by Matilda Hart
The whispering ceased, and Emilia hurried to cover herself under the cloth, lying as flat as she could, and hoping she would be able to breathe. It was scratchy and foul-smelling, but she had her breath until she felt the cart move with the addition of two more bodies, in the seat at the front. She crossed her fingers, and prayed as she had never prayed before, excitement and fear mingling in equal parts in her blood as the cart moved away from the stable. Her cheek bounced painfully against the rough wood, and she stifled her cry of pain with a fist in her mouth. The road was rough and very rutted, or perhaps it was just the condition of the cart, but Emilia despaired of arriving at whatever destination she would end up without significant bruising. Perhaps this had not been the best idea, she thought for the hundredth time as the cart stumbled along an unknown road.
They had not gone five minutes when the sound of horse’s hooves pounded closer. A cry rang out, and the driver of the cart stopped the vehicle.
“Whatever’s the matter?” Mrs. Woods asked. “I have the Duke’s permission to use the cart to get to my brother’s house. Why have you stopped me?”
A gruff male voice said, with a hint of laughter, “We believe you have a stowaway in the cart, ma’am. I’ll just check, and then you can be on your way.”
Emilia groaned. Her humiliation would be complete if the housekeeper of the groom saw who it was that had hidden away in the cart.
“Now, now, come along, my lady,” the man said cajolingly. “No need to make me fetch you out from under there.”
Emilia felt the cart move, and she knew that both the driver and Mrs. Woods had turned in their seats to see who was hiding out in the cart. Dragging her shawl over her head and around her shoulders, she sat up and let the man help her down, hiding her face from view and turning her back to the housekeeper.
“Off you go, then,” the man said, and Emilia heard chuckles emanating from the front of the cart as the driver clicked his tongue and set the horse in motion once again.
Picking her up unceremoniously, the man put her on the back of the huge animal that he was riding, and before she could think to throw herself off, he had mounted behind her and grasped her around the waist.
“Unhand me, sir!” she cried indignantly.
“I rather think not, my lady,” he murmured. “His Grace would not take kindly to me losing you after I had found you.” When she struggled against his hold, he tightened his arms and added, “And if you’d rather arrive back without any more bruising than you already have, I’d sit still, as well.”
His voice was full of suppressed mirth, and Emilia felt tears sliding down her cheeks. She would now become the laughing stock of the servants’ quarters, and she would never live it down. More tears crowded her eyes and slid down her cheeks, and when she sniffled, she felt a gentle hand offer her a rag kerchief to wipe her tears. She did so, and blew her nose. The Duke was waiting for her by the stable door when she returned, and as his man helped her down from the horse, he approached slowly. She could not see his face, nor did he speak for a long moment, making Emilia feel unaccountably nervous.
“Am I such an ogre then, that you would endanger yourself to escape from me, Emilia?” His question was spoken in a quiet tone, no hint of anger to be heard. When she did not answer, he sighed heavily. “Let us go indoors. I have kept my men up longer than I should have, and they must get home to their families.”
Nothing else that he said would have made as much of an impact as those final words. Emilia felt like a naughty child, chastised for being inconsiderate to those less fortunate than her. She turned to look at the man who had come to fetch her off the cart, and spoke to him for the second time.
“I apologize, sir, for my thoughtless actions, and for my discourtesy to you earlier. Please forgive me.”
The man looked at her for a moment in silence, and then he said, “No apologies necessary, my lady. But thank you for making them. Good night. Your Grace, I will return tomorrow.”
Chapter 7
The Duke of Roxburgh was a patient man. He had learned that trait early and it had stood him in good stead in the years when he became his sister’s guardian. He waited until his betrothed was seated before taking a plate with food to her, and sitting down where he could ensure that she ate something.
“How are you feeling this morning, Lady Emilia?” he asked, sipping his tea.
“None the worse for wear, Your Grace,” she answered with a frown.
She was still clearly sulking at having been caught the night before, but he had learned with her not to let any of his amusement show. She would dig in her heels if she thought he was mocking her. He watched her nibbling on the toast, and he admired the curve of her lips, and the delicacy of the fingers that held the bread. She was a pretty little thing, and he was quite captivated by her. And truth be told, he had been so since the summer before, when he had first met her at the Christmas ball. She was intelligent, amusing, and in dependent, and it was that last trait that made her the most appealing to him.
If pressed, he couldn’t say why he did not just tell her that he admired her tenacity the most. He was sure that it would end this rebellious streak that had left her with ugly bruises on her cheek and scratches on her arms from the rough floor of the cart. But something held him back. He wanted her to come to him of her own free will. He wanted her to choose him, despite her desire to remain a single woman. She would be his completely only then.
He sighed. He would need to let her tire herself out with schemes to get him to let her go. He had long ago decided that she was the one for him, and he was determined that she would see it too. No matter how long it took. Well, he would like it to happen within the next three months, or she would turn twenty-one and could then safely ignore him and be within her rights. He often wondered why he had to find the only woman attractive that wanted nothing to do with him.
“Are you well, Cedric?”
Eleanor’s voice broke into his distraction, and he looked up to fine Emilia also looking at him with confusion. Then she masked the look by lowering her lids. He hastened to answer his sister.
“Yes, I was just thinking about our next outing, after tomorrow’s dinner.”
“I thought we might host a dinner party here, to announce your engagement,” Eleanor said.
The Duke sighed again. He had told no one of Emilia’s penchant for fleeing, so his sister had no idea that his betrothed was an unwilling participant in the proceedings.
“Perhaps we can hold off on that for a bit,” he said. “Make your plans, but let’s leave the date open. Emilia needs to get to know me better.”
He had said all he was prepared to say on the matter, and he saw by the knowing look on Eleanor’s face that she understood. He glanced at his betrothed and saw a quick relief cross her face before she cleared it of all expression.
“Is the food not to your liking, Lady Emilia?” he asked, noting that she had stopped eating.
“Oh...no, not at all, Your Grace,” she said. “I was just thinking.”
The Duke could well imagine what she had been thinking about, and it amused him. He wondered what new scheme she would concoct to escape and vowed that the next time she made an attempt, he would be the one to stop her. He needed to seduce her, but not in the time-honored ways. He had to appeal to her intelligence, rather than to her emotions. He doubted that she even knew how delectable she was, or how men’s eyes followed her wherever she went, or what an effect she had had on him from the very first time he had seen her. She was an innocent with the soul and passion that he craved in the woman he would spend his life with.
Instead of teasing her, he said, “Would you like a fresh egg, or perhaps some ham, instead?”
“No, no, this is fine!”
Her cheeks colored, and his heart stuttered. She was much too pale, probably because she was so tense around him, and so determined to leave. The stress of that kind of emotional upheaval could not be good for her. He refreshed her cup of tea, and sat back t
o watch her valiantly eat the egg and the other piece of toast, which she slathered with marmalade. He watched her lick the corners of her mouth, and dab at her lips daintily, and willed his errant body not to stir at the sight. She would be scandalized if she were to discover how she affected him, and then he would lose her for sure. He would need to awaken her before he could share that with her.
Finally, she finished eating, and after the breakfast things were cleared away, he invited her to go for a stroll with him and Eleanor. Although what he really wanted was to take her for a walk by himself, and find a secluded spot to kiss her pretty lips, he knew she was like a horse. She needed to be gentled, to be handled with a light touch. Eleanor’s presence would make her feel safe, even if she was not completely comfortable around him.
They walked through the gardens, and he instructed Hopkins to cut her and his sister a bouquet for their bedchambers. They talked about nothing in particular, and the Duke could see how by the time they returned to the house Emilia had relaxed enough that her smile at the comment that Eleanor made about her fat ankles was a genuine one. He excused himself to his study, leaving her to his sister’s tender mercies. He would continue this gentle wooing, and hope that if she still decided to run away from him, she would come to no harm until he was able to recover her.
That very night, as he suspected, she made another attempt. He knew that she did not want to meet John’s family, because that would only further cement her position in his household. He stationed himself outside her bedroom window, knowing she would not try the indoor escape route again. After dinner, when the house was asleep, he took an extra blanket out with him and settled down to wait. An hour later, he heard a noise and looked up. Emilia had opened her window, and was feeding the bed sheets, which she had tied together to make a rope, through the orifice. It was a large enough window that she would fit through it with some effort.
The Duke watched her drop a bundle to the ground below, and then slide herself over to the rope, grasping it as she maneuvered herself down. She was wearing only her chemise, and her legs were bare. He felt his body stir at the sight of her climbing down the rope as agilely as any boy. Something like pride rose up inside him, and he wished she were already his, so they could play together. She made it to the ground without mishap, and turned to pick up the bundle. He watched to see where she would go, and when she headed in his direction, he hid himself in the shadows until she was abreast of him before speaking.
“Still intent on escaping the prison of my home, my lady?” he asked. She shrieked in fright, and backed away from him. “When will you learn that you cannot escape me? I will not release you, and there is nowhere for you to go.” He forced sharpness in to his voice and watched her eyes fill with fear.
He did not relent. Holding out his hand, he silently asked for the bundle she carried, and when she handed it over, he gave her the blanket. “Wrap yourself in this,” he said. “There’s no telling who might yet be about.”
She grabbed the blanket and threw it around herself, wrapping it tightly and holding it as though it would keep her safe from him. He extended his hand, and she took it reluctantly, letting him guide her back into the house. He stopped in his study, where he offered her a glass of brandy.
“Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Drink this.”
She took the glass from him and their fingers touched. The Duke inhaled deeply at the contact, no did he miss the way her eyes widened. She had felt it too...the charge he felt whenever they touched. Perhaps she was not immune to him, despite her desire to flee from him. Perhaps it was that very response that she was now trying to escape. The thought gave him hope.
When she had drained the glass, the Duke escorted her back to her room, and once the door was opened, he said,
“If you try to run away again, I will take it as an invitation to spend my nights in your bedchamber guarding you. That is a reasonable conclusion to draw, is it not, since you know that I will not let you escape me?” She sputtered, clearly indignant, and he chuckled softly. “Good night, Emilia. Try to get some sleep.”
He walked away before the look in her eyes made him forget that he was a gentleman and do something they would both regret. She did not seem to know it, but she was as fiercely attracted to him as he was to her. Her emotions were unstable at best, and he would not take advantage of her innocence. But he could not deny that he was sorely tempted.
She wore a beautiful deep blue gown to dinner with the Gillinghams, and despite her evident tension, she was the perfect lady, prompting Lady Gillingham to remark to him, when Emilia stepped away, that she seemed to be quite demure, and to ask him if he was sure Emilia was the person best suited to his temperament. He laughed at the accuracy of her observations. Lady Gillingham was the closest thing he had to a mother, and she knew him better than almost anyone else, because she was such a keen observer of human behavior. His laughter made her study his face more closely.
“That laugh tells me that the young lady is more than meets the eye. Cedric, who have you got on your hands?”
“Just the sort of woman I prefer, my lady,” he said. “She is a delight, demure when it suits her, determined when she must be.”
The object of their discussion returned just then, and the matter was dropped, but the Duke caught Lady Gillingham closely watching Emilia from that point onward, and the smile of approval on her face at the end of the evening was further proof that he had made the right choice.
The drive back to Roxburgh Manor was made in silence. Eleanor was dozing, and Emilia was keeping herself awake probably so that she would not be vulnerable to anything the duke might wish to try. He smiled at the absurdity of the notion. He would never make an open show of his feelings or intentions until Emilia surrendered to him freely. He helped her down from the carriage after she roused his sister, and then helped Eleanor down as well, escorting them both back into the house. His sister declared herself ready for bed and bid them both a good night. Emilia turned to leave and he held her back with a hand at her elbow.
“Did you have a good time?” he asked.
“It was a pleasant evening,” she replied, forcing a smile.
“Which does not answer my question. Did you find the Gillinghams objectionable?”
She turned shocked eyes to his face. “Of course not! They are quite lovely people!” she protested.
“Then why do you hesitate to say how you enjoyed the evening?”
She avoided his gaze as she denied doing that. “I am not hesitating. I told you it was a pleasant evening. Ergo, I enjoyed myself.”
He studied her a moment before asking suddenly, “When would you like us to host the dinner party to announce our engagement?”
He saw the panic flare in her eyes, but she tamped it down and said, “I thought you said I needed to get to know you better?”
“Why do you fight against your feelings?” he asked, needing to shake her out of her reserve. “Why can you not admit that perhaps the idea of marrying me is not such a terrible thing after all?”
“I...I…”
He waited, but she did complete the statement. He felt a surge of triumph that she could not prevaricate. There was hope, after all. He let her go after that, knowing he would still need to watch her, but sensing that her defenses were almost all down.
Chapter 8
The next two weeks went by with little of note occurring, aside from a false notice of an impending birth. The doctor arrived to say the baby was still not in position to be born, and that Eleanor should be sure to keep taking her daily walks as exercise was essential for the baby’s birth to be as uneventful as possible. Emilia’s father sent her a brief missive hoping that all was well and that she had resigned herself to her fate.
Rather than giving up, however, Emilia had changed her tactics. Instead of trying to leave, she was trying to charm the Duke into changing his mind. She had never been very good at flirting, but she was learning, especially as they had been to two more dinner pa
rties, at which every unmarried woman in the place had tried to attract the Duke’s attention. She watched what they did, noted the things that made him smile, and when she could, or close enough to hear some of the things they said to him. Much of what was said was loaded with meaning that she had no reference for, and some of it she could not see herself saying to any man. Still, she had been trying to charm him, and she thought that it might be working.
She let her fingers linger on his arm a little longer than was strictly necessary when they danced. She leaned into his hand when he escorted her into or out of a room with his hand at her back. She complimented him on his attire, though that didn’t seem to have the desired effect. He seemed to find that amusing, so she had not tried it but the one time. When he paid her a compliment, she fluttered her eyelashes prettily, though it made her feel a complete fool to do so.
