“What can I do?” he asked as she pulled from his embrace.
She met his stare. “Will you…will you come out and say hello?”
“Margaret,” he said, turning his back to go sit at his desk again.
“Don’t Margaret me!” she said, but laughter had returned to her tone. “Please, it will put the ladies all in a twitter and take some of the focus off Mother’s absence.”
He pressed his lips together and then glared at her. “You use my absolute adoration of my baby sister against me.”
She grinned. “Every single time, yes.”
He threw up his hands in surrender. “Very well. I shall poke my head out. But I warn you, I will make an excuse to go. I have things on my agenda today that cannot be ignored.”
She clapped her hands together and there was no denying the relief on Meg’s face. “Oh, thank you, Jamie.”
He smiled at the shortening of his name, a throwback to their childhood days. Margaret so rarely called him that anymore and it warmed him. “You’re welcome.”
“You may change your mind about not staying,” she said as she moved toward the door.
He sighed. “And why would I do that? I have no interest in listening to your friend’s gossip.”
Meg rolled her eyes at him. “We do more than gossip. And the reason you may wish to stay is that someone you like will be there.”
He shook his head in confusion. “Someone I like? You?”
“No. Emma Liston,” Meg said, laughing as she exited the room and left James alone with her parting words. He leaned back in his chair, staring after her.
Emma Liston. It had been two days since he last saw her at Lord and Lady Rockford’s Season opening ball. He’d been trying hard to get her out of his mind ever since. It was a funny thing that she kept popping into his head. She wasn’t at all his type and he hardly ever thought much of one woman over another.
“It is likely because she saw Mother at her worst and offered kindness,” he muttered, looking back down at the ledger before him. Now the numbers swam and he could hardly recall what he was doing before Meg came in and distracted him.
Certainly it wasn’t thoughts of Emma Liston that did that. Certainly not. Nor was she the reason that this chore to go say hello to Meg’s guests suddenly seemed less irritating.
No. Not at all.
As the carriage rounded the last bend onto the drive at the Duke of Abernathe’s London estate, Emma swallowed hard and tried to maintain some small semblance of calm. It wasn’t easy when across from her, Mrs. Liston was talking on and on, just as she had been since they left their home nearly half an hour before.
“You should try to sit next to Lady Margaret,” her mother said.
Emma shook her head. “Mama, I’m certain there will be seating arrangements made and more important guests will be seated next to Meg—Lady Margaret.”
Her mother’s eyes lit up in triumph. “Well, make sure you talk to her for as long as you can, regardless. She could be your champion.”
Emma gripped her hand on the carriage seat. “Mama, I don’t want to use—”
“Posh!” her mother interrupted, waving one hand wildly. “Of course you should use this connection. It could be your saving grace.”
“Please, Mama,” Emma whispered, exhaustion washing over her in one long wave. “Just, please.”
The carriage stopped before they could continue the argument and her mother shot her one more pointed glare before she was helped from the carriage by a footman. Emma smoothed her skirts, tried to calm her suddenly racing heart, and followed Mrs. Liston out of the vehicle.
As she looked up at the fine home, she was surprised as Meg, herself, stepped from the front door and waved at them from the top step.
Mrs. Liston grabbed Emma’s arm and all but dragged her up to the top, chattering all the time.
“Lady Margaret!” she called out. “How lovely of you to invite us. You know how Emma cherishes your friendship, we are so pleased.”
Emma’s cheeks flared with heat at her mother’s over-solicitous words. She cast Meg a quick look but found the other woman didn’t look irritated by the silliness of her guest.
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,” Meg said, reaching out to catch Emma’s hand for a brief squeeze. “Hello, Emma.”
“My lady,” Emma said softly, reverting back to correct formality for this public setting as she met Meg’s stare.
For a flash she saw understanding in her eyes. A bond made by mothers who humiliated their daughters, though in very different ways. And for the first time that day, she drew a full breath and calmed a little.
“You two are our last arrivals,” Meg said, sliding an arm through Emma’s. “So I shall escort you back to the veranda myself.”
Emma gasped in horror at that statement. Her mother had forced her to change three times, then ultimately had her put on the first dress she’d started with, a yellow gown with blue flowers stitched through the bodice. Of course, that was why they had run late.
“I’m so sorry to delay the party,” Emma gasped.
Meg shook her head. “Gracious, it’s fine. Truly, the previous guest only arrived five minutes ago, so you are not so very tardy. And I’m pleased that our group is now complete.”
As she spoke, she took them through a beautiful parlor and out a set of open French doors onto a veranda. Emma couldn’t help it. She came to a sudden stop as she looked across the beautiful space.
It was wide and broad with lattices strewn with flowering vines. From this vantage point one could see the sprawling garden behind the estate manor, complete with a rose maze and a huge gazebo off in the distance. There was a fountain in the middle of it all, where a stone lady dressed in flowing Grecian robes poured a never-ending pitcher of water while white angels lifted their hands to catch the liquid.
“Isn’t it lovely?” Meg said with a wide smile. “It is one of my favorite places in all the world.”
Emma nodded, all but speechless. Then she found herself moving forward as Meg pulled her into the center of the veranda. A dozen tables had been set there, with white table clothes and beautiful floral arrangements in the center of each. They were full now with finely dressed ladies chatting and smiling. Emma saw a few look toward her with surprise. Of course they would be surprised—she was never invited to such events.
“Mrs. Liston, I have put you here,” Meg said, stopping at a table with one empty seat at it. “I’m certain you already know the ladies.”
Emma watched as her mother’s eyes all but bugged. The table was filled with some of the most important older women of Society. From the Countess of Hastingcross, who almost singlehandedly dictated the fashions of the day, to the Viscountess Breckinridge, whose annual masquerade ball was the most sought after invitation of any in Society.
“Welcome, Mrs. Liston,” Lady Hastingcross said, patting the empty chair beside her. “Your hat is divine.”
Mrs. Liston said nothing else to Emma and Meg, but floated into her chair and immediately launched into a discussion with the others. Emma’s heart swelled at the opportunity Meg had somehow created for her mother.
But she could see there was no place for her at the table and Meg was already drawing her to another seat closer to the edge of the veranda.
“And you shall sit beside me,” Meg said, releasing Emma as she smiled at the ladies who would join them. “Do you know everyone?”
She proceeded to introduce the circle of six others. Emma knew a few but not all, for just as at her mother’s table, they were women who ranked far above her in Society. And like with her mother, each woman was friendly and accepting, and Meg helped along the conversations with lively tales. By the way she included Emma in each discussion, it was obvious she had claimed her as a friend and that seemed to be enough for the others in attendance to welcome her into their circle.
The time flew by as tea and treats were served and good conversatio
n was had. Emma was just beginning to feel comfortable when one of the ladies said, “Margaret, darling, where is your mother?”
“Oh yes,” said another. “I know she left the Rockford ball early—is she well?”
Emma swallowed and sent Meg a quick look. Her friend had paled a shade and her smile now seemed forced rather than natural. “I’m afraid Mother took a bit ill that night and she is not fully recovered.”
“Oh, what a shame,” another woman sighed. “You know, I could recommend my physician. He works wonders, you know.”
Meg’s cheek twitched a fraction and Emma knew the truth in an instant. She so wanted to reach out and squeeze Meg’s hand, comfort her, but she resisted.
“Thank you, I shall get his name from you later,” Meg said.
If there were to be more questions about the absent duchess, they were cut off as the veranda door opened. Emma turned toward it and caught her breath as the Duke of Abernathe stepped from the house and onto the balcony.
His appearance sent a ripple through the crowd and all chatter increased briefly and then stopped as they stared at him. He grinned, like he was soaking up all the female attention, and came forward.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” he all but purred.
Greetings were called out by the large group, but Emma stayed mute. She even found herself sliding down in her chair a bit, praying he wouldn’t look at her. Though what she thought would happen if he did was entirely unclear. Would she suddenly glow? Would there be a beacon that lit up above her head and spelled out that she was a fool?
The man probably didn’t even recall meeting her or dancing with her at this point. It wasn’t as if she was important in any way.
He swung his gaze around the veranda just as those thoughts passed through her mind, and suddenly his dark gaze pierced her. He held on her a long moment, the corner of his lip quirking up as he did so. And then his gaze moved on.
And yet in that moment her heart skipped a beat. Her stupid, foolish, idiot heart leapt at just one look from him. Why in the world did she allow that? He was just a man. A handsome man, yes, but so entirely out of her league that she was silly to even look at him, let alone let her body react with attraction.
“I wanted to say hello,” he said. “For how could I resist such a gathering of beauty?”
The group laughed and there were blushes and giggles into fans. Emma watched him smile at the group at large and ducked her head. Of course none of his regard was truly focused on her. It was a trick of the mind, nothing more, seeing something where there was nothing. The man had only danced with her out of some sense of obligation.
She settled back as he spoke a few more words, then exited the veranda back into the house. As soon as he was gone, the party all but exploded as the women talked about him. Even their own table didn’t seem to be deterred by the presence of the duke’s sister as they buzzed about how handsome Abernathe was and mused on the possibilities of his matching that Season.
Emma ignored it all, staring out across the veranda toward the brief glimpses of green grass and flowers out in the garden. In this moment, she knew she had to stay calm. Stay reasonable. She had to keep herself from being swept up in the general obsession with the Duke of Abernathe. For some lucky lady, he would one day be her husband.
But not Emma.
Chapter Four
As the party slowly broke apart, Emma shifted. Ever since Abernathe had come out to say his hellos to the group, she had felt out of sorts. Now she just wanted to go home and forget she’d seen him.
But her mother had fallen into a deep conversation with Lady Breckinridge and there seemed no chance they would leave until Mrs. Liston had wrung every opportunity from the new friendship.
Emma turned to watch Meg walk back onto the veranda after she had escorted some of her guests out. Meg smiled as she headed toward Emma.
“Did you have a good time?” her hostess asked.
“Yes,” Emma lied. “Thank you so much for inviting us.”
Meg slid an arm through hers and guided her away from the crowd. Once they were out of earshot of the few left, she said, “I wondered if you might like to stay a little longer once the others go.”
Emma blinked. “Stay here?”
Meg nodded. “Yes. I wanted so much to talk to you more and with everyone here and my hostess duties, it was nearly impossible.”
Emma opened her mouth, but didn’t get a chance to respond as her mother approached the two. “What are you ladies chatting about so conspiratorially?”
“I am trying to convince your daughter to stay a bit longer, once the others go,” Meg said. “I want to take a long turn in the garden and I’d love her company.”
Emma saw Mrs. Liston’s eyes light up at the idea of getting to stay in the Abernathe home a bit longer. “A fine idea,” she said, nudging Emma none too gently.
“I would, of course, ensure she got home safely,” Meg added.
Mrs. Liston hesitated a moment as she realized Meg’s invitation didn’t actually extend to her. But then she recovered and nodded. “Well, of course Emma will stay.”
She shot Emma a pointed look, one filled with years of spoken and unspoken haranguing, and Emma held back a sigh. “Of course I will stay, my lady. Thank you.”
Meg clapped her hands. “Excellent. Let me see the last of the others out and I’ll return shortly.”
Emma nodded and her mother leaned forward to buss her cheek. “Take advantage,” she whispered sharply in Emma’s ear.
“Goodbye, Mama,” Emma returned through clenched teeth.
Meg took Mrs. Liston and the others out, and Emma walked to the stone wall of the veranda, resting her hands on the edge to look out over the garden once more. She lost herself for a moment in the cool greenness of the flowers, but reality returned soon enough.
What could Meg wish to speak to her about? Something to do with Lady Abernathe’s untoward behavior two nights before? Or was she going to warn Emma off the duke, himself? Had her dance with him been marked by his sister?
“Isn’t it lovely?” Meg called as she returned to the veranda. “I cannot wait for you to see it more closely.”
Emma turned and stared at the other woman as she approached. She’d spent a lifetime observing those of Meg’s stature and popularity. A lifetime trying to avoid their attention because it was rarely positive. Diamonds and wallflowers were simply not friends, not in her experience.
“May I ask you something?” Emma asked, finding her courage.
Meg nodded. “Of course.”
Emma cleared her throat. Normally she wasn’t bold, but in this case she found a strong desire to be. To simply lay the cards on the table and see what Meg’s real motives were.
“I’m a wallflower. And a bluestocking,” she said. “And you’re not. Wh-why would you want to spent time with me?”
Meg drew back. “Well, because I like you, silly. I think despite those labels we might actually have a great deal in common.”
“Like what?” Emma asked blankly, not seeing Meg’s reference at all. “I’m sorry to sound rude, I don’t mean to be. It’s just that I’m confused.”
Meg’s smile fell a fraction. “Do you not think my intellect is equal to yours?”
Emma shook her head, for it was perfectly clear from some of their conversations today that Meg was anything but an empty-headed ninny. “No. No, of course not.”
Meg stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Emma’s shoulder. The half-embrace was warm and Meg’s smile was sincere as she said, “Emma Liston, you were kind to me in a dark moment. You could have used that moment against me and it doesn’t seem that you will. I appreciate that. And I want to be friends, for there are few enough of those in this world. Is that enough of a reason for me to ask you to stay?”
Emma pondered for a moment. It seemed Meg was in no way mocking her. And she did like the pretty, bright woman. “Yes,” she said softly.
“E
xcellent,” Meg said as she released her. “Now, I’m going to run and fetch a shawl, then we can take a turn in the garden together. Will you stay here?”
Emma nodded. “Yes. I’m enjoying the view a great deal.”
“Just wait, it gets even better,” Meg said with a laugh as she raced back toward the house.
Emma sighed as she returned her attention to the green expanse before her. She was just beginning to get comfortable when she heard the veranda door shut behind her. When she turned, it wasn’t Meg who was reentering the terrace.
It was Abernathe.
James came to a short stop as he looked across the veranda and found Emma Liston at the wall a few feet away. She was staring at him, those entrancing eyes wide. She darted out her tongue to wet her lips before she whispered, “Your Grace” in a husky tone that hit him straight in the gut.
He shook his head slightly. Damn Meg. She’d sent him out to the garden without telling him that Emma was still here.
“Miss Liston,” he managed as he strode toward her. “I didn’t realize you had stayed.”
There was a beat where she seemed to be trying to find words and then she said, “Your sister asked me to remain. She wanted to take a turn around the garden together.”
She smiled slightly and James wrinkled his brow. It was the first time he’d seen her smile and though it was not broad, it was a pretty smile. It changed the shape of her face and drew his eyes to her full lips.
“And then she abandoned you,” James said. “Bad form, Meg.”
Emma took a long step toward him, hand outstretched. “Oh no!” she gasped. “Not at all.”
Her true upset at the idea that she would get Meg in trouble warmed him, and he smiled as he ducked his head a little closer. “I was only teasing.”
“Oh,” she said, her hand dropping back to her side. He found he was a little disappointed in that. He wished she’d touched him. He forced that desire away as she said, “Of course.”
The Daring Duke Page 4
