The snow had turned to slush with the carriage wheels and the trampling of horses, but inside the festivities were in full swing as Emily entered the ball escorted by her brother.
Hedgewick looked like a magical land that had bloomed within the spacious manor. Candles twinkled from every surface and there was little by way of décor that had not been draped or sprinkled with every possible type of holiday greens. Bursts of color from the flowers and holly kept the rooms from becoming overwhelmed by a single color.
Emily had chosen an elegant gown of forest green in the hope that she might not stand out amongst the crowd. “Yes,” she told herself. “Blend in with the greenery.” With so many people in attendance, she had high hopes of avoiding the two in particular who had been most on her mind.
Her plan was thwarted; however, as the duke himself was waiting to greet his friends near the entrance hall. He expressed his concern for her health and pleasure that she was now feeling well enough to attend the ball. He offered to escort her into the ballroom. There was little that Emily could do but accept, the ice that encased her heart cracking painfully.
The duke searched her face and Emily was reminded how observant he was. She knew he was looking for any remaining sign of illness. He secured her a seat so that she might not expend what little energy she had recouped.
“I assure you, there is no need,” Emily repeated with a tight smile, but Aunt Agnes countermanded that suggestion.
“It would do me well to know that you had stayed by my darling niece’s side, Your Grace,” Aunt Agnes said with a look of convincing concern. “She has been so weak that I fear she cannot be left even for a moment.”
Emily narrowed her eyes at her aunt who only smiled blandly at her.
“I shall take the task with pleasure,” Alexander said with a nod of stern commitment.
Emily supposed her aunt’s reasons for throwing them together were twofold. Firstly, she had charged Emily to speak with the man and in her aunt’s experience such matters had been resolved to a positive end, although Emily did not expect such a result. Secondly, it seemed to be a sort of penalty that Aunt Agnes was exacting for Emily’s falsifying illness.
She gritted her teeth and realized that she was meant to be punished for her dramatic behavior. That chastisement, in full, was an entire evening under Alexander’s care. She could not decide how she felt about that fact. On the one hand, she was terrified to know in truth that he was to marry Henrietta, and on the other hand, just being near him made her heart beat with the cadence of a drum.
Aunt Agnes waved a jovial farewell as she disappeared into the crowd, but not before she threw a wink in Emily’s direction. She seemed quite pleased with herself, Emily thought.
An unladylike word rose to mind, but Emily kept it to herself. She looked up at Alexander, and then over to Edmund. Both were watching her with rapt attention. She sighed and made for the refreshments. If she could lose her guards she might just be able to find a relaxing corner in which to pass the evening.
“I have missed you,” the duke said.
“Truly?”
“Yes. Your family said you have been ill. Was influenza the difficulty?” he asked.
She gave him a look as if to say, I am not going to discuss my illness with you, but she still felt soiled with the untruth between them.
“My apologies,” he said quickly. “I do hope you are well.” He took her cup and began to fill it with wassail punch from the bowl.
“Well enough,” she replied without looking at him. Instead, her eyes scanned the crowd for Edmund who had already slipped off to leave the pair alone. Traitor, she thought. She could have used his ever present wit.
Emily refused to reveal the hurt that the duke had brought to her for fear that he might request an explanation. Instead, she did her utmost to appear as if his calls upon her as well as the afternoon at the frozen lake had never happened at all. She would behave as she had upon her first arrival in the county; warm and friendly, but not encouraging of any interaction beyond a pleasant acquaintance.
She certainly would not mention that she was aware of the lovers’ secret. No, Henrietta had been correct in her assumption that Emily would hold her tongue. She knew how to keep a secret. The confidence that she had shared with her aunt would be kept, and Emily had no fear that any rumor would spread from Aunt Agnes’ lips.
The ballroom soon filled with dozens of guests vying for a turnabout the dance floor. In spite of the thorn in her side that was otherwise known as the Duke of Bramblewood, Emily found herself enjoying his company. She tried to hold herself apart, but it was no use.
The atmosphere was over all jolly and there seemed to be no reason to allow one gentleman to dampen her mood, even if that gentleman stuck to her side like a burr. The holiday season was in full swing and there was no better way to celebrate Christmastide than in the country. Alexander kept a close attendance upon her and each time he touched her, her heart did a little flip-flop no matter how she told the organ to be still.
“So how do our country balls compare to London?” The duke asked with an ever-present smile.
“I cannot pretend to have experienced anything quite like it,” she replied.
It was true that the celebrations and decorations of the holidays were shared with more freedom in the country than a town residence allowed. There was something magical about it that made Emily wish that she could live in the moment forever. She was ever conscious of the topics they must not approach, namely his intended or the possibility of hers. The skirted around the topics adroitly like accomplished skaters weaving in and out of danger.
“Ah yes, you were not yet out upon your last visit,” the duke recalled taking the conversation to an easier time.
“No,” she confirmed. “Nor for several years afterward. Mother has strict rules as to what is appropriate in that regard.”
“And you always follow the appropriate rules?” He teased.
The whispered comment suddenly incensed her.
“Yes,” Emily snapped. “Someone must.”
The duke looked stunned; perhaps it was hurt.
She turned her back to him just in time to avoid the extension of his hand. She caught the movement from the corner of her eye. She pretended to have not noticed the duke’s offered arm. It was simpler that way, and although her heart raced with the thought of dancing with him, she knew that it would break the fragile resolve that she had mustered. Even now, being so near him, she feared it would crumble.
“Miss Ingram,” his deep voice spoke from behind her, so close that she could feel his breath stir the loose tendrils of hair that fell from those that were piled on top of her head. She closed her eyes in sweet agony, glad that he could not see the difficulty that it took to collect herself.
“Would you do me the honor of joining me for a dance?” The duke asked.
Emily’s breathing was fast and shallow. She had to get control of herself. She blinked rapidly and looked up. When she turned, she made certain that the tears welled in her eyes had abated even though the pressure that they might reappear at any moment still remained.
“I do not think it prudent,” she said with much difficulty.
“Why-ever not?” The duke questioned.
“I am not entirely well enough,” she lied with a small shrug.
The duke took a single step forward under the guise of looking out over the crowd, but the truth of it was that it gave him the opportunity to speak directly into Emily’s ear. “I think we are both aware that you were never ill,” he said.
“How dare you!” She hissed, but she gave away the truth of the matter by looking up at him with a sharp gasp. How had he guessed? A moment later she set her jaw with firm resolve, clenching her teeth.
Edmund, of course, she realized. Her brother would have no way of knowing that it was from the duke that she was hiding, and therefore, had meant no harm by his words. She ought to have spoken with Edmund and warned him to hold his tongue so that thi
s might have been avoided, but it was too late for that now.
“I am afraid that I do not know of what you speak,” Emily replied with surety.
“You know exactly,” the duke murmured his lips so close to her ear that she felt the brush of them against her skin like a kiss. Her breath caught in that instant, but she knew that the contact had been fleeting enough that there was no chance at being overseen. The room was far too crowded. As such, Emily had must do her best to hide the visceral reaction that had taken hold and left her trembling.
“You can tell me, you know?” Alexander coaxed. “We’ve always been able to share with one another. If nothing else, I can listen. Please tell me what has upset you so?”
“There is nothing,” she snapped. “Everything is just the same.”
Emily could see from his expression that he did not believe her, but what did it matter? He had said that they had always been able to share with one another, but he had failed to tell Emily about Henrietta. He had led her to believe he cared for her alone. If he could keep secrets, then so could she.
“Alright,” the duke sighed and stepped away. Once again, his hand lay out between them. “If all is well, as you say, then you should have no reason to decline my offer.”
The equivocation shook her. She knew that they were speaking of the dance, but there was a resolve in his eyes that made her wonder if he had chosen his words with a different meaning intended. Either way, she had been cornered. She could either stick to her insistence that nothing was wrong and dance with the duke, or refuse and be forced to explanation.
Her fingers shook and she willed them steady as she laid her cool gloved hands against the warmth of his skin. His fingers folded around hers and she thought of his enfolding her hands in his own as he pulled on the woolen mittens.
She looked into his blue eyes and realized they were dark as night. Be still, she told her rebellious heart. It was beating fast as a galloping horse, and yet, going nowhere. She knew that the battle within her could not be won.
Alexander tucked Emily’s hand into the crook of his elbow and led her toward the floor. Her first country dance would be with the duke. At least it was not a waltz. The very thought sent a shiver of excitement through her.
She reminded herself that she was meant to be cross with him, but her heart would not obey. She wanted to dance with him. She always had and knew that she had no power to decline this chance to be in his arms no matter what he had done.
His expression softened now that she had capitulated, and try as she might, she could not help but return his smile. Was it possible she could be mistaken? Slowly, she released her breath, hopeful that he could not feel her trembling beside him. If there was one thing that she knew about the duke, it was that he was observant. She doubted he had missed any of her tells. He only smiled at her.
Emily noticed that from the edge of the dance floor Henrietta’s eyes followed the pair as they made their way to their positions and the moment was destroyed. Emily felt her cheeks burn under the lady’s observation. Would her friend interpret this as a betrayal of Emily’s confidence?
Not that there was anything inappropriate about two friends partnering down the line. After all the duke could not dance more than two sets with his surreptitious love without inciting gossip, especially if he was intending to keep their association secret for much longer. Emily placed her hand in the duke’s and tried to convince herself that the flutter in her stomach was merely the result of her enjoyment of the party and holiday cheer.
Alexander knew that something was deeply wrong from the moment Emily entered the hall. Her entire demeanor had changed. They had only just begun to feel natural around each other again, and now that was lost. Emily had shut him out, hiding behind a mask of propriety.
She kept him at an arm’s length as best she could, but he could feel that she wanted to be with him as badly as he longed to be with her. They were drawn to one another, like moths to a flame, and perhaps that attraction was just as dangerous. It hurt him to think that after everything going so well, she now resisted their attraction. Why?
Had she accepted Robert Hawthorne? The very thought made him sick with worry. What if her mother forced her hand? He knew the viscountess had no love of him. It could be that Emily had no choice.
The Lady Kentleworth was a force to be reckoned with and was not above arranging her children’s marriages herself. Still, he thought, as he drew Emily closer by instinct, as if holding her in this moment would keep her close to him always. Could not Emily resist such demands for the sake of the friendship they had once shared?
He wanted to take her in his arms and never let her go. He wanted to declare his love for her right now in this very moment, but the middle of an open dance floor was neither the time nor the place. He wanted to grasp her by the shoulders and demand to know why she was being so stubborn, demand to hear that she loved him in return.
That approach would not go over well either, he thought as he monitored her struggle to quell her enjoyment. Besides, he admonished himself, Emily was not the dramatic type and would certainly be cross if he embarrassed her by making her the center of a spectacle.
The country dance lasted nearly a half hour and the duke was glad for it. After a time, Emily stopped glancing around to see who was watching and even softened the firm set of her jaw so that he stopped worrying for the sake of her teeth. A time or two, she even leaned into him and he could smell the faint floral scent of her hair.
They had never danced together, not really. Children playing on the lawn and hopping about was not the same thing. This was something different, and the ebb and flow of the music, the coming and going of their dancing, was as natural as if they had practiced it a thousand times.
Couples turned and parted, wove amongst the other dancers, and made their way between the rows with a flare of excitement and skill. By the time the music stopped Emily was breathless and laughing. The duke’s heart soared, and he felt as if all were right in the world just for the pleasure of that feminine sound.
“You approve?” The duke asked. The question was directed at Emily’s enjoyment of the ball, but he wondered if she understood the deeper meaning of his words. He knew that her mother wished her to return to London and remain close, but could she stay? Would she stay, for him? He searched her eyes for confirmation, and when they widened, he knew that his meaning had not been missed.
“The Marquess hosts a magnificent party.” Emily’s reply was the safe response, and the duke was wise enough to recognize it as such.
It seemed they were still dancing, only now in conversation. He could not understand why she was now holding herself aloof. Was it not only a short while ago that she had returned his flirtations? He recalled skating when she had settled against him in such a way as lovers do. How he longed for a return of that openness, but she had shut him out.
Had he pressed two hard, been too obvious in his pursuance of her? He had meant to make himself clear, but Emily had rigid expectations of what was proper, and perhaps she had thought him too persistent. What else could he do with Edmund reminding him that Robert Hawthorne was in the offing?
He could not give up now, not when his future, his happiness, lay on the line. He needed to know how she felt and needed her to know, beyond a doubt, of his devotion. They had moved to the edge of the floor so that the other dancers might begin, and he followed her to a seat in a remote corner. Now was as good a time as any, to confess his love, he thought.
“If Christmas balls are not reason enough to consider extending your stay in the country,” his gaze pressed her to give him any sign of her affection, “then, perhaps, there might be some other reason that you might be persuaded to consider?”
Her eyes narrowed and her gaze hardened as if he had upset her with his words. He felt at once that she was slipping away from him, and he did not know how to stop the decline. Why was she so hardened against him?
“I think not,” she replied in a cold tone that w
as unlike anything that he had ever heard from her gentle voice. “There is nothing that could convince me to continue on as things have been.”
The words felt like a stab to his heart, to his gut. Nothing, she had said. What she felt was nothing. He was bereft.
25
What on earth was he asking, Emily wondered? For her to stay in Northwickshire? She agonized over his words and the only conclusion that she could come to was that he was a rake. He must have found his father’s tactics acceptable and thought that he too could enjoy the comforts of several women at once.
What did he expect of her? That she might be willing to live her life under the guise of their friendship, as his mistress? The very thought brought a blush to her cheeks. Or had she misunderstood entirely? Was it Henrietta who was to be his mistress? That thought brought her a wave of disgust. He intended to marry one woman and toy with the other. Did it matter which he wanted as a mistress and which as a wife?
He was an awful man, just like his father.
How could she ever have thought that he could love her? Even as the thought went through her mind, a spike of pain followed it with swift vengeance upon her heart. Emily had suspected, had wondered, and even hoped that she was in love with Alexander, but in that moment she knew it to be true. She was in love with him.
It did not matter that he would marry another. It did not matter if he was false. Her heart belonged to him. She felt the tightness in her chest and the tears filling her eyes. She could not breathe. She could not stand here in front of him and allow him to say such wonderful and heartbreaking things. Love or no, she would not stoop so low as to be any man’s mistress, nor the wife of a man who would keep one.
“Emily,” he whispered and reached for her, but she jerked her arm away like someone who had been scalded with boiling water.
The use of her given name felt like an affront. Without another word, she turned upon her heel, and rather than listen to whatever it was that he might try to say, she ran. She did not stop until she had reached the isolation of the breakfast room which would be abandoned until the card players gathered later in the evening. If she could have been sure where the ladies retiring room was, she would have escaped there, but in her upset she was lost in the unfamiliar manor.
The Duke's Winter Promise: A Christmas Regency Romance Page 19
