Emmanuel got to his feet. “Good. My family and I shall expect you all on Friday.”
Lord Gefferton nodded. “Indeed, you shall.”
* * *
Isabella was not ashamed to have been lurking outside her father’s study, eavesdropping on his conversation with Emmanuel. She heard him tell her father that he wanted them to be family and her heart skipped a beat. He was not the first man to show interest in proposing to her but he was the first that she was excited about. She wanted this to work just as much as he did.
When her father agreed to the visit, she jumped up, racing to her room. There was so much to be done, so many things to pack. She had but three days to get ready. It was not much but it would have to do.
* * *
Emmanuel left for Helmsfield that same day. There was a lot to do to prepare for the Geffertons and he could not rely on his aunt and uncle to do it all. He arrived in the evening to a heavy downpour. He drew up at the courtyard and waited while the butler brought out an umbrella to lead him to the manor where his aunt was waiting with a hot toddy.
“Emmanuel, how nice to see you. It feels like forever since I saw you. You don’t write…why, I feel like you forgot about me completely!”
Emmanuel smiled, leaning forward to buss his aunt’s cheek. “Hello, Aunt. I am sorry for my reticence. I’ve been a little busy. But I am here now.”
“Yes, you are. And what about the Geffertons? When should we expect them?”
“Friday.”
“Ooh. It’s a good thing I didn’t wait for you to give me a specific date. We are quite ready to receive guests. Invitations have been written out for the neighbors, all we were waiting for was a date.”
“Invitations?”
“Yes, of course. To sup with us.”
“When exactly would you like to have this dinner party?”
“Well, how about Saturday night? That will give our guests enough time to settle in.”
“Very well, Aunt. I assume you have discussed the menu with the housekeeper already?”
Aunt Helen scoffed. “Please, Emmanuel, you should have let that woman go years ago. Retire her with a good pension. I know you value her but she’s really too old to be running a household.”
Emmanuel sighed. “You’re right. I suppose I just haven’t wanted to confront the reality of it.”
Aunt Helen moved closer, her eyes narrowed with concern, and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Oh, Emmanuel…I wish I could take this burden from you.”
Emmanuel shook his head. “No. It’s time I stopped burying my head in the sand. It has been nigh on four-and-ten years since they died, my denial has gone on long enough.”
Lady Helen squeezed his arm. “You were just a child—I do not know if you remember this but you did not speak for a year after that tragic time. We hardly knew what happened to you.”
Emmanuel both shook and nodded his head. “Aunt. May we not speak of this now?”
Her eyes went soft and contrite, bright with moisture. “Of course, Emmanuel. Whenever you’re ready.”
Emmanuel squeezed her hand. “After our guests have left, perhaps we can speak of it at last.”
Aunt Helen nodded, before turning and pulling Emmanuel along with her. “Now, you need to come with me. I have temporarily promoted the second housekeeper and given Mrs. Pinfield some much needed time off. She was most reluctant to leave but I assured her that she would be paid. I really think you ought to give her the cottage at the end of the lane and send her off with someone to watch her. She really is too old to be on her feet all day.”
“I understand Aunt. I shall have it taken care of.”
Lady Edric nodded. “Good. Now, come and see what we have done with the ballroom. I think that you shall like it…”
Emmanuel trailed after his aunt, a slightly pained smile on his face. He had no desire to view decorations but he knew there was no way he could escape to his quarters without at least having a look. Heaving a sigh of resignation, he reconciled himself to at least another sore hour in his prosthesis before he could take it off and lay down.
Emmanuel pinned a smile on his face and prepared to be suitably appreciative. It was good practice for the weekend. If he knew his aunt at all, she had probably invited everyone who lived within a carriage ride distance—and considering how rarely they had these dinner parties, every single one of them would probably attend, if only to gossip about it later.
Emmanuel tried to dismiss the uncharitable thoughts but he was too tired. He listened with half an ear as his aunt told him all about the décor changes and staff upgrades. Just as he was about to throw in the towel and beg her to let him go, his uncle came to his rescue, swooping in upon them in the gallery and leading Emmanuel away on some urgent pretext.
“Quick, go to your chambers now and do not emerge until the bell rings for dinner,” Lord Edric whispered urgently to him as they reached the foot of the stairs. Emmanuel squeezed his hand in thanks and climbed as fast as his sore leg would let him. He really loved his aunt and uncle, if only because they complemented each other so well. They were his model for long-married life and he hoped that one day, he too would save his son from a long-winded monologue from his mother in the kindest, gentlest, most loving way.
* * *
He was getting dizzy with the swaying of the carriage and was feeling more and more that if he did not alight from the vehicle, he would cast up his accounts right there on the seat. He reached out for his mother and she bent down, face concerned.
“Manu, honey? What’s the matter?”
Manu. What a strange thing to call him. He did not remember anyone ever shortening his name before. He found that he could not speak for fear of emptying the contents of his stomach into his mother’s lap.
“Are you feeling sick, Manu?”
Her voice was so soft, so troubled; he just wanted to reach out and soothe her while simultaneously basking in her love.
“I’m all right, Mama.”
Her hand came out, rifling gently through his hair, making him lean into her. He knew he shouldn’t. He was a big boy now, the next Duke. It was unseemly. But his mother didn’t seem to mind and so he would not stop.
An overwhelming sense of urgency assailed him; to take as much as he could before it was too late. He could feel his breath coming short, and tears fall from his eyes; fear spreading like a shadowed cloud throughout his body.
Just then, the carriage came to an abrupt stop, listing to one side and Emmanuel jackknifed up in bed, breathing hard as he looked around frantically, surprised to find that he was sitting on a soft feather mattress rather than the hard bench of a carriage.
“Where…what?” He looked down at himself, surprised to find that he was much taller than he had been minutes ago in his dream. His bum leg throbbed as if it had just been amputated. Strobes of pain shot from limb to head, almost blinding him with the agony of it. Tears fell unchecked down his cheeks.
It was disconcerting to have these memories assail him like this—for that was surely what they were. He had thought that he remembered what had happened with relative clarity but now he realized that he had forgotten or suppressed many of the events of that night. He could still feel his mother’s arms around him as if it had happened minutes ago rather than four-and-ten years.
Slowly, he shuffled out of bed, hopping on one leg towards his dresser where a bottle of port sat, courtesy of his valet. It helped with the pain, should it get bad during the night and Joseph always made sure to leave some out. Emmanuel could not understand why he would place it at the other end of the room, rather than on his bedside table. He lurched to a stop, using the dresser to support his weight as he grabbed the glass and filled it to the brim. He gulped it down in one go and then staggered back to his bed, panting. He closed his eyes, slowing his breathing with difficulty until his whole body was inhaling and exhaling in a slow, deep, rhythm. He felt calmer, and in less physical pain, although the loss of his mother still felt fresh and new
.
He lay back down, staring at the ceiling as he relieved it all again. He remembered details that he had thought lost to him. What his mother had been wearing that day—a canary yellow gown, with a bright red ruby shining from her bosom, her hands beringed. She had smelled of lavender and honey, her skin so soft against his cheek. His father, tall, like Emmanuel was now, and similarly bearded, had sat across from them, his face customarily stern.
Emmanuel felt the nagging pull of desire to make his father proud and the humiliation of always falling short—his upper lip trembling with fear instead of remaining stiff and impassive when the brigands came. The last time he had seen his father, Emmanuel had let him down. The crushing shame of that had never left him. It had simply been buried in years of denial and suppression.
Now it was all coming to the surface, probably thanks to the talk he had had with his aunt. He didn’t know whether to be angry or grateful. It was long past time he dealt with his angst and put it away, once and for all.
It was just tremendously inconvenient that these feelings were surfacing now, when he was preoccupied with welcoming guests to his dukedom for the first time since he had taken on the official title.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, let the breath out and then opened his eyes.
It’s going to be all right.
* * *
Helmsfield Manor had not been this festively adorned in years. Not since Emmanuel’s parents were alive. The theme of the decor was different since times had changed, flowers, candles, and chalk drawings were distributed in bursts of red, gold, and blue in honor of the Geffertons.
Hosting his bride-to-be’s family and holding a welcome party was a great honor, as Lady Edric insisted on telling him repeatedly during preparations.
“There will be no skulking in the library tonight, Emmanuel. You’ll be not only present but engaged and charming with our guests, and you know I mean through all the dancing, as well as dinner.”
Emmanuel shuffled about irritably. “Of course I will, Aunt. What do you take me for? I would not neglect Miss Addison in such a way.” He knew her warning was justified. He tended to disappear every time they had visitors. It was less tiresome than socializing and much less tedious than listening to gossip he was not interested in.
Lady Edric rewarded his impudence with a smack on the arm. “Just because you have a title does not mean you can be rude to me,” she sniffed. “Now, are you ready to receive your guests? They will be here any minute.”
Emmanuel sighed. “Aunt Helen, you should know that I am a grown man. So kindly treat me accordingly.”
Lady Edric lowered her chin and gazed at Emmanuel from beneath her quizzing glass. “I am perfectly aware that you’re an adult, Emmanuel. Whatever makes you think I don’t?”
Emmanuel sighed, exchanging looks with his uncle who was further down the hall. “It doesn’t hurt to get a reminder, Aunt.”
His aunt harrumphed, spun on her heel, and swayed away. His uncle shrugged at him before following his wife. Emmanuel was beginning to doubt he would survive the week.
* * *
For once, Isabella’s head wasn’t buried in a book. Her belly was too twisted with anxiety for her to concentrate. On the seat opposite, her mother was engrossed in her needlework, making a decorative sampler that she intended to give to Lady Edric. It was shaping up to be quite the beautiful rendition of a ruby. Isabella wished she could employ her mind in such a way as well but she was too agitated.
The journey had begun inauspiciously. The excitement of going on this visit had been tempered by the addition of Sarah, her husband, and her father’s steward to the party. She could not understand why they had to come along. Lord and Lady Peregrine had shown up, bags packed, in the morning, ready to travel.
“Father invited us,” Sarah declared.
“You don’t even like His Grace!” Isabella protested.
“Indeed, I do not.” Sarah took a step closer to Isabella, winding her left hand around Isabella’s elbow and squeezing gently. “But I like you.”
“Nonsense!” Isabella shouted just in time for her mother to come into the parlor and hear her.
“Isabella!”
“Sorry, Mama.”
Chapter 18
House Party
Now they sat on opposite sides of the carriage bench. Lord Peregrine, Mr. Chandler, and her father were following behind in a second coach.
Isabella sighed, casting jaundiced glances at her sister. There was no possibility that Sarah was not out to cause some mischief with her presence. While her mother looked calm and serene, Isabella could see the tension in her shoulders. She too was not happy about this sudden interest Sarah was taking in Isabella’s beau.
Their father, however, was in total support of Sarah’s inclusion in their party and so there was not much they could say about it at this point.
Isabella sighed, watching the countryside go by, appreciating the greenery and even the gray cast to the skies. It matched her mood perfectly; bright and eager with a cloud hanging over her in the form of Sarah.
She glanced over at her sister with narrowed eyes. Lady Gefferton cleared her throat loudly as if to stem any attempt at another argument. Sarah smirked and picked up her own embroidery, busying herself with needlework. Isabella rolled her eyes, picked up her book and tried to lose herself in St. Irvyne, or, the Rosicrucian.
They arrived at Helmsfield in the early afternoon to find a welcome party waiting at the front steps—the Duke together with Lord and Lady Edric surrounded by their house staff. Isabella’s heart quickened at the sight of him. It felt like a lot more than the four days since she had last seen him. He looked taller than she remembered, his beard shining as the light fell on it, highlighting the roan and the auburn interspersed in the brown. His blues eyes seemed to glitter, lighting up as they fell on her. Perhaps he has missed me as much as I have missed him.
Isabella smiled wide, almost standing in her seat before the carriage had come to a stop.
“Isabella, calm yourself and behave like the young lady you are, not some overeager flower girl.”
Isabella settled back down on her seat, squirming in embarrassment. “Yes, Mother.”
* * *
Emmanuel felt his heart speed up as the carriage carrying Isabella approached. It felt much longer than a few days since he had last seen her. He took a step forward only for his aunt’s hand to clamp over his wrist.
“You are a Duke, Emmanuel,” she hissed, “Act like it.”
Emmanuel barely suppressed the flush that wanted to suffuse his cheeks as he subsided, stiffening his spine and upper lip.
The carriages came to a stop in front of them. From the one at the back, three men emerged, the Viscount Gefferton, the Earl of Peregrine, and a third man not immediately familiar to Emmanuel. They went to the first carriage and opened the door, helping out the Viscountess Gefferton, Lady Peregrine, and finally, Isabella.
Emmanuel could not help straightening up further, or the smile on his face when he saw her. Judging by how her face lit up, she felt exactly the same. They got the pleasantries out of the way, Emmanuel murmuring the right words, he hoped. He could not really focus on anyone else aside from Isabella, who was staring at him from beneath her lashes with the slightest smile on her face.
He wondered when he could get her alone for a proper greeting. Sometimes he felt as if he could still feel the kiss they had shared burning on his lips.
“Your Grace, how nice to see you again,” Lady Peregrine had entered his field of vision, completely blocking her sister from view. Emmanuel frowned.
“I am happy to welcome you to my home,” he said and she continued to stand there expectantly so he sighed inwardly and extended his arm for her to take, leading her to the house. He could hear Lady Gefferton and Lady Edric twittering away excitedly.
Lady Peregrine was chattering away in his ear and he could hardly bring himself to pay attention, his focus mostly on Isabella who was being escorted
into the house by his Uncle Edric, just one step behind them. He seemed to be inquiring about her journey, if she was fatigued—her answer was too soft for him to hear. He strained his ears while trying to appear to still pay attention to what Lady Peregrine was saying. He flicked his eyes back to look at Isabella and his eyes fell on Lord Gefferton, his head close to the third man they had arrived with…they seemed to be having a very intense conversation.
Emmanuel frowned. There was something about Gefferton’s steward that filled him with cold and dread. He did not understand the feeling and chalked it off to nerves. They would have some refreshments and allow their guests to settle down in their quarters and he was sure by then that his nerves would have settled.
A Sinful Duke She Can't Refuse (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 15
