She realized the fretfulness was somehow dependent upon her. She did not know what to do, but she wanted to wipe away that disquiet.
“You must be cold,” she said.
“Not in the least,” the words were whispered.
Emily nodded. The rush of heat pooled within her as well. She knew if she closed her eyes he would kiss her. Surely the flames would consume them both if they kissed. She could not.
His hands left her ears then and he pulled her cloak closed between them. His hands remained fisted at the seam and she wondered if he needed something to hold on to lest he do something foolish like pull her into his arms. The thought set her blood to boil and her cheeks ablaze.
She wondered what might happen if he gave a gentle tug and pulled her forward. It was such a simple thing. Such thoughts were traitorous to everything that she had planned for herself and yet, she could not move away from him.
“You are trembling. Are you chilled?” The duke asked.
“Yes,” she lied in a breath.
He released her and stepped away, drawing a very obvious steadying breath of his own.
“Then we should return,” he said retrieving his gloves.
She nodded and allowed him to lift her once more into the saddle. This time, she turned her head and closed her eyes for she had little enough reserve in willpower to be sure that she could be trusted to meet his heavy gaze.
Their return was silent, although on occasion they cast estimating glances at one another. What must he be thinking, she wondered? Probably that she was soon to return to London, a place where she had no longer had any desire to be.
“Ho!” Called Edmund. “Did you find any berries?”
“One lonely sprig of holly,” the duke said.
As they rode, Emily forced herself to consider her own feelings. Was she receptive to the duke’s supposed suit? She did acknowledge that the emotions she felt were much stronger, and more vibrant, than those she had experienced around any other gentleman. Could it be that his appeal had to do with the warm memories of the past? She thought not.
No, if she were being honest, she had come to appreciate the gentleman for what he had become, for what he had overcome, and for the kindhearted companionship that proved that, even after all this time, he still knew her truest self better than any other. The knowledge brought a flutter of excitement to her breast.
She glanced at the duke mounted proudly at her side. He glanced back as if he could feel her scrutiny and her breath caught. For the first time, she realized that love did have the power to hold sway over her choosing. She was already in very real danger of falling in love with the duke. If it so happened that she found herself in love with Alexander, and she very nearly could be, she realized that she would be inclined to accept his suit.
That is of course, if he offered. It would be forward for her to give any true indication of her feelings, but she felt as if her heart would burst. She felt the holly branch still tucked behind her ear, warmth roiling in her core. She should have closed her eyes and leaned into him, she castigated herself. He would have kissed her. She was sure of it, and she wanted his kiss.
19
The duke paced his study. He was nervous. He had not thought he would be. He was a straightforward man. Intrigue did not come easily to him, save for this: this must be secret.
The duke knew that Emily would be upset if she knew about Henrietta. Still what was he to do? He paused, remembering the day he invited the banished lady back to Northwickshire.
When Henrietta appeared at his door, he caught her hands. “I thought this would be the best place for us to meet,” he said. “Far from gossip.”
“Yes,” she replied. “Thank you.”
He hesitated a moment and then closed the door.
“Sherry?” he said. He remembered she was partial to the drink.
She nodded and he took a brandy for himself. “I must offer condolences. I am indeed sorry for your father’s death.”
She laughed with a touch of sadness. “No, you are not,” she said. “He was a miserable old man.” She took the sherry and sipped it. The duke thought that was true and yet…
“Still he was your father,” He said.
“Yes,” she drew a shaky breath. “You do understand, Alexander. You have always understood. I thank you for your letter, and for inviting me back. I missed Northwick… and you.”
“I was remiss in not doing so sooner,” he said.
She shook her head. “It would not have been wise.” She laughed bitterly. “It may still not be wise.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
She inclined her head and then gave him a cheeky grin. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
“Oh, do not,” he said. “The title feels strange enough. I am only Alexander, as I have always been.” He laughed and the tension eased. “In any case, I doubt, I could have done this while either of our fathers lived, but now…” He let the sentence hang.
“Now, it is just us,” Henrietta supplied, “and we may do as we wish.” Her voice was a husky whisper filled with emotion. She took a hearty drink of the sherry and drew a shaky breath. “Alexander, I do not know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Henrietta.” She inclined her head and set her glass aside.
It had been sherry they drank that night.
Henrietta had let him into her room.
It was already past midnight and Henrietta’s father’s party was in full swing which meant most of his guests were ape drunk, including Alexander’s own father. Henrietta was meant to stay out of the way in her room.
Alexander had procured half a bottle of sherry and two glasses. They toasted each other and their friendship. They had visited before when Henrietta’s father held a party. There was little chance that anyone would see them. It was late and both of their fathers were already tap-hackled.
Usually, the parties lasted until the early hours of the morning and the servants had their hands full cleaning up after the guests. Alexander only had to slip out before dawn and no one would be the wiser. He had done it on several previous occasions. This seemed no different.
They had played some cards and read for a while. Then he had tickled her because she wouldn’t tell him the answer to some riddle, and finally he had asked her, if he might kiss her. A few fumbling tries later they laughed and went back to reading. The drink made them sleepy.
He remembered thinking that the fire was burning down. He should stir it up and put on another log, or he should leave and Henrietta could call a servant to tend the fire; only he doubted that anyone would hear the call bells with the revelry downstairs.
Next thing he knew he was being dragged awake by Henrietta’s most irate Father. His own father was red in the face as well, although whether that was from anger or hangover it was hard to tell.
He remembered the day vividly and the high price for the stupidity of falling asleep together in a bed.
No matter that both Henrietta and himself swore with all manner of promises that nothing untoward had happened, their fathers would not see reason.
Henrietta’s father had demanded their marriage for the ruination of his daughter, not that he would have cared at any other time, but with the promise of a future duke as her husband, he had put on a good show of outrage.
Alexander’s father had seen the trap and rebutted accordingly that his son would not be ensnared by a half-grown hoyden who had been left to do as she pleased. He said all manner of awful things about Henrietta and accused her of everything from harlotry to witchcraft for tricking his gullible son with her well-practiced charms.
Alexander had not been sure if he should be angered for being called gullible, or enraged on Henrietta’s behalf. In the end, it had not mattered what either of them said.
The friendship between the baron and the duke had fallen out; coin had been exchanged to settle the matter, and Henrietta had been sent away.
He had caused her banishment. He s
hould have invited her home after his father died, but he had not. Alexander had followed the letter of the document written up on that fateful day. He continued to pay the yearly sum to Henrietta’s father, the price for their foolishness, but it was time to put an end to it.
“So what do you propose?” Henrietta asked.
He pulled a folder from his satchel and showed her the paper. “Does this meet with your approval?”
Her eyes widened. “It most generous,” she said. “More than generous in fact.”
What might Emily think if she ever discovered the stain upon his past, the duke wondered? She, who was so pure and kind, was sure to suspect that he would be no better to her than his father had been to his wife.
Still, he had to find a way to repair the injury, for Henrietta’s sake as well as his own. He owed the lady that much at least. No matter that he had not truly despoiled Henrietta; his thoughtlessness had marred her good name.
He loved Emily, of that he had no doubt, but was he worthy of her? No, not now. Perhaps not ever. At least not until this matter was settled once and for all. He was tired of suffering for something that had never happened. And yet, implication was enough to damn, and Emily was a London girl. Such things where even more anathema in Town than in the county. He would not see Emily besmirched.
She was better off with Robert Hawthorne, he thought with a surge of jealousy. Hawthorne would not have made such a careless mistake. His family had guarded his good name since birth and would continue to do so as he grew nearer to his inheritance. At his best, Alexander thought, he was a far sight short of what Emily deserved.
Still, having Emily returned to his life had been like a bright light that had cast away the darkness. Alexander could not help but hope. He had forgotten how much they had shared and how right they were for one another. Emily made him better. She made him want to be better. She made all the foolish goings on that passed the time between then and now seem like nothing. If he could only be with her.
He could not bear the thought of her becoming a Hawthorne, and his never seeing her again. He could not, would not, allow it to happen.
This had to be settled before he could even consider Emily.
Henrietta was depending upon him. She had no one else, and he could not disappoint her.
“The originals are with the solicitor, Mr. Mills.” The duke explained. “I simply wanted you to have a copy, and if you have changes…”
“No,” Henrietta interrupted shaking her head. “Alexander you did not have to do this.”
“You will need the originals,” The duke continued. “I thought it best to leave the documents with the solicitor until you are ready to collect them.”
She nodded her agreement and tucked the letter into her reticule and put it aside.
“Oh, Alexander, thank you,” she said softly tears brimming. She leaned into his arms and he held her as of old.
20
Another week passed and the weather turned chill. Christmas tidings were in full swing. Several evenings of cold had forced the cancellation of parties and travel so that when Uncle Cecil announced that Lake Brakenbrush had frozen solid, Emily leapt at her brother’s offer for a turnabout the ice.
Skating had long been one of her favorite winter pastimes, and there was nothing quite like a country lake on which to take the pleasure. She remembered with fondness the many afternoons spent gliding across the ice until Uncle Cecil would come shouting that they had made the kitchen hold dinner late and their aunt was cross.
Of course, when they arrived at the manor with Alexander and Anne in tow, Aunt Agnes had never been cross. She had given them hot cocoa with peppermint sticks and warmed them before the fire until they were toasty and ready to eat.
She and Edmund had stopped, on their way, at Aldbrick Abbey to inform the ladies of their intent to take to the ice. Their friends had begun the trek several minutes before and were expecting the Ingrams’ to join them forthwith.
Upon their arrival to the frozen shore, it seemed as if the entire town had turned out in celebration of the winter festivities. Those that had once been young in her memories were now grown. Tiny children raced and tumbled into snowdrifts, couples glided arm in arm, and groups of single gentlemen and ladies socialized while taking their turns across the small lake.
The children were unknown to Emily. Save her cousins, there was not a single face that Emily recognized. It was strange how life goes on without you, she thought. Northwickshire was both the same, and changed, since her last visit, and she found that she was glad that it could manage to be both at the same time.
“We are late,” Emily laughed as she looked for others that she knew within the crowd. “It seems that the whole town is here!”
A breathless Anne skidded to a stop and clung to Edmund’s arm for support.
“Oh, I am sorry, Edmund,” she cried. “I was making my way over to talk to you, Emily. I have grasped the skating, but I seem to have forgotten the stopping. Never fear, I shall get my feet under me soon enough.”
“I am out of practice as well,” Emily admitted. It had been years since she had attempted the pastime and it would surely be comical.
Anne giggled as Edmund pretended to push her over before setting her back to rights a moment later.
Emily could not contain her girlish excitement and looked around to see if the duke had arrived. She hoped that his new position did not mean that he refrained from such simple joys as skating.
He had used to be one of the first on the ice and one of the last to come off the frozen surface. Bramblewood Park bordered over half of the lake, and therefore, had the easiest access for skating as well as determining whether or not the ice would hold.
As far as Emily could see there was no sign of the duke. She frowned, disappointed. Then, she spotted him along the far side of the lake. Alexander. She was instantly aware of the way he moved although he was some distance away. He glided along with accomplished ease. When someone spoke to him from the shore, he turned gracefully and stopped to talk to the group of gentlemen.
Emily felt a rush of heat as she watched him pull off his hat and push back his hair as he had done so many times when they were children. Now, she wanted to run her own fingers through his curls. She wanted to touch him, to feel the jolt that sprung between them at the contact.
Emily realized that she wanted to skate with him. Skating would give her an excuse to be held in his arms. The thought brought a blush to her cheeks and a flutter to her heart. She applied herself to her skates.
“Are you not yet ready?” Anne chided, as she and Edmund stood waiting for Emily.
Emily laughed and promised a round once she had buckled on her skates. In the meantime, Edmund offered his arm to Anne, and the pair was off before Emily could toss a handful of snow in their direction.
She was about to step out onto the ice with tentative feet. She glanced back towards where Alexander stood. The last thing that she needed was the duke to witness her falling flat on her bottom.
Henrietta was off in the distance, gliding with ease. Those who did not, or could not, skate had gathered on the far hill to watch the fray. Some had packed picnic baskets from which to feed their children and several even had a bottle or two of mulled wine or cider that steamed from their cups and warmed their hands. In a few hours, someone would start a bonfire and the entire gathering would settle in for the day.
“Miss Ingram,” Mr. Eldridge appeared by her side and offered his greeting. “May I offer my services?” She accepted with a glance back at the duke, still conversing at the lake’s opposite end. She allowed Mr. Eldridge to escort her onto the ice. The turn around the lake was invigorating, but Emily was not up to much discussion.
She had to concentrate on her footing. It had been a long while since she skated. It was a good thing that Mr. Eldridge did not require her active participation in the conversation. Emily found that the agricultural instruction did not need answer, which suited her fine as she focused mo
st deliberately on where her skates met the ice.
In spite of his passion with all things agricultural, she had decided that Mr. Eldridge was a fine, steady man. He had made a respectable name for himself in the area and seemed to have done so without artifice. Just because his interests were not akin to her own should not make him a bore, she reminded herself. It was a blessing that he had something in which to pour his passion for he was unmarried and certainly in want of a wife.
Emily was just getting her feet under her when the duke skated near. She caught her breath nearly losing her balance. He had seamlessly turned around backwards and glided in front of Mr. Eldridge without interfering with the man’s skating. He was quite marvelous. Emily remembered when she was so confident on the ice. She was indeed out of practice.
“Might I have a turnabout the ice with you, Miss Ingram?” He asked. Emily nodded eagerly and Mr. Eldridge allowed the duke to take over partnering her. She stumbled a bit in the exchange. The duke caught her and held her close. She marveled at the strength of his arms which held her upright easily.
“I was wondering when you would have heard enough about the projected yields of the south quadrant,” The duke laughed with the confidence of one who had allowed her to languish just long enough before rescue.
“Oh, you let me suffer,” Emily said with mock severity. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow using him for support as she worked to synch her pace with his long stride.
“Just long enough for you to appreciate my gallantry,” he said laughing. She realized he had slowed to accommodate her. Still, she chided him.
“Gallantry? Oh no. You should have rescued me sooner. What sort of hero are you?” She said recalling their games of childhood. He had felt like her hero. How many times had he rescued her from some villain?
She glanced up at him, and realized he was gazing at her. Their eyes met with a near physical snap, heat pooling between them. Her concentration faltered then, but he held her steady. He settled her in closer, his right leg nearly against her left. She could feel the heat of him at her side, but she was steadier on her skates now regardless to the fact that her heart was beating like a drum.
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