“I’m not sure it’s fair to compare Miss Liston to a knot in a cravat,” James muttered.
“To some there will be little difference,” Graham said softly. “But I’m more interested in what you think this silly notion could do for you.”
“You saw how it was at the Rockford ball,” James said. “It’s the first event of the Season and they were already mobbing me. It was exhausting. And it will only get worse, you know. I’ve heard there’s a large group of debutantes this year. Twice as large as last. They’ll all be coming for me.”
“And?”
“And if I am seen as interested in Miss Liston, they may pick another mark,” James explained.
“And when she parts with you to, in theory, entertain a dozen true offers of marriage?” Graham asked.
James smiled. “I think I might be too broken-hearted to even dance this year after she’s gone. Next might even be questionable.”
Graham let out a sigh. “I am troubled by your attitude, my friend. But I am well aware there is no putting you off on a plan once you have it.”
“Indeed, there is not,” James said.
Graham shrugged and a boyish impishness he rarely showed anymore flashed across his face. “And it could be lucrative business for me, as well.”
“How so?”
“Well, you’ve invited Simon and some of the others to this party, yes?”
James nodded. “Yes. Simon, Sheffield, Brighthollow and Roseford are attending. The others are busy and we haven’t seen Willowby in years.”
“Well, then we’ll all be there to hear about your progress with Miss Liston. And place bets,” Graham said with a chuckle as he returned his attention to their all-but-forgotten game.
“Place bets on what?” James asked as he lined up for his own shot.
“I don’t know. If you’ll fall in love with her and how quickly,” Graham suggested as James took his shot.
The statement made James’s hand slip and his ball actually hopped over the edge of the table and rolled across the floor. He scowled as he moved to catch it.
“If I decide to do this, no one is falling in love with anyone,” he said with a laugh. “I can assure you of that fact.”
Emma sat in the front parlor in the window seat, one leg tucked beneath her as the other dangled from the edge. She was watching the carriages drive by on the street. It was something she’d done since she was very young. She’d always wondered who was inside, where they were going, what they felt tucked into their little cocoons.
Today she wasn’t thinking of those things. Her mind kept taking her to Abernathe. To those moments in the garden when he had been so unexpectedly kind. And she had been so stupidly candid.
The man didn’t want to know her troubles. And he certainly didn’t want to hear her ask him to court her, even in jest. He must think her an utter fool.
She certainly thought herself a fool.
“There you are.” She looked toward the parlor door to find her mother hustling in, a missive in her hand. “You have a message!”
Emma turned and slowly rose. Her mother must have pounced on the poor messenger the moment he came up the drive, for she hadn’t heard the bell.
Of course, she hadn’t exactly been attending, either.
She turned it over and recognized the seal. It was the same one that had been on her invitation to Meg’s garden party a short few days before. It felt like a lifetime now.
Her hands shook as she broke it, and inside found a short letter from her new friend.
“Read it aloud!” her mother insisted, eyes bright with possibility and almost manic hope.
“Very well,” Emma said softly. “‘Dear Emma, I wanted to thank you again for your kind company after my party a few days ago. I truly treasure our talks. My brother and I are hosting a country gathering at our estate, Falcon’s Landing. We would love to have your mother and you join us for the fortnight we spend there. I hope to receive your yes soon. With friendship, Meg.’”
As Emma read the words, Mrs. Liston had begun to clap her hands together and she was almost bouncing with delight as Emma lowered the letter. For her part, Emma was less excited. A fortnight at Falcon’s Landing in the shire of Abernathe meant a fortnight with the duke, himself. A man who, she had already decided, thought her an idiot.
A man who made her nervous, and yet she found herself blabbering like a fool the moment he looked her way.
“Oh, Emma, you have made a good match in a friend,” Mrs. Liston said, grabbing her arm and almost physically yanking her from her thoughts. “Lady Margaret! She is so very connected. You must use those connections.”
“Mama,” Emma said, pulling herself away and pacing across the room back to look out the window. “That is a mercenary way to look at a friendship.”
“Well, we must be mercenary, mustn’t we?” Mrs. Liston said, her tone sharp enough that Emma turned to look at her. Her mother’s hands were clasped before her, shaking. “You want to pretend that there isn’t a rider pounding up behind us, bringing only destruction.”
“That is a bit dramatic,” Emma said softly. “We aren’t trying to escape imminent death.”
“No, it isn’t dramatic. We’re talking about the potential of societal death and you are old enough not to act like a child.” Mrs. Liston folded her arms. “Tell me, Emma, how many times has your father swept back into our lives, dragging scandal behind him? How many times has he limited your options and humiliated me with his philandering and gambling and dueling? How many times?”
Emma tapped her foot. “You throw your anger and fear about Father up in my face any time I do not do as you ask, but we both know what will happen if he were to walk in that door tomorrow. You would open your arms to him, all would be forgiven and for a few weeks or months you would refuse to hear any negative opinion about him, no matter what he does.”
Her mother’s face crumpled at Emma’s direct statement and her shoulders sagged. “You think me weak.”
Emma held her breath, for there was not a good way to lie and deny her mother’s charge. When it came to Harold Liston, Mrs. Liston was always torn between abject terror and blind devotion.
“It is complicated,” Emma admitted at last.
“Yes, it is that,” Mrs. Liston whispered, and her tears were real this time, not born entirely out of manipulation.
Emma sighed. She moved toward Mrs. Liston and caught her hands gently. “I do not dispute that you have reason to fear. Father does turn up at the most inopportune times and his behavior usually causes nothing but trouble.”
“And he may very well show up yet again, you know,” Mrs. Liston said with a sniffle. “It has been almost a year since we saw him last, and I wait to hear his footsteps almost every night now. Pounding up the stairs and dragging misfortune in his wake.”
Emma bent her head. “I suppose that is possible.”
“And this time I will not bend to his charms, I promise.”
Emma pressed her lips together, for she knew that wasn’t true.
“You know that if I am mercenary, it is because I am terrified that this time or the next time or the time after that he will bring something down on us that will destroy us permanently,” Mrs. Liston whispered. “And the only way to avoid that fate is if you are married or at least engaged. Then he can blow and bluster, but his hurricane will not destroy us as it could now.”
Emma reached into her pelisse pocket for a handkerchief. As she handed it over, she said, “I’m sorry I’ve failed you so far, Mama.”
Mrs. Liston shrugged but didn’t deny Emma’s failure. “You have an opportunity here, my dear. And we are going to take it. We’re going to that party.”
Emma knew that tone. It was the one that brooked no refusal. She wouldn’t convince her mother any differently no matter what she said.
“Very well, Mama,” she said softly. “Though I cannot guarantee that I will leave this party with any more succe
ss than I have left any other.”
Her mother’s upset a moment before now seemed gone, replaced by grim determination on Emma’s behalf. “You shall have ample opportunity to succeed. Surely there will be dozens of eligible men there for the pursuing, including the Duke of Abernathe, himself.”
Emma’s heart began to pound and she tried very hard not to think of dark eyes and the sadness within. Of big hands and broad shoulders. Of him.
She shook her head. “Abernathe is as interested in me as he is in a gnat, Mama,” she said, but her voice sounded breathless and wavered slightly.
Mrs. Liston didn’t seem to notice. “Then you should try harder. You are not a great beauty, no, but you are not unattractive. If you didn’t show your intelligence so much then perhaps you would have more luck.”
Emma bit her tongue hard. Her mother had been saying that for years. It might be true that her mind brought her no suitors, but Emma didn’t want a man who needed a stupid wife. She didn’t want to hide who she was.
It was just that no one seemed to want who she was.
“I cannot force a man’s attention,” she whispered.
“So you will not even try? For me?” Mrs. Liston said, and then she began to cry fully.
Emma clenched her hands at her sides. This was manipulation and she knew it, but she couldn’t help herself. She stepped forward and embraced her mother.
“Of course I’ll—I’ll try. We will go as you desire. And I will try.”
Her mother gave a triumphant gasp and hugged Emma before she rushed from the room, calling for her maid and shouting about gowns and hats, like the outburst before had never happened at all.
After she was gone, Emma sank down into the closest chair and covered her face with her hands. Trying was one thing, succeeding was another. And in this moment, there didn’t seem much chance of success at all.
Chapter Six
One week later, James stood on the stairs at Falcon’s Landing, watching the carriages pour into the drive one by one. At his side was his mother, who had managed to stay sober for the first time in weeks. And Meg stood at his other elbow, smiling and acting the true hostess of this soiree.
Normally he wouldn’t have minded this duty. Many of those invited were his closest friends. Both Graham and Simon had ridden down to the estate with them three days before and the Dukes of Brighthollow, Roseford and Sheffield had already arrived. Their club wasn’t complete, but he was surrounded by friends, regardless.
Yet James’s mind was somewhere else as he shook hands and kissed knuckles and smiled at friends and acquaintances as they came up the stair and streamed into his home.
The duchess let out a long, put upon sigh at last and said, “Is that all, then?”
Meg began to speak, but James interrupted her as a final carriage turned into the drive. “No,” he said softly. “There’s one last one.”
The carriage stopped and he found himself taking a step forward as one of his footmen rushed down to open the door for the occupants. Mrs. Liston exited first, in mid-sentence and her face flushed. He ignored her, leaning slightly to see Emma behind her.
She exited the carriage with a brief acknowledgment for James’s servant and then stretched her back. She was wearing a blue gown. It wasn’t anything fancy, not like some of the women who had stepped out in something fine to catch his eye. But the blue made Emma’s eyes seem more cerulean. The green hue there faded slightly.
“James,” Meg said, elbowing him in the side.
He blinked and found Mrs. Liston standing at the top of the steps, holding out her hand.
“Mrs. Liston,” he choked out. “Lovely to see you, welcome to our home. You already know Margaret, I know.”
Meg glared at him at his swift and dismissive welcome of the lady, and he heard her warmly making up for it with her own words as she introduced Mrs. Liston to their mother. James didn’t care. He stepped closer as Emma mounted the last few steps and held out a hand to her.
“Miss Liston,” he said.
She hesitated before she took his hand and let him help her to the landing. That hesitation was forever fascinating to him, for he’d never known another lady to be uncertain of him. But there was nothing reaching about Emma. Nothing grasping or false.
She didn’t chase him.
“Your Grace,” she breathed, then looked up at the house. “It is lovely.”
He found himself watching her face for too long a beat before he turned to examine the house. “It is. This place has always been my escape. Perhaps later I could take you on a tour of it.”
She jerked her gaze back to his face, and there was uncertainty in her expression. She didn’t get to respond, though, for Meg caught her arm and pulled her into a hug. Emma’s attention was taken then as the two young women began talking and laughing before Meg introduced Emma to their mother.
“Do you remember Miss Liston, Mother?” Meg asked when the formalities had been taken care of.
James watched the exchange carefully. Their mother had not had any recollection of her embarrassing display at the Rockford ball two weeks before. And she seemed to have no recognition of Emma as she stared blankly at her.
“I meet so many people,” Her Grace said. “Liston, is it?”
Emma nodded, and there was no flash of judgment across her face, no response beyond one anyone would have when meeting someone for the first time. She smiled and held out a hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”
Their butler, Grimble, appeared from the foyer and Meg squeezed Emma’s shoulder briefly. “Go in, get settled. I’ll come up later and we can have a real chat.”
Emma nodded and then her gaze slid to James. She nodded slightly before her eyes darted away and she and her mother entered his home. He found himself catching his breath as she disappeared.
Meg turned toward him. “What is that expression?”
He blinked down at her. “Expression?”
Meg tilted her head. “Oh come, I know you too well. You look all…pinched. Do you not like Emma?”
He swallowed. “I think she’s…fine. I don’t really know her.”
“Well, I like her,” his sister insisted. “So you are going to have to like her, too. I think we could help her.”
James pinched his lips together. Help her? Yes, he had his own ideas about that subject. Ones Meg might not exactly approve of. But he hadn’t fully made a decision on that subject yet, so he merely nodded. “If she is your friend, she is my friend, I assure you.”
“Is that everyone then?” the duchess asked, annoyance thick in her tone.
Meg gave James a meaningful look before she turned back. “Yes, Mother. Emma and her mother were our last guests. We can go in.”
“Finally,” their mother muttered as she trudged up the stairs away from her children.
Normally James would have been more focused on his mother and her behavior, but today his mind turned to other thoughts. Thoughts of Emma Liston. And they were far more pleasant than any worries about the duchess and whether or not she would cause a scene over the next two weeks.
Emma smiled at Sally as her maid folded the last item into her drawer and straightened up to say, “Is there anything else I can do, miss?”
Emma shook her head. “No, thank you. I think I’ll rest a while. Grimble said supper would be at eight and I could use a moment.”
Sally gave her an understanding look. Though Emma, of course, never spoke of her frustrations with her mother, Sally certainly saw and heard things. And two days crammed in a carriage together likely made Emma’s difficulties clearer than usual.
“I’ll come back at seven to help you change. Of course, ring for me earlier if you have a need,” Sally said, then slipped to the door.
She opened it and let out a gasp that drew Emma’s attention to the exit. Standing there was Meg, laughing as she raised a hand to her chest.
“I beg your pardon, my lady,” Sally said, ducking
her head.
Meg reached out and patted her arm. “Gracious, you frightened me. What good timing—were you just leaving Miss Liston to her own devices?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“That leaves her all to me, then,” Meg said, entering as Sally stepped aside.
Sally gave Emma one last questioning look and Emma nodded, excusing her. Sally shut the door behind herself and left Emma and Meg alone.
“I’m so happy you agreed to come,” Meg said as she moved toward her and folded her into a warm embrace.
Emma hesitated a moment, but then squeezed her back. “I’m so thankful you invited me, my lady.”
Meg pulled back and gave her a look. “Meg,” she said with an arched brow.
“Of course, Meg,” Emma said. “It will only take me a dozen times before I remember.”
Meg smiled and looked around the room. “Is the chamber satisfactory?”
“Oh, indeed. I have a lovely view of the woods. I was…surprised that I wasn’t sharing a room with my mother, though.”
Meg grinned. “We are a full house and some of the ladies are sharing with sisters and mothers, but I made sure you had your own room. How else are we supposed to stay up until all hours of the night talking?”
Emma laughed. “Well planned then.”
“James was pleased to see you again,” Meg said as she moved to the window and adjusted the curtains slightly.
Emma tensed at that unexpected observation. “I’m certain he is pleased to have everyone invited here to visit.”
“Not everyone,” Meg said with a shake of her head. “He thinks I don’t hear when he makes these little groans under his breath, but I do. He was reluctant about virtually every lady but you.”
Emma felt her cheeks flaming. “He was happy because I was the last to arrive and he could go back to his friends.”
Meg shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“You and he are very close,” Emma said, working to change the subject since this particular one made her very uncomfortable.
Now Meg’s smile softened and her face lit up. “Oh, we are. He is three years older than I am, but has always included me.”
The Daring Duke Page 6
