square. Lady Emily was the last person that Georgiana had spoken to before she had disappeared and Raff hoped that she might be able to shed some light on where his young niece had run off to.
"Lady Emily is not at home," Graves said, as he answered the door. "She has gone shopping with her maid; perhaps His Grace might find her on Oxford Street? She did mention that she wished to visit a perfumers'."
Raff scowled; he did not have time to go traipsing down Oxford Street, searching the hundreds of shops for Lady Emily.
"My thanks," he said curtly to Graves, before dashing away.
Where might his niece be, Raff wondered, as he drove his Phaeton—so quickly that other drivers cursed him loudly as he passed—through the streets of London. In his mind, he ran through a list of places that he knew Georgiana enjoyed visiting, until at last he remembered Mr Hobbs' Circulating Library.
After what felt like eons, but was actually only a quarter of an hour, Raff arrived at Mr Hobbs'. The library was blessedly quiet when he entered, with only the young assistant at the counter.
"Did you happen to see my niece at all?" Raff asked the young man.
"Not today, Your Grace," the assistant replied, leaping to attention at the sight of the duke.
Fiddlesticks.
"What about the other assistant?" he asked, remembering the girl with the green eyes, "Would she have seen her, do you think?"
"No, Your Grace," the assistant shook his head, "Ava does not work here anymore—'twas only me here all day, and I have not seen Lady Georgiana, I swear it."
So, Ava was the girl's name. Just a few weeks before Raff had spent many an evening dreaming about the green eyed young woman, but then another green eyed girl had taken up residence in his fantasies. Something niggled at the back of his mind, but Raff shrugged the thought aside; he didn't have time for this, he had to focus on finding his niece.
"Thank you," he said to the young lad, who was watching him nervously, "If she does come in, will you send someone to Kilbride House to let them know she's here?"
"Yes, Your Grace. Of Course, Your Grace," the assistant parroted, looking visibly relieved that the duke was leaving.
Raff left Mr Hobbs' thinking to go down toward the Strand, in case Georgiana had made her way to Ackerman's to view the illustrated plates in the window. If she was not there, Raff gave a shiver, then he was all out of ideas. Dread began to fill him, as the reality of the situation set in; his niece was just fourteen years old and trusting and naive. Anything could happen to her, and he did not know how he would cope if it did.
He had just reached his Phaeton when the sound of two familiar voices caused him to turn; Lady Emily and Mary.
The pair were strolling together, arms linked, going in the direction of Mr Hobbs'.
"I just want to look in the window," Raff heard Emily say to Mary, who was wearing a fetching new bonnet, "That's all."
"Oh, I don't know..."
What Mary didn't know was not to be revealed, for Raff gave a shout to attract their attention.
"Lady Emily," he called, rushing forward, "How glad I am to see you."
He hastily explained the situation to both women and finished by telling Emily that she was the last person to have spoken properly to Georgiana.
"What did she say?" he asked her, "Did she seem upset?"
"A little," Lady Emily confessed hesitantly, her face troubled, "She asked would we still remain friends if—if—"
"We did not marry," Raff finished for her.
"Yes," Emily's face flooded with warmth, "And I told her that of course we would. Then we discussed silly things; books, The Belle, and—"
"What?" Raff prompted, as Lady Emily paused.
"The theatre," she said with excitement, "We were discussing Mr McCasey and she mentioned that one can go in and watch the actors rehearse in the afternoons."
Gemini; Raff could have kissed her he was so grateful.
"I must get to Drury Lane," he said, spinning on his heel and rushing back to his Phaeton. To his surprise, Emily and Mary followed him. When he gave Emily a questioning glance, she merely shrugged her shoulders.
"You can't expect us just to sit around and worry," she said, as she gracefully stepped up into the carriage.
There was no time to argue and, in truth, Raff rather liked the idea of having company with him. Picking up the reins, he urged his bay geldings into a brisk canter and began to weave his way through the streets of London. Mary's outlandish bonnet kept catching his eye, as he steered the carriage, and from the corner of his eye he could see shopping bags from various shops gathered at her feet.
It looked, to all intents and purposes, as though Mary herself had been shopping—but that was ridiculous. No lady's maid could afford the hats in Locke's or the pastries from Gunter's.
Raff refocused his mind as they neared Covent Garden and Drury Lane. Due to the market which was held nearby, the traffic had come almost to a standstill; carts, carriages, and shoppers hindered his progress, until finally, he gave up.
"Stay here and mind the carriage," he said to Lady Emily, as he pulled in to an alleyway and hopped down from his seat.
"You can't go alone," Emily protested as she followed him.
Raff hesitated for a moment, and in that second, Emily reached out her hand to his.
"Come," she said, giving him a gentle tug, "Mary will watch the horses, while we go and find Georgiana. I won't let you do this alone."
Chapter Fourteen
Anxiety tore through Ava as she and Kilbride pushed their way through the crowds at Covent Garden. She couldn't help but feel that Lady Georgiana's disappearance was all her fault. Not for the first time she rued having agreed to go along with her sister's plan. Who were they, she thought, to trifle with people's emotions?
Lady Georgiana had called to her that morning, far earlier than the acceptable hour of noon.
"How lovely to see you," Ava had said, leading the young girl and her maid into the drawing room.
"I know it's rather early," Lady Georgiana had said in a rush, "But I just had to ask you—for Uncle Raff is being rather obtuse about the whole thing."
"Ask me what?"
Ava had already known what it was that Georgiana was going to ask her, but she wanted to buy herself a little time to compose an answer for the poor girl.
"Are you and my Uncle not to be married?" Georgiana had asked, her blue eyes threatening tears.
"Well," Ava began, but before she could finish, the young girl gave a sob.
"I had so hoped that you would," Georgiana said, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, "It w
ould be so lovely to have a new face at Kilbride House and, perhaps, a new baby."
A baby? The idea of a baby had never even occurred to Ava, but for a moment she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to hold someone in her arms who belonged to her completely. A rush of warmth flooded her face as she realised that while she imagined herself holding a babe, she was also envisioning Kilbride standing beside her, beaming down proudly at the child in her arms.
Stop that, she told herself sternly, he wouldn't be smiling at a child unless it came with pedigree papers.
"Your Uncle and I," Ava had said, once she had realised that she had not responded, "Had agreed to a long engagement, to ensure we were suited before we decided to marry."
"And are you suited?" Georgiana had probed.
"We haven't decided yet," Ava replied, in an attempt at tact, "But whatever happens, we shall remain friends Georgiana. I have thoroughly enjoyed all your reading recommendations."
Ava had then launched into a discussion about the book that Georgiana recommended to Emily that fateful day. And from there she had moved the conversation along to other topics, until Georgiana had seemed more composed.
"You're sure you'll wish to remain my friend?" Georgiana had asked, just before she had taken her leave.
"Always," Ava had promised, feeling so wracked with guilt that she was glad the charade was nearly at an end.
Afterwards, she and Mary had spent the day together, but despite all the extravagances they indulged in—Gunter's for ices, Locke's to buy Mary a bonnet, Rundell and Bridge for a pair of earrings—Ava had not managed to shake the feeling of guilt.
And now she knew why, she thought, as she scurried to keep up with Kilbride's long strides; the twins' plan had managed to hurt not one, but two people.
"I hope she's here," Ava said aloud, as they turned into the square where the entrance to the theatre was situated. It was quiet, unlike the last time they had visited, when carriages and grandly dressed people had loitered outside.
Ava and Kilbride hurried up the steps into the foyer, before barrelling through a set of doors which led to the stalls of the theatre.
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