“Lady Emma, it is my great displeasure to present to you Simon, The Duke of Kettering.” His mother announced from the doorway.
Simon watched as the young woman’s cheeks flushed in a delicate pink. It took her three seconds to realize what she’d done, and she lowered the saber to her side. “I-I…” Her voice trembled.
He stared, wondering why there was an unexplainable ache in his body similar to the time he’d hit puberty and realized just how pretty women were, but this was different, somehow.
Clearing his throat, he stepped forward, composing himself. “If you don’t mind, I’ll relieve you of this.” He held out his hand and without hesitation, she placed the saber in his palm. He closed his fingers around the handle enjoying its warmth from her touch.
Returning the blade safely to the scabbard, he turned back to Emma who gave him a deep curtsey.
And then he did something without thinking of the consequences.
He gently cupped her elbow, straightened her, then led her further into the room. Much to his wonderment, his mother followed, frowning.
“Your Grace, please accept my humble apology for threatening you and holding you at the end of a blade.”
“There’s no need for an apology as I’m as much to blame as you are for failing to inform you who I was when we first met.”
“I agree. I feel as if I was at a serious disadvantage,” Emma mumbled.
“If you both have your wits about you—” the duchess said, “—which I doubt you do Simon, shall we retire to my parlor? We can discuss something which has not only concerned myself, but Emma as well, for the longest of time.”
Chapter Two
Simon offered his mother his arm, to which she shook her head. He was a bit taken aback. He peered at her with a raised brow, wondering why she refused his assistance.
“Son, considering what Lady Emma has just experienced, I do believe she is in more need of your aid than I,” the duchess declared.
Never one to question his mother’s direction, Simon turned to the lady in question and reached for her hand. No sooner had they touched than he felt a tingle rush through him, until finally settling below his stomach. This was something huge, considering all the ladies of the ton he’d been with before. None of them had ever come close to erupting such an emotion within him.
Glancing down at her, he took in her beauty.
Confusion swept across her delicate features. Her eyes reflected his internal turmoil.
“Shall we, m’ lady?” he asked.
Her bottom lip trembled. “Yes, I do believe we shall.”
With his mother in the lead, Simon and Emma followed, an awkward silence between them. He suspected she was still embarrassed from coming very close to running him through with his late father’s saber. He certainly was still reeling from the prickles of heat gusting through him.
As they neared the duchess’ parlor, he sensed Emma’s apprehension about something when she stumbled slightly. Reacting without thought, he wrapped an arm around her waist, about to pick her up when she sent him a stabbing glare.
“Don’t even think about it. I’m perfectly capable of walking,” Emma declared.
“Lady Emma, I feared you might faint, that’s all.”
“Well, I didn’t. I’m fine now, so you may remove your hand from me.”
Considering the disgruntled tone in her voice, Simon knew he’d best do as ordered before she decided to go back into his office and grab the saber again. He chuckled and released her, finding her feisty nature intriguing. He wondered if she feared anything, even himself.
The last thing he needed was to be in the parlor with two strong, assertive women—his mother and now her companion. Emma stepped ahead allowing him to watch the hypnotic sway of her skirt. Running a hand over his jaw Simon forced his lungs to work. This wasn’t good—not one bit. He knew.
Dragging his mind back on track, he studied the room and noticed that like with the office, it hadn’t changed. His mother’s favorite green velvet settee still sat in front of a low mahogany table. Two deeply padded chairs, covered in the same material as the divan, were angled inward so anyone using them would be included in the conversation.
The fireplace cove had a stack of logs in it but wasn’t lit. Over the hearth, the marble mantel held a gold bejewelled clock. His father had brought it back from the continent while on his Grand Tour. On either side of the fireside, small, round oak tables each held a vase filled with fresh flowers.
The walls were covered with landscape paintings done by his mother, but there was a new addition to the collection. A river setting. He recognized the scene as it was located here at the ducal park. As the duchess never painted water, she claimed to make a mess of the lines, Simon wondered who had done it. He wanted to ask, but decided not at this time as he saw Emma still wasn’t pleased with him, for whatever reason.
On the opposite wall stood his mother’s writing desk, the one which she’d brought with her when she married his father. The only other piece of furniture, if it could be called that, was the wooden rocking horse he used to ride on when she’d sneak him away from his nanny.
The only difference he saw were the magazines on a side table. They were opened to fashion plates. He knew his mother wasn’t interested in the latest trends. She had a dressmaker who kept her dressed in the best, so he assumed they belonged to Emma.
“Simon, why don’t you take a seat? Emma can order tea for us. Unless you’d prefer something stronger?”
He was surprised at hearing the duchess use his and Emma’s Christian names. To the best of his recollection, she’d never been this casual in the presence of company. This warned him that his mother had taken Emma under her wing.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
He took one of the chairs opposite Emma with a secret intent. He wanted to continue to study this most fascinating and intriguing lady. If she’d managed to establish herself as his mother’s confidant, then he needed to get to know her better and to make sure her intentions were pure. And, he hoped, the conversation would progress into a question that had been bothering him since his mother had written him about his father’s death. What caused the healthy man to pass? If it was the last thing Simon did, he’d find out what and who ended his father’s life, so suddenly.
“Son, as you can tell I’ve made a few changes with the footman after the duke passed.”
“Yes, I was wondering why there wasn’t one at my office door and here too, but only at both ends of the corridor.”
“With them guarding the office and here, both Emma and I felt we couldn’t relax and talk about private matters. As you’re well aware, word can easily get below stairs, and neither of us desired for that to happen.”
“It took a great deal of convincing for Winston to make the changes,” Emma added, with a smile.
Simon had always been a little uncomfortable with staff standing within earshot, and he was happy that had changed. “I have a question—”
“Laura, mayhap you might allow me to answer Simon’s question as from the expression on his face, I believe I know what it is,” Emma interjected.
“Please.”
“That’s not what I was going to ask.”
“Oh?” She lifted a thin brow.
“I did wonder how this level of…,” he chose his words carefully “comfort came to be.”
“This change was your mother’s suggestion, with the codicil that we don’t use Christian names in front of the staff. We have found that conversation flows much more naturally. If you wish, Your Grace, while in your presence I shall not be as forward as to use yours or your mother’s name, but I do give you permission to call me Emma.”
Simon was about to speak when Winston, carrying a tea tray, with Mrs. Lee following stepped into the parlor.
“Lady Emma shall pour,” Laura told the butler.
“And as His Grace has returned, I made sure Cook sent up two plates of her famous raspberry tarts. It seems Lady Emma has take
n a liking to them,” the housekeeper declared.
Now, he was truly happy to see that his old nursemaid still looked after and was concerned for him.
“Why Mrs. Lee, I didn’t know you cared?” he teased.
“My only concern is to make sure Lady Emma is well taken care of. If I had my way you’d be sent to the nursery and have children’s tea.”
Hearing a gasp from Emma at the way the housekeeper was talking made Simon smile. Of course she didn’t know the special attachment he and Mrs. Lee had.
“My dear, Lady Emma, our beloved, at least by me, housekeeper used to be Simon’s nanny. As such she knows more secrets about him and what he did growing up than I or the late duke were ever privy to. As such, Mrs. Lee will tell us everything if he, even now as the duke, doesn’t toe the line,” the duchess explained.
“And that includes not taking all the raspberry tarts, thus the extra plate,” the housekeeper professed, curtsied, then followed Winston out.
“Ladies, earlier before I was, how should I say this, interestingly introduced to Emma,” he paused and nodded to her, “I was reading letters from several of my different managers. Now I know, Mother, you’ve always taken an interest in the estate.”
“Yes, Simon. When Emma and I learned of the possibility of improving the flour yield we looked into it further. What we found proved interesting, and we were contemplating on going forward with the plan. That is to reroute the stream and put in a second, finer set of stones. Now with you here we can turn the project over to you,” his mother told him.
“Emma, you’ve been involved with this from the start?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then I feel you and I should continue together on the improvements. Tomorrow we can ride out and inspect the stream bed and talk with the miller.”
“That would be all well and good, except, I don’t ride.”
For him this had to be a first. Every young lady he’d met, or had been thrust into his arms, knew how to sit a horse even at a walk. This he would have to correct immediately or he’d go mad sitting beside her in a cart.
“The mill is on the far side of town and considering we have to go through it, we’ll stop at my mother’s dressmaker. You’ll have a riding habit or two ordered. When they’re ready riding lessons will commence,” he ordered.
“Í should point out horses do tend to frighten me a little,” she told him.
“Then, we’ll take it slowly, and I’ll have Richmond select a gentle mare for you,” he declared.
“Wonderful. Now that we have that settled, Simon, pass me your cup, and I’ll pour you another,” his mother stated.
“With your permission, I’ll have a whiskey.”
“Yes. Would you ring for Winston, please?” she directed her son.
While they waited for the butler to deliver the order, Simon asked about the tenant visits Emma had made. He was happy to hear everyone was doing as well as could be expected, especially the elderly residents.
“Oh and the Gibbs family added another son to their brood. They hadn’t named him so when I informed them you were returning they immediately said he’d be called Simon after you,” Emma proudly stated.
This didn’t surprise him as many of the boys born under his father, Philip being the duke, were so named while the girls Laura, after his mother.
“Besides the mill are there any other, even minor, problems I need to be made aware of?” he said.
“Not at this time. Until your father took to his sick bed he was able to handle everything. That was when I sent my dearest friend Lady Sarah Carringham a letter inquiring if Emma would care to join me as my companion. As they’d both only come out of mourning over the loss of the viscount, I was pleased that Emma agreed,” Laura explained.
Emma nodded. “After my father had a stroke, Mother spent most of her time caring for him, which left me managing the small estate. My mother and Laura have been very close for years. When I found that I had questions regarding the ins and outs of estate business, I didn’t want to tire my mother with the details. The duchess was kind enough to be of assistance. When I learned of your father’s…” she cleared her throat, “well, I was grateful that your mother entrusted me as her companion.”
Simon was glad he was learning more about the situation, and was becoming comfortable that Emma hadn’t forced herself into the position.
“Emma, do you know if your father might have an untitled estate she may retire to?” Simon asked.
“Unfortunately, she doesn’t. The viscount only had the one. With no son to take up the title everything will revert to the Crown.”
Simon glanced to his mother then back to Emma. He knew a touch of formality would be needed for what he was about to say, and he sent a smile to the duchess who returned it. He stood and bowed to Emma.
“Lady Emma Carringham, I humbly request you pen a letter to the viscountess. In it inform the gracious lady that I have a comfortable estate in Crossingham. She and any staff who wish to accompany her are more than welcome to reside there for as long as they desire. She only needs to make sure the estate and lands are well maintained and continue to bring in a comfortable income.” Simon retook his seat and waited for Emma’s reaction, but it wasn’t her who spoke first.
“Yes, my dear, and what makes it so lovely is that it’s only a half day carriage ride from here. For years I’ve tried to find the perfect lady to manage it, and when your father passed had already thought of Sarah.”
He held his breath and carefully watched as Emma sat quietly. When she smiled, he knew at least this problem had been resolved, except, would Lady Sarah accept the proposal?
“I’ll send her a letter tonight informing her of your kind offer, which I’m sure she will accept. We should hear from mother if the roads remain travelable by the end of next week.”
“Simon if I might make a suggestion? As the Carringham estate is only a two-day ride, why not send a groom, well mounted, to deliver the letter. As we don’t know when the Crown will take the property, I feel the sooner we act the better,” his mother recommended.
“I was thinking along those same lines, but it really is up to Emma.” Simon turned and looked to her.
“Yes, I agree.”
The clock on the mantel struck six times.
“Mother, as you can see I’ve put on a stone or two so I don’t know if the coats and trousers will fit. If they don’t, then I’ll dine in my suite and meet you both later here as I’ve a few more questions which need answering.”
“Simon, that is totally unacceptable. I’ve waited for over two years for you to dine with me. If your jackets don’t fit, then tomorrow while Emma is being fitted for a habit, get at least one or two ordered from the tailor. For tonight a clean shirt and cravat will suit.” His mother left no room for argument.
“Very well. I will do as you request. Shall I escort you and Emma upstairs so we may prepare for dinner? I’ve looked forward to Cook’s meals for two years. On that, I wonder what will be presented to us tonight?”
“As we were not expecting you for several more days, if memory serves, dinner will be simple. Not the home welcoming meal planned,” Laura said.
The looks Simon saw shared between his mother and Emma had him pondering if what she’d told him was true or not.
An hour later, dressed in a clean shirt and with a properly tied cravat, Simon stepped into the duchess’s parlor. There he was met by Winston who frowned as he wasn’t properly dressed.
“Do you know when the ladies will be down?”
“Your Grace, we’re right behind you,” his mother declared.
Turning, he could feel his jaw drop open at the heavenly sight before him. Emma’s hair was layered with several loose strands framing her face. The gown, a light green, fit her to perfection showing him every line and curve. It ended in a medium length train, which seemed to float when she glided into the room.
“Your Grace, m’ lady, I don’t know which of you is the most bea
utiful,” he smartly said, giving them each a bow.
Simon waited until they were settled on the same settee as before. Now he could ask the one question that had been bothering him since he’d received the post from his mother regarding his father’s death.
“As much as I wish to learn about my father’s passing, with dinner being served soon and the answers long, it can wait. Emma, did you have time to write to your mother?”
“Yes I did, and Laura made a suggestion. If she accepts your kind offer, would it be possible to have several large wagons sent to help with the moving of her belongings? She has delicate pieces of furniture along with statues and paintings. I know she’ll want to take those with her.”
“I don’t believe that should be a problem, and I have already looked into it. Before bathing and changing, I was able to spend a few minutes with Richmond. He told me it wouldn’t be an inconvenience as the drays won’t be needed for at least three months when it’s harvest time.”
“That will be wonderful, and I’ve the letter with me as I’m not sure who to give it to?”
“Emma, if you’ll give it to me, I’ll get it to Richmond who has already selected the two grooms to deliver it. They have a letter over my signature which will allow them to stay in a lodge. Also, one to introduce them to your mother’s butler.”
He waited while she withdrew the missive from her reticule and handed it over. Fingers brushing. He hadn’t expected the sudden warmth extending up his arm. From the pink tinge crawling across her cheeks, he suspected Emma experienced the same emotion.
“Your Graces and m’ lady, dinner is set,” Winston announced.
Simon was grateful for the interruption since he had become tongue-tied. He’d never been this taken before not only by Emma’s beauty, but also her strength. Gathering his senses, he stood, first offering his hand to his mother, who shook her head. Glancing to Emma, he held out his palm, hoping he wouldn’t get a second rejection. She accepted his assistance.
Chapter Three
The Duke's Bride (The Radcliffe Family Book 1) Page 2
