Scents of sweet jasmine, roses, and damp earth wafted in the surrounding air of Croxton House in London. The gardens were a masterpiece. Small fountains were situated centrally in circular clearings, while elaborately-trimmed hedges flanked various concealed benches and beds of exotic flowers. One could aimlessly wander in its confines for a breath of fresh air, or meet in a hidden corner for a tryst

Lady Emmeline Grant, sister of George, The Duke of Leverton, was certain that a couple was indulged in the latter activity, as soft murmurs and light giggles erupted in the bushes behind her. Shaking her head, she reasoned that it had to be a brave lady–or an incredibly foolish one–to carry out an affair under the keen scrutiny of the ton.

Emmeline merely had to wear an unpopular hue of a gown to cause them to shake their heads with ill-concealed disdain, making her subject to their barbs of how she constantly dismissed the rules of current fashion.

She, however, was personally satisfied, even though her current gown of gold was not at all fashionable for young debutantes. She had tired of the pale pastels that were deemed appropriate for her age. Despite the raised eyebrows and thinly-veiled comments, her dance card had been full.

Light giggles, deep male laughter, melodious music, and idle chatter echoed from the doors leading into the ballroom.

She walked to a bench near a fountain, closing her eyes as she leaned against the cool tree trunk behind her. Her feet ached from dancing with all the eligible bachelors her aunt had managed to introduce to her. She slipped the satin gold gloves off her arms and flexed her numb fingers.

It had been quite difficult escaping from her chaperone, her aunt, Lady Alford. It was not considered appropriate to be wandering alone in the gardens, but Emmeline had planned to meet her friend Ann there and was extremely tired of tolerating the nonsensical social chatter in the ballroom beyond.

“One would expect to find a male companion with you in the gardens, My Lady.”

The voice was a pleasant deep baritone, causing her tired senses to jar awake–as she knew that voice, but despised it.

Emmeline opened her eyes to pinpoint the carrier. The voice belonged to a tall man, who was leaning against a tree to her right. His form was barely visible in the faint moonlight, but the fiery point of a lit cigar waving in the air anchored him to the spot.

She wondered whether she should walk to another area of the garden, for she craved solitude and was not in for another bout of jousting with this particular man–Noah, the Duke of Newberry. “One would expect to find some relief from social chatter in the confines of a garden,” Emmeline said huffily.

The boy she had met twelve years ago on her estate had grown to a man, with hair that seemed to be ever windswept, and dark gray eyes that had taken on a mocking light whenever the two met.

When she was younger, Emmeline had not known or cared about the feud between her family and Newberry’s. In fact, she still didn’t care much for it–it was Noah that aggravated her nerves.

The man was much too…smug for her liking. Having been educated at Oxford, and a professed bibliophile, the Duke had become the bane to her existence whenever they met in London, even as she did her best to ignore him.

He, however, made sure to notice and aggravate her. The two had met at an assembly in London, three months after a prior meet. He had snidely quoted from Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, pushing Emmeline into the position of playing Beatrice to his Benedick by his recitation, “What, my dear Lady Disdain, are you yet living?”

Bristling with anger, Emmeline had replied, quoting from the same play, “Is it possible Disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signor Fitzroy? Courtesy itself must convert to Didain if you come in her presence.”

Emmeline never quite understood her standing with this man as, truly, she didn’t know much of men. She did know, however, that when she was within ten feet of him her insides would start to flutter.

At the age of twenty, she had almost been labeled past marriageable age, and a bluestocking. Her previous season was at the age of eight-and-ten when her father had been alive. He had succumbed to influenza mere months after her coming out. His death had coincided with the Duke of Newberry going off to Paris for a year.

Now, however, with the stabilization of the dukedom, her brother George, the Duke of Leverton, was resolute in arranging a season to find her a suitable husband.

“And what might you be escaping from, Lady Emmeline? Some unsuitable suitors perhaps, or is the wine not to your liking?” the Duke asked. “My Lady, you will not find relief from any of that anywhere in London, unless you decide to run to Scotland.”

What is his aim with that suggestion? To aggravate me? Emmeline wondered crossly.

“That sounds much more appealing than being in your company,” Emmeline suggested, annoyed.

He chuckled and after crushing the cigar, departed. She saw a flicker of dark hair and an aristocratic face as he walked away from her without a word. She knew she had been a tad rude, but she had craved silence to think and plan her next move.

It was known that Croxton House, the homestead of Viscount Croxton, who had shared the same inquisitive passions as her father, housed rare medieval volumes, and modern books on science, theology, and exoteric cultures, and Emmeline was set on examining them.

Her friend Ann had not yet arrived in the gardens, and it would not do well for her reputation, to be waiting outside for long. She needed to return inside, but not to the ballroom, to the library. She attempted to walk unnoticed to the spiral stairs, however, her aunt, Lady Alford, spotted her and was making her way towards her, so Emmeline fled.

Bypassing the first set of stairs, she rushed to the second spiral staircase at the farther end of the hall and climbed to the next floor. Two carved oak doors indicated the entrance to the library, and, as Emmeline walked in, she let out a breath.

It was a relief that the hinges were well-oiled, for she did not wish to alert anyone of her presence with a noisome squeak. The lack of people was very much welcome, and soothing for Emmeline’s jarred nerves. She could not bear to be introduced to another eligible bachelor that evening.

Aunt Catherine’s London townhouse had become a prison for Emmeline. She was scrutinized all day, by the gentlemen whom called upon her every morning to demand her company, either for a carriage ride into Hyde Park, or for tea at her Aunt’s home.

Accustomed to a solitary life at her country manor, Emmeline detested being exposed to innumerable social demands. Her brother, on the contrary, enjoyed the entertainment offered by London–he was seen often in gaming halls and privileged gentleman’s clubs.

George also possibly enjoys the company of women of questionable character, Emmeline thought darkly. But he’d have me married off immediately to a wealthy titled man, while he does as he pleases.

Emmeline knew that it was hardly fitting to be wandering into a library unaccompanied by her friend or aunt, but if someone came upon her, she could always make an excuse–flimsy as it was–of looking for the retiring room.

However, examining the room was irresistible for her. She focused on the magnificent library before her. It was apparent, by the beautifully-carved staircase to the enclave above, that Lord Croxton indulged in books. Unceremoniously discarding her filmy gold shawl, Emmeline lifted her skirts with one hand and began climbing the delicate stairway.

Noah, the Duke of Newberry, after rejoining the ballroom, had observed the spectacle before him with great amusement and a bit of dislike. This tableau reminded him why he had avoided theses soirees and balls for years. Unable to accept the pretentiousness and frivolities, he had steered far from social events unless requested by a lady he was pursuing. Thus, he sought solitude in the library, waiting for his friend, Henry, to join him.

It was hardly surprising that he would have met Lady Emmeline Grant in the garden, but he was surprised to see her there in the library. He silently watched her as she dumped her shawl on a chair, not even sparing him a glance, and then he realized that she was possibly in pursuit of a specific book.

It struck him that she did not find him outstanding enough to be noticed, as he reclined in a chair near the fireplace

Emmeline was a…perplexity to him. He remembered that day on her lawns like it was yesterday–how he had slipped from his Uncle’s supervision to go discover his surroundings.

He remembered seeing the young girl, the ends of her dark blue dress marked with grass stains, with a concentrated frown on her face as she was about to capture the firefly. Now that young child was a grown lady with a mind he respected and a temper that taunted him.

Looking at her as she ascended the stairs, he saw an inappropriate amount of ankle clad in delicate stockings. Noah’s eyebrows rocketed to his hair as he pondered on the beauty of her trim limbs.

Suddenly, she tripped on the hem of her gown.

Muttering an oath, Noah launched himself up from his seat, mere meters from the staircase, and dashed to Emmeline’s rescue, hoping he could catch her before she broke her neck. He was almost too late. She had nearly fallen on her back when Noah’s arms enclosed her around her narrow waist.

“Heavens!” she cried softly.

A flowery aroma emanated from her hair, which smelled extremely pleasant to Noah. “Are you aiming to break your neck, My Lady?” he asked, his voice harsh as a whip.

She recoiled from his words, and seeing her flinch, let go of her. She turned around, her tawny eyes widening in surprise before dimming. “Of course not, Your Grace, I have no intention of giving you that pleasure.”

This close, Noah drank in the sight of her. Emmeline did not possess all the classical features of the aristocracy. Her cheekbones weren’t arched, and her skin wasn’t as pale as alabaster, but her changeable eyes, straight nose, and plump lips were intriguing–especially the indentation in her right cheek that was visible as she spoke.

“A thank you would have sufficed,” Noah replied while pulling his hands away.

The two stood in stifled silence with Emmeline’s body stiff and her gaze wary, before Noah uttered, “I will not hurt you, you know. A gentleman does not hurt ladies.”

He took pleasure in seeing her widened eyes, as he had uttered the same words, he had said on their first meeting. This time, his words had a stronger meaning.

“Won’t you?” Emmeline replied in a soft tone–one Noah had never heard from her. “In the past, you have taken great pains to see me aggravated.”

Noah stepped back, “I was young, and a bit foolish. You might not believe me, but I taunted you because you were one of the very few who I knew could contest me in a battle of wits…Cherie.”

He took pleasure in the way Emmeline swallowed daintily, and in seeing the soft blush on her face. He knew it wasn’t proper to address her that way, but he couldn’t resist. “What, no playful slap with your fan, My Lady?” he asked sardonically.

Mirth filled her eyes, but her lips only twitched. “A fan! I cannot find the use for such frivolous things, Your Grace.”

He grinned. “I believe you are the only lady I have seen lately without one.”

She looked away from him. “There is a subtle language of fans, Your Grace, one which I was never fluent in. I have abused their power too many times.”

“I see,” he said mildly. “Did it just so happen to strike those who you disliked?”

“Why, that is most astute,” she affirmed with her lips now in a small smile. “It pleased itself to assault those who were a complete cad to me.”

Noah could not help himself from snorting, “Then it is a providence that you left it behind this time, My Lady, or I would be marked all over.”

“I suppose. Although, other items, such as a reticule loaded with pebbles, can be used for such purpose.” The dimple flashed in her cheek again. “The harder material would surely injure the target.”

They stood for a moment in a strange but light silence. Lady Emmeline then cleared her throat. “Well, I suppose I should resume surveying the books.”

“Of course. Is there one, in particular, you were looking for?” Noah asked while dragging his eyes from her face.

“I cannot say. I mainly read books to amuse myself,” she responded. “Although, I am quite interested in astronomy and philosophy.”

Noah’s eyebrows arched, “You certainly have unique interests, My Lady. Not many ladies engage in the sciences.”

“You should know that I am not like most ladies,” Emmeline replied swiftly, before her face reddened slightly. Noah assumed that she hadn’t meant to say those words, but he was inordinately charmed.

“No, you are not.” Noah replied, “Have you ever studied physics?”

“Besides my governess, my father taught me advanced mathematics, and some elements of physics, along with entomology and some biology. He believed in conveying his vast knowledge, you see,” she told him.

You really are unique, thought Noah. “How about learning the pianoforte, drawing, and singing?” he asked, knowing those were the subjects taught to ‘finish’ young ladies.

She delicately wrinkled her nose—a gesture Noah thought was even more charming. “Though I despise the pianoforte, I succeeded in mastering it. However, as for art, I suppose I could draw a straight line.”

Noah’s lips twitched.

“This is…surprisingly…not uncomfortable,” Emmeline stated. “Considering that you have been a rear end of a horse to me for years.”

“And I had prided myself in being so,” he added. “Because I discovered the reason for your brother’s behavior soon after our first meeting.”

She stared at him for a minute. “I did not catch a firefly again,” she blurted.

“Good,” he said, while turning away. Her golden eyes were setting off something strange in his chest and he had to look away just to breathe.

“Will you suggest a book to me, Your Grace?” she called at his back.

“For studying physics, My Lady?” Noah dared to ask, as his chest had barely regulated itself.

“Well, yes, but please be certain it is not too complicated,” she requested, slightly abashed. Noah wasn’t sure if she was extending an olive branch to him, but if it was, he wasn’t going to let it fall to the ground. “I am not a dunce when it comes to attaining knowledge, but physics is something I have trouble understanding at times.”

“Most men find it difficult, also,” Noah commented.

“Are you saying that ladies are less intelligent?” she demanded.

He chuckled. Emmeline, you never fail to defend the causes of your gender.

“Do you consider yourself an original, Cherie?” Ladies who did not always follow social norms were considered Originals. Some took it as a compliment while others despised it.

Emmeline bristled and Noah mentally grinned. “First of all, Your Grace,” she emphasized sternly, “it is not appropriate that you address me thus. You, of course, are aware of this more than I.”

“Indeed, I am, My Lady.” The Duke grinned like a scamp. “I apologize for my inappropriate behavior. I have no excuse except that my bad habits from the past are hard to drop.”

“Well, I should be affronted,” she said thoughtfully. “You know I would not want you or any other gentleman to think he can take such liberties.”

Noah inclined his head. “I have gotten too used to certain…type of company. I hope you accept my apology.”

Emmeline nodded, “It is quite all right, Your Grace.”

Noah couldn’t help but notice the bewitching golden color her eyes were, and how they elegantly matched the lovely dull-gold gown she wore. From the little he knew of the current social trends, the color of her gown was out of favor. It appeared Emmeline had a unique style of her own, that suited her personality.

Is she exhausted from the social confines of the ton…and would she thrive after receiving the liberty of marriage? Noah wondered.

As he stood silently observing her, Noah dimly noticed how she shivered under his scrutiny. He tore his eyes away from her and glanced at his pocket watch. “I am afraid I have to leave.”

Emmeline smiled. “Despite our family rivalry…and our meetings in the past, Your Grace…it was a pleasure meeting you–the real you.”

“The pleasure is mine, My Lady.” He truly meant his words. “Perhaps we can let this…peace between us grow upon further meetings? You do not have to answer now–I’m sure you’ll tell me on those occasions.”

After providing the name of the book, Noah stood at the base of the stairs, watching her as she perused the shelves, and felt soft pleasure when she gave a gasp of delight on finding it. Bowing to her with an exaggerated flourish and a cocky smirk, Noah left the library in much higher spirits than he had entered it.

He thought how he would have missed the encounter if it were not for Viscount Croxton’s insistence on attending the event.

Emmeline…how you have changed.

With surprising dismay, Emmeline watched the Duke leave. She had enjoyed herself immensely for the first time since she had set foot on the Croxton property.

A small part of her wanted to think that she had seen a similar emotion in his eyes but, perhaps she had merely become fanciful of late–a consequence of reading all those Gothic novels.

It was a wonderful shock seeing Noah–and though she knew it was proper to call him by his title, in her mind he would always be Noah–and felt a strange resurgence of intrigue for him. The boy she had met once and the youth she had debated with thrice, were all miles apart from the man she had just had a civil conversation with.

The moment he had touched her had sparked something under her skin, but it wasn’t only his appearance. Noah’s tall and broad-shouldered figure was impressive and intimidating.

His face was a sculpture of hard aristocratic lines, and his hair the definition of rakish. In all, he was an attractive package, but the one thing that Emmeline liked about him was his sharp wit–he kept up with her. Yes, he aggravated her by doing so, but he kept up with her.

The Duke was significantly distinguishable from the brightly-colored dandies in the ballroom below. For some strange reason, many of the gentlemen preferred shockingly bright colors–vivid reds and garish greens, looking more like peacocks and parrots than men.

George would be most displeased if he heard of this encounter, she decided as she held the book. But why do I feel like this is not the last I’ll be seeing of the Duke of Newberry?