Emily frowned at her, “Don’t be dramatic.”
Mrs. Cooke grabbed her and led her to the looking glass. “See for yourself.”
Emily blinked at herself in the mirror, unable to deny Mrs. Cooke’s words. She barely recognized herself. The lavender gown laid soft on her milky white skin and seemed to make it glow. Her cheekbones like twin rosebuds stood out sharply in the face of her upswept hair, her amber eyes seeming to glow. She blinked, wondering who this woman in the mirror was. Surely a gown could not change someone so much.
She curtsied to herself and giggled a bit, exchanging giddy glances with Mrs. Cooke.
“I look quite good,” she whispered.
Mrs. Cooke snorted with amusement. “The word you’re looking for is beautiful, my dear. You are lovely.”
“Th-thank you.” Emily could not stop smiling.
“Now go on with you. You don’t want to be late.”
Emily jumped turning away from the mirror. “Shoes?”
Mrs. Cooke held out a pair of silver slippers. “Enjoy yourself, my dear.”
“I’ll try.” Emily said breathlessly as she slipped on the shoes.
Duncan waited impatiently at the bottom of the stairs for the two ladies. The sooner they went; the sooner the evening would be done. A footfall had him looking up to see his daughter descending the stairs in a silver-and-black gown that seemed to have been made for her spirit. She smiled as she reached the bottom of the stairs and Duncan took her hand and kissed it.
“My Lady,” he bowed over the hand, “you look quite stunning.”
Nancy smiled. “Thank you, Father.”
Duncan smiled back. They regarded each other with fondness, a moment of peace in the eternal back and forth that constituted their relationship these days. Then a footfall had Duncan breaking eye contact and looking back up the stairs.
Miss Fletcher stood, hesitantly, a tentative smile on her face as she prepared to descend the staircase. For a moment out of time, Duncan was struck with awe, wondering who the woman at the top of the stairs was. Then he blinked and everything snapped back into place. He almost stumbled backward as Miss Fletcher took the first step, as straight backed and elegant as a queen.
He watched as she gracefully took the stairs, unable to look away for even a moment. She smiled again, still looking unsure and he smiled back, reminding himself to blink. Her chestnut hair glistened in the candlelight, the silver pin holding it up winking as the light hit it with every step. Her hair contrasted sharply with the amber of her eyes, although they both seemed to shine brighter than any star he’d seen in the night sky.
Her smooth porcelain skin stood out starkly against the lavender of her gown which seemed to move with a life of its own with every step she took. She wore long white gloves that lengthened her hands and added an elegance to her ensemble. For sure, not a single person would ever assume she was nothing but a lowly governess.
She was too magnificent looking for that.
Duncan felt as if he could not breathe.
She came to a stop at the foot of the stairs and he opened his mouth, searching for something to say. His mouth was too dry and his mind was blank.
“Do I look all right?” her voice was soft, melodious, and uncertain as if she did not possess a looking glass.
He quirked his lips. “I think you’ll do quite nicely.”
Nancy cleared her throat loudly, and still managed to convey her annoyance quite clearly. “We’re late. We should go.”
“Of course.” Duncan bowed to them both, offering each an arm. Miss Fletcher smiled shyly as she hooked her arm through his, while Nancy scowled. Duncan sighed inwardly.
It is going to be a long night.
Emily did not fail to notice that the Earl barely took his eyes off her the entire carriage ride to the Perham estate. It made her feel hot inside, her stomach wriggling as if plagued with a million butterflies. She tried her best not to blush but it was hard when his heated gaze rested intermittently upon her.
She remained composed by reminding herself that they were not alone. Lady Nancy was sitting right beside her father and from the looks of her, she was highly displeased with Emily’s presence.
So what else is new?
Emily sighed inwardly, wondering what she could possibly do to change Lady Nancy’s mindset. She could clearly see how unhappy the lady was and felt curiously compelled to help. She knew how disorienting it was to lose a parent–especially a mother–at a young age.
I want to help.
But Lady Nancy kept pushing her away and any attempt she made to bridge the gap between them was rebuffed. Emily didn’t know what to do. She did know that if she did not vanquish this issue, then she would eventually have to leave.
Her eyes inadvertently met the Earl’s and for a moment, all her musings disappeared as she drowned in his ice-blue gaze. She felt as if she might dive in there and swim to the bottom of his soul. A soul she could see was fractured and in pain, much like his elder daughter’s. The urge to heal was almost irresistible even knowing that there was very little she could do.
When she had taken this job, she had thought that it might be a good safe place to hide from Laurence Blackmore until she had accumulated enough money to get some transportation back home. But now she truly felt called to help this family heal from the pain swirling among them.
It’s pure arrogance to think that I have it in me to help.
The voice of reason in her mind tried to say but she refused to listen to it. There was something she could do. There had to be.
Why else would God have put me in this position?
The carriage drew up to the Duke’s London residence, a fancy four-story mansion in Mayfair and they alighted slowly. Music spilled out of the doors and into the well-lit streets. It all seemed very festive. This was Emily’s first ball and she was eager to see just what transpired. She was careful to walk behind Lady Nancy, aping everything she did.
She would not embarrass the Earl and his family if she could possibly help it.
Chapter 12
They stepped into the ballroom as the butler announced them and Duncan was sure he did not imagine the slight pause as everyone registered the utter vision that was Miss Fletcher. He absolutely could not blame them. There was something ethereal about her that transcended mere physical beauty. She radiated goodness and light and he for one was absolutely caught under her spell.
It was not something that he ever would have wished for, but he could not deny it for much longer. In an effort not to gawk at her and give the game away, he focused on his daughter and her needs. She looked very beautiful, a tragic figure in her black-and-silver silk, her eyes dark and stormy as the sky in the spring.
It did not take long for her dance card to fill in spite of the cloud that hung about her, or perhaps because of it. And even her trademark angst could not survive such evidence of popularity. She went off to dance, with first one partner then another. Duncan tried to settle himself discreetly in a corner to watch but it was difficult when every once in a while, a hopeful mother would drag along her daughter to be introduced.
He would smile and be as polite as he could be, but the whole thing became tedious rather quickly. Some of the daughters he met were barely any older than Nancy, mere debutantes with their hopeful smiles hiding the desperate shine in their eyes.
He tried to think if Jane had ever looked like them but all he could remember was her joy and their instant connection. There had been no need for any mothers to push them together. They had gravitated toward each other like two points of a magnet.
He took a large sip of his drink, gravitating toward the gardens in an effort to escape his thoughts. It occurred to him that he had not seen Miss Fletcher for a while.
Perhaps she is dancing.
He did not know why the thought of her whirling about on the dance floor in partnership with some other man made him grit his teeth in rage. He held no ownership of her and she was truly free to dance with
anyone she chose.
He sat down abruptly in a gazebo, placing his glass aside and breathed loudly through his nose, trying to get himself back under control.
“Is something the matter, My Lord?”
He jumped, turning to see a sweep of lavender just rounding the stone column of the gazebo and Miss Fletcher was right there in front of him and not dancing with some other man. He took a deep calming breath.
“Miss Fletcher, I did not see you there.”
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to startle you.”
He turned in his seat to face her. “You didn’t.” He gestured to the stone bench, “Have a seat, won’t you?”
She hesitated a moment before sitting down and then turning to smile shyly at him.
“Why are you out here? Are you not enjoying the ball?”
She sighed ruefully, pursing her lips. “It’s very enjoyable…but also a lot to take in. I thought I’d give myself a breather and take some air.”
“Ah…you haven’t been to many balls before?”
Her eyes cut to his before shifting away. “I haven’t been to any balls before.”
“Oh…well, I’m glad you’re enjoying this one then.”
She laughed, the sound tinkling like ringing bells in a churchyard. “What’s your excuse?”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“Why are you out here, in the garden, all alone?”
He huffed a laugh. “I had my fill of marriageable ladies.”
She leaned toward him, eyes shining with interest. “I suppose you must be quite the catch?”
“Do you not know for sure?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know what the ladies look for in a catch. I would have thought you were a bit old, and you have children so…”
Duncan winced. “Thank you for the lift to my ego. I am still a man of means and not quite doddering yet.” His voice was wryly amused even as he saw that she was embarrassed.
“I’m sorry. Sometimes I do not think before I speak. My Father says it will be my downfall.” Her face fell when she mentioned her father and Duncan frowned. He had noticed on more than one occasion how fast her mood would change with any mention of family.
“I, for one, find it rather refreshing,” he said mainly to distract her, “In this simpering, posturing sea of powder and perfume, it reinvigorates my soul.”
She was staring at him with wide eyes. “Truly?”
“Yes,” he nodded, “And in that spirit of honesty may I say how truly astounded I was when I saw you descend the staircase like a vision from heaven?”
He would not have thought it possible but her eyes widened even further. “I beg your pardon?”
He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “It felt for a moment as if the world ceased to turn.”
She blinked at him, her jaw hanging open. Then she was lunging forward, her mouth pressing against his with more enthusiasm than skill. He froze for a moment but then relaxed, opening his mouth and letting her in. He let her do whatever she would with him, her tongue flicking against his, in curiosity. He clamped down on it and sucked it into his mouth and she gasped against his lips.
He was surrounded by the mint and juniper scent of her and it was intoxicating. He ran his hands up and down the smooth soft touch of her gloves, squeezing her wrist so that he would not be tempted to squeeze other parts of her body. She leaned trustingly into his arms, letting him take control of the kiss, noses bumping together as he pressed closer into her.
She made a surprised sound as he nipped on her bottom lip and then sucked it into his mouth, all thought obliterated by the essence of her, so close to him, so pliable, so willing, he could make her his right there in Perham’s garden. His hands moved, closing about her waist and pulling her closer, letting her feel the results of their passion.
She squeaked into his mouth and stiffened a bit and he loosened his grip on her, willing to let her go if that was what she wanted. Instead, she wound her arms around his neck and held on for dear life.
It was too much temptation for one man to take. He lifted her into the air and deposited her on his lap, his hands mapping her body like an explorer discovering new lands. She made tiny moaning sounds into his mouth as he frantically took all he could.
He was so hungry.
He could not ever remember wanting, no needing, to devour anyone like this ever before. His feelings had never gotten this intense and out of control. Not even with Jane. He had loved his first wife with all his heart and soul. He had wanted her, but if he was honest, he’d never needed her.
At the thought of his late wife he pulled back, breathing hard, eyes wide, pupils dilated and unfocused. He pushed Miss Fletcher off his lap and got to his feet.
“Oh, God,” he rasped, voice hoarse as if he had been shouting for hours. He could not quite hide the way his breeches were tented. “I am sorry. Please forgive me.”
She blinked up at him, her bosom heaving, dress askew as if she could not believe any of this was happening. Duncan bowed to her and quickly withdrew, searching for the darkest corner he could find so as to lick his wounds.
There was a curious buzzing in Emily’s head and she could not bring herself to move a single muscle. Her lips were still tingling from having been bitten, sucked and licked. They were still crying out for more, wondering what had happened to stop it.
She shook her head hard, trying to clear it but it was hard. She took several deep breaths, blinking to clear the giddy unsteady feeling in her body. It didn’t really work, as she tried to stand up but staggered a bit, as if she was drunk.
I am intoxicated. Drunk on emotion.
She giggled a bit as if she had had too much to drink. Everything felt dreamlike and fantastic. She looked around, remembering that she was in public and someone might have seen her grinding herself down against her employer.
She looked down at herself, trying to straighten her dress but there was little she could do about her flushed cheeks or the shine in her eyes, her trembling hands or her heaving bosom. She could not believe that the Earl had done this to her…and then ran off.
What am I supposed to do now? Am I unemployed?
That thought sobered her somewhat and she took a deep breath before heading back into the ball room in search of Lady Nancy. Her charge was still on the dance floor, looking as if she was having the time of her life. Emily scanned the room in search of Lady Nancy’s father but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Forgive me for being so forward, but would you do me the honor of this dance?” she turned around, startled, to find a young man smiling at her. His strawberry-blond hair was slicked back neatly and he wore a black cravat with a black jacket and white shirt. She blinked a few times, not knowing how to react.
“I-I beg your pardon?”
He leaned closer as if assuming that she had not heard him the first time. “Dance with me.”
She was a little taken aback. She was here to be a chaperone and not a participant. The man held out his hand and she felt that it might be rude not to take it. She let him lead her to the dance floor where she tried her best to keep up with the steps. She had seen people dance to the foxtrot before but had never done so herself.
Considering that nobody laughed at her, she felt quite accomplished as to how well she was doing. She even forgot to be flustered about her encounter with the Earl. That was until a hand closed around her arm and she turned to find him glaring down at her.
“It is time to leave,” he growled.
“Oh.” She looked over at her dance partner to see him gawping in astonishment at Lord Sulby.
“Oh I say!” the gentleman tried to protest but the Earl just tightened his grip on her arm and propelled her away, throwing a careless, “Excuse me,” at the man. Emily tried to turn and smile at him in apology but the Earl jerked her arm so she was forced to watch her step or land on her bottom.
He took her right out to the carriage and handed her in. “Stay here while I collect my daughter,” he barked before ret
urning to the ball. Emily leaned back in the seat, eyes wide with shock.
What just happened?
She didn’t know much about the gentry but she was quite sure they were not supposed to manhandle women in such a way, especially not in public.
And how rude had he been to that other gentleman?
Her mind painstakingly picked over what had happened trying to make sense of it but she could not imagine what the Earl could possibly have been thinking.
He returned a few minutes later, arguing in low tones with his daughter. Apparently she was not very pleased to have been unceremoniously removed from the premises either. Emily almost laughed but one look at the Earl’s face had her sinking back into the corner, trying to stay out of sight.
A Wicked Earl she can't Resist: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 10
