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.”
Emma felt a fissure of jealousy at those words. She had grown up alone with a volatile father and a pushing, prodding mother. She’d often longed for a sibling to share her woes and her fun.
“It’s hard to picture Abernathe as a child,” she admitted. “He is such a…a man.”
The moment she said the words, she clapped a hand over her mouth and stared at Meg. But Meg didn’t seem to be offended by her overstep. In fact, she was laughing.
“He is a good pretender then,” she said when she’d regained her composure. “For sometimes I look at him and all I see is that same little boy who used to walk tightropes and play matador with the bulls in the paddock.”
Emma’s eyes went wide at that image. “So he was always a daredevil?”
Meg nodded. “There was never a wager he didn’t take. And somehow he always comes out unscathed.”
“Some people are golden,” Emma said with a shrug. “They never suffer.”
Meg’s laughter faded and her face became more serious. “Well, I wouldn’t say that,” she said softly.
There was something about her tone that made Emma cock her head in interest. The great Duke of Abernathe had suffered? The man who seemed to be able to do no wrong and led a gaggle of dukes? A gaggle seemed the best classification for a group of them.
It seemed unlikely. But then again, there was that hint of sadness in his eyes. The one she knew she wasn’t supposed to see.
“Your brother has been kind to me,” Emma admitted.
“Good,” Meg replied with a sly smile. “Then you’ll be happy to be sitting beside him at supper tonight.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “What? Oh Meg! You shouldn’t have!”
Meg drew back. “Why ever not?”
“Because Abernathe is the host and he is terribly important. Having the seat beside his at supper is a place of prestige. Everyone will whisper if a person like me has that spot of honor.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “You worry too much. And if people look and talk, isn’t that a good thing? You want interest, don’t you?”
Emma froze at that statement, so close to the very words she’d said to Abernathe in his garden in London not a week before. “Did…did Abernathe say something to you?”
“About what?” Meg asked, blinking in what appeared to be true confusion at the question and the sharpness with which it was asked.
“About me. My position,” Emma breathed. She’d spilled out so many things to him in that day. And then she’d made her ridiculous joke about him courting her to gain favor. Her cheeks flamed just thinking about it.
“He didn’t say anything to me,” Meg said gently.
Emma let out a sigh of relief. At least her humiliation wasn’t entirely complete. “Still, you shouldn’t have arranged for such a thing, Meg. Truly.”
“Your opposition is duly noted. Now I should go. I need to check on my mother and say a longer hello to a few other friends.” Meg moved to the door and there she smiled. “Oh, and you should know that I didn’t make the seating arrangements. He did.”
Emma stared at her in mute shock as Meg left with a bright farewell. Then she sank down on the nearest chair. Abernathe had insisted she be seated beside him? That was unexpected news, indeed. As was the thrill that worked through her at the notion.
One she would have to tamp down entirely before supper began.
James leaned back in his seat, ignoring what was left of the supper on his plate. He looked to his left, to Emma. She was looking at her food, but she wasn’t eating much, just pushing it around to make it look as if she’d eaten. But she was so focused on the act that it allowed him time to observe her.
In the week since she’d made her intriguing little joke about courting to garner attention, he’d done a bit of research into her and her family. What Graham had told him during their billiards game was just the beginning, for it was dark stuff. He found himself impressed by how little Emma reflected what she’d endured in either her words or actions.
But now he knew the truth and it made him examine her more closely. She wore fine gowns, not the finest, but definitely not inexpensive. And they had to take up a goodly amount of the funds she and her mother possessed, because he knew they had little money. Watching Emma, knowing how she felt about Society, he couldn’t believe that was her choice.
Which meant she was being dragged forward to a life of her mother’s choosing. Something he understood very well, if he replaced her mother with his father.
Emma was also known as something of a bluestocking. When the subject was broached, one gentleman had said something like “too smart for her own good or anyone else’s”. James supposed that was meant to put him off, but in truth it increased his interest. There was nothing he hated more than to spend time with some empty-headed chit. One who only mirrored his own opinions in some ridiculous attempt to get closer to him.
The one thing that no one talked about, which he noticed sitting next to her, was how pretty she was. Oh, she wasn’t showy. She didn’t try to be a diamond, not in word, action or look. But there was something about her that was undeniably attractive. And it wasn’t just her stunning eyes and full lips. She was just…pretty.
He leaned forward and lowered his voice so only she would be able to hear him. “You know, that poor cow was killed once already, Emma.”
She jerked her gaze to him, eyes suddenly wide as she stammered, “I-I beg your pardon, Your Grace.”
“I said the poor cow was already killed once and you are murdering it all over again by dragging it around your plate with that fork.”
She looked down at the tracks she’d made in her food and then back up to him. And to his great surprise and utter triumph, she smiled. It was a broad, utterly honest expression, and for a moment he could hardly breathe. Her entire face lit up with it and there he saw the diamond she never allowed herself to be.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, completely oblivious to his thoughts. “The food is wonderful, I’m just…”
She trailed off and he cocked his head. “Just?”
She ducked her chin. “Nervous,” she said so softly that he barely heard her.
“Why?” he pressed gently.
She lifted her gaze and met his, holding it there for a beat, then two. Until it became too long, until something heated flared low in his belly.
“Because of me?” he asked, his voice now rough.
She swallowed and he watched her delicate throat work with the action. “Yes,” she murmured, her own tone much lower and huskier.
“Abernathe?”
He jolted at the sound of his name, said loudly from the other end of the table where Meg was holding court. He jerked his gaze to her and found that virtually every eye at the table was focused on him. On Emma.
Emma seemed to recognize it too in that moment and she blushed as she ducked her head a second time.
“Yes?” he said.
“I said perhaps it’s time to end supper so everyone can ready for the ball.” Meg lifted both eyebrows as she stared first at him, then at Emma.
“Excellent notion,” he said, pushing to his feet. “Ladies and gentlemen, please join us in an hour in the ballroom.”
The others began to rise, their talking filling the room as they began to roam out in pairs or small groups. Emma took a long moment to stand and her hands shook as she placed her napkin on the table. James saw her mother waiting, attention focused entirely too closely on the pair of them. They only had a moment before she approached.
“Emma,” he said, barely resisting the urge to take her hand.
She glanced up at him. “Yes?”
“Will you walk with me in the garden?”
She blinked as if she didn’t understand the question. “Walk with you? Now?”
He nodded. “There’s an hour to the ball and I would have you back in time to get ready. Please, walk with me.”
Her lips parted and she whispered, “Why—”
But before she could finish whatever she was going to say, her mother rushed up to them, her eyes lit up with frenzied pleasure. “Yes! Of course she’ll walk with you, Your Grace.”
James pursed his lips, for he didn’t want Mrs. Liston’s acquiescence. He wanted Emma’s. Even though what he wished to discuss with her was little more than a business arrangement, he still wanted her…surrender.
A realization that put him a little off kilter.
“Is that a yes from you, Emma?” he asked.
She shot her mother a look and her cheeks were flame red as she nodded. “Of course, Your Grace. I would very much like that.”
He wasn’t certain if she was being honest with him in that statement, or just trying to appease her mother, who stood by them now, practically bouncing. Meg also stood near the exit, watching them with interest bright in her dark eyes.
In that moment, he didn’t care. He was going to get his way. And as he took her arm and led her from the dining room, he felt a thrill of excitement he hadn’t experienced for a long time.