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.
“Excellent,” 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.”
“Certainly your brothers must do the same,” he said. “It is our prerogative, you know.”
She shook her head slowly. “I have no brothers, Your Grace.”
“Ah, I see,” he said with a grin. “Sisters, then. Poor girl.”
She laughed and the small smile became a larger one. James could hardly breathe at the sight of it. Good Lord, that wide expression transformed her into something entirely lovely.
“It is just me, I’m afraid.”
He moved another step closer. “Would you like to walk with me?”
The moment he asked the question, he drew back a fraction. Why had he done that?
Emma hesitated and her gaze slid to the doors to the house. James wondered at that beat of reluctance. Most women would have none. He knew a match with him was considered valuable. Especially for a woman in Emma’s position.
“You—you needn’t trouble yourself,” she said at last.
He tilted his head. “It is no trouble, Miss Liston. It would be a pleasure.” He held out his arm. “Please.”
“And what about your sister? She’ll be back any moment and she expects me to be here.”
He smiled. “Meg won’t fly into a rage, I assure you. And she’ll be able to see us from the terrace. I’m certain she’ll simply catch up to us and the two of you can carry on with your walk.”
She hesitated again, and he was fascinated by the fact that her reluctance made him want her acceptance all the more. Finally she nodded, and it was like he’d won a prize as she took his arm and allowed him to guide her to the stairs that led down to the garden.
She was quiet as they moved toward the pathway through the garden and he said, “It is rare for a family to be so small. No brothers or sisters.”
He thought he saw a brief shadow cross her face, and then she said, “Well, my parents were not blessed with more than one child. Your family is little better, though, isn’t it? With all your talk of brothers and sisters, it is only you and Meg.”
He nodded. “Yes, I suppose that is true. I sometimes forget.”
She laughed as she glanced up at him. “You forget you have no other siblings? That is a fairly large thing to forget, my lord.”
He smiled at her teasing. Once again, he was struck by how unlikely it was that another lady of his acquaintance would do the same. They were so often grasping to make an impression, to make a match.
Emma was different. And he found that inspired candor in him that he might not have had with another person.
“I suppose I forget because I have such a tight circle of friends,” he explained. “The 1797 Club.”
She blinked. “The 1797 Club? I’m not aware of it.”
“It is incredibly exclusive,” he said, motioning her to a bench that overlooked the fountain in the middle of the garden. She took a place and he sat beside her, suddenly aware of how close their knees were as he spoke.
“So exclusive that it feels like family?” she asked, seemingly oblivious to his thoughts.
“They are my brothers. We formed the little group when we were boys.”
“In 1797,” she teased. “At the ripe old age of…what? Twelve?”
“Fourteen,” he corrected with a nod. “You see, I needed help as I moved toward inheritance of my dukedom. And we formed a group of all of us who would take that same level of title so we could assist each other.”
“And how many are you?” she asked.
“Ten, including myself,” he said.
She smiled once more, this time gentle and understanding. “Then you have a very large family after all. And that is a lucky and rare thing.”
“Yes.”
“Is the Duke of Northfield one of those in your group?” she asked.
“He and the Duke of Crestwood were my closest friends as a boy. Together we came up with the idea of the club and it grew over the years that followed.”
“And now Northfield will marry Meg,” she said. “And become your brother in truth.”
“Yes. I admit that was part of the draw of matching them,” he said.
“But everyone says you will never marry. Of course, likely I won’t either. But for different reasons. Yours is a choice and mine—”
With a gasp, she stopped talking. Her eyes went wide and she slapped a hand over her mouth, her gaze flitting over to him and going wide and wild.
Emma wanted nothing more than to sink down under the bench where they sat and disappear for the rest of her life. She had no idea why she had lost control of her tongue. She and Abernathe had been sitting together, having a perfectly lovely conversation. Comfortable, aside from the fact that she couldn’t stop contemplating how utterly handsome he was.
And then she’d gone and burst out something inappropriate about his lack of desire for marriage. About her own lack of ability to marry. She was an absolute idiot.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she said when she could find enough breath to speak. “That was entirely out of turn.”
He was quiet a moment, then he said, “Emma, we were having an honest conversation. I don’t mind having an honest conversation with you. But you cannot truly believe that you will never marry.”
She pushed to her feet and walked toward the fountain, her hands clenched at her sides. “This is really none of your concern. I forgot myself for a moment. There is nothing else to say.”
He followed her forward. “Emma.”
She stiffened. That was the third time he’d called her by her given name. She shouldn’t like it so much. She should correct him.
She opened her mouth to do so when he pierced her with a hard look and asked, “Why do you think you will never marry?”
She gasped for air, for words, and he reached out. Suddenly he had her hand in his. She wasn’t wearing gloves, having taken them off for lunch. Neither was he. His skin was rough on hers, his hand a shade darker as it engulfed her own.
“Not everyone is golden,” she whispered, her voice almost not her own. Her words coming when she didn’t want them to. “I am an old maid, with little to recommend me thanks to…” She trailed off.
“Thanks to?” he encouraged, his dark eyes still intently focused on her. Like he actually gave a damn about the answer.
And for a moment she pondered giving it to him. Pondered spilling out every painful fact of her past and her own fractured family to him. But she caught herself before she could. Whatever spell she was under with this man, she wasn’t about to talk about her father with him and give him a reason to laugh at her.
“I’m a spinster and a wallflower,” she said, pulling her hand away from his at last and wishing she couldn’t still feel the warmth of it. “There is no other reason than that which precludes many women like me from marrying. My mother insists I must wed, of course, to increase our circumstances. She drives me toward it constantly. But it isn’t as easy as just waving my hand and having men fall at my feet.”
He shook his head slowly. “It’s a funny thing. Here I am trying to avoid a marriage trap and you wish to land in one.”
“Yes,” she said, then covered her face. “God, I feel like such a fool.”
“Why?” he said with a laugh.
She lowered her hands and glared at him. “Really? You ask that question of me?”
His joviality faded at her pointed question. “I’m sorry if I was glib,” he said, true chagrin on his face. “You helped my sister, helped me. Is there some way I can help you?”
“Pretend to court me in order to make me attractive to some other man?” she said, then shook her head with a laugh. “No, my lord. There is nothing you can do, though I do thank you for your concern.”
His brow wrinkled, and for a moment she thought he might say something. But then Meg’s voice came drifting over the garden. “James, I was going to show her the fountain!”
James took a long step back from her, and Emma found herself a little colder now that he was gone. Whatever seriousness had been on his face faded, and he turned to his sister with a bright grin. “Well, I beat you to it.”
Meg swatted his arm playfully. “You never allow me any boon.”
“I’m sorry, Meg,” he said. “I shall leave you to your friend.” He turned back to Emma with a nod. “Miss Liston, it was a great pleasure.”
There was sincerity to his tone and to his expression as he nodded at her. Emma gulped hard and said, “Thank you for your company, Your Grace. Good day.”
“Good day,” he repeated, then strode off toward the house. Leaving Emma with Meg.
Leaving Emma with a sense of discomfort and a mind full of questions.