Читать книгу A Regency Duchess's Awakening: The Shy Duchess / To Kiss a Count - Amanda McCabe, Amanda McCabe - Страница 13

“Je suis, il est, elle est, nous sommes, vous êtes. Oh! Is that quite right, Miss Carroll? I’m just not sure.”

Emily pulled herself back to the present moment, listening to her pupil Sally recite her French verbs in the school room at Mrs Goddard’s, only to find she was biting her thumbnail again and heard scarcely two words out of ten. She still seemed to be back on the dark pathway at Vauxhall.

She quickly curled her thumb into her fist and gave Sally a reassuring smile. “Yes, that is exactly right. You’ve made amazing progress, Sally.”

But Sally wasn’t fooled. She peered closely at Emily with those brown eyes so much older and harder than her twenty years. When she first came to Mrs Goddard’s, her hair was tinted a bright red-orange and her accent was harsh and thick. Now, with the curls back to a light brown and her voice carefully modulated to a soft pitch, clad in plain, pale muslin gowns, she seemed much like any respectable young lady. She worked tremendously hard to better herself, had a kind way with the younger girls, and was Emily’s best and brightest student.

But still Emily often had the sense that Sally knew so much more than she herself ever would.

“You aren’t ill today, are you, Miss Carroll?”

“No, no. A bit tired, that is all.”

“And no wonder, miss! I’m sure there are parties every night,” Sally said with a laugh. “Dancing and card playing and such.”

“I wish there were not,” Emily muttered. “They are quite dull.”

“Dull, miss? Surely not.” Sally twirled her pencil thoughtfully between her fingers. “Aren’t those toff parties meant to help you find a suitor?”

Emily had to laugh, too. “So my mother says. Yet I have not found them especially helpful.”

“Miss Carroll! Surely you have a suitor. Lots of them, I would wager, with your looks. Why, if you were at my old place at Mother Logan’s you would have made a fortune!” Sally suddenly clapped her hand over her mouth, her cheeks turning pink. Emily would have thought Sally could never blush. “Oh, I never meant to say that! Forgive me, miss.”

Emily laughed harder. “Nothing to forgive, Sally. I just fear a ‘toff’ ballroom requires more than a pretty face. A dowry and some conversation help, too.”

“Well, isn’t there at least someone you might like? Just a little bit?”

Emily studied Sally’s face for a moment, those knowing eyes. She did so long to confide in someone about the duke, to ask advice from a woman who might be able to help. She could not ask her mother or Amy, of course. Nor could she ask Jane. Much as she liked her friend, Jane was a bit prone to over-excitement when it came to romantic affairs, and she was something of a gossip. Besides which, she probably did not know much more than Emily herself.

But Sally would know. And she would never tell.

“May I ask you something in confidence, Sally?” Emily whispered.

“Of course, Miss Carroll.” Sally leaned closer, her own voice soft. “I’ll help you in any way I can. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”

“I am not entirely ignorant, you understand. I read and I hear things. I’ve even been kissed, a few times anyway. But …”

Emily feared Sally must be laughing at her, her own experience was so much greater than anything Emily would ever possess. But Sally merely gazed back at her solemnly. “Yes, miss?”

“Does it mean something when a man kisses a woman’s—foot?” Emily whispered. “I have never heard of such a thing before. Is it an—odd thing to do?” It had certainly felt most odd, and wonderfully pleasant, when Nicholas kissed her foot and caressed her ankle. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

Sally’s eyes widened. “Did a man do that to you, miss? At a ball?”

“No, not exactly.” Emily took a deep breath and told her the whole story. Well, not the whole story, of course—she did not tell her Nicholas’s identity or quite how much punch she had drunk. But it was all enough that by the end Emily’s cheeks were very hot indeed.

“Cor!” Sally breathed, her fine new accent lost. “You mean he did all that not knowing who you were?” Emily nodded miserably.

“But he didn’t—finish?” Sally said. “He didn’t force you into anything?”

“No! He stopped the instant I told him to, and made sure I returned to my friends. He thought I didn’t see him watching me go, but I did.”

“Amazing. I never met a man who could do that.” Sally’s gaze sharpened again. “You wouldn’t want to tell me who he is, would you, Miss Carroll? I know a lot about more men of the ton than you would think.”

“I really should not.” Though Emily was horribly tempted to know what rumours there might be about the duke that she would not know, rumours among the darker denizens of London. But what if there was something there, something really dreadful? Did she truly want to know?

“Well, he sounds like a real gentleman to me, miss,” said Sally. “Unique, I would even say. You shouldn’t let him go.”

How could she let something go when it was not hers? When it was not meant to be hers at all?

Emily left Mrs Goddard’s even more confused than when she arrived, if such a thing was possible. She made her way back to the more respectable part of town with Mary trailing behind her, hardly seeing where she was going.

Until a fine carriage rolled to a stop beside her, an open barouche painted in glossy black with a gold-and-green crest on the door. The coachman drew in the matched black horses, and a man leaned out to sweep off his hat to her. The sunlight caught on his bright hair, and she saw to her shock it was the Duke of Manning himself, conjured up by her daydreams.

“Good day, Lady Emily,” he said. “Out for a bit of shopping?”

“Er … yes, your Grace,” she answered, then realised neither she nor Mary carried any packages. “Though I did not find what I was looking for, I fear. We were just on our way home.”

“Is that so? Then may I offer you a ride back to your house? It seems quite a long walk from here,” he said.

A ride in his carriage? Sitting close together? Emily was not at all sure that was a good idea. It was obvious from Vauxhall that sometimes she had trouble controlling her hidden wanton tendencies. Not that she would jump on him in an open carriage for everyone to see, but.

Well, one just never knew what might happen. The more time he spent with her the more likely he was to discover she was the woman in the black wig. And she would never want him to know that. She was determined to keep her secret, and how could she do that if she was always with him?

She glanced back down the street, but there was no help forthcoming there. And Mary looked at her pleadingly, as if she longed to cease walking.

Emily sighed. There was simply no escape. She would just have to be as careful and circumspect as possible. The ride would not last for ever.

“Thank you, your Grace,” she said. “That is very kind of you.”

Nicholas immediately swung open the carriage door and leaped down, not even waiting for a footman, and held out his hand to help her up, his hand strong on hers. Mary was ensconced next to the driver on the box as Emily settled herself carefully on the velvet cushions. It was a remarkably fine vehicle, much lovelier and more comfortable than her parents’ ancient, lumbering berlin. As they moved smoothly down the street there were no bumps or jolts at all, and as she ran her gloved fingertips over the plush upholstery, she could almost see why her family wanted her to marry a duke. He probably had dozens of vehicles like this one.

Not that fine carriages were any excuse for something as serious as marriage. Emily peeked at Nicholas from beneath the brim of her bonnet to find him watching her closely, his eyes an even brighter blue in the daylight. A handsome face was no excuse, either, even though his was so extraordinarily handsome.

And he kissed so very, very well.

Emily curled her fists hard against that fine velvet, trying to think sensibly again. “It is very kind of you, your Grace,” she said carefully.

“I was going in that direction, Lady Emily, and it would have been very rude to let a lady walk such a distance,” he said. Strangely, he sounded equally careful. “It was the least I could do after the great kindness your mother showed me today.”

Alarm bells rang in Emily’s mind. The duke had met with her mother? “Kindness?”

“Yes. She invited me to your dinner party.”

“Dinner party?” Emily said dumbly, feeling rather like Jane’s mother’s trained parrot. They were having a party? Had she simply been too distracted to notice any preparations or invitations going out? Or was this some new scheme of her family’s?

Nicholas frowned. “You are not aware of the event, Lady Emily?”

Emily curled her hands even tighter to resist the urge to bite her thumbnail—or tear her hair out. If this was some sort of scheme, he could never find out! “Oh, my mother and my sister-in-law are in charge of our family’s social engagements. They seldom require my assistance, which is good since I am so forgetful. Of course you are more than welcome at our dinner party, your Grace. But surely you are very busy. I hope you would feel no obligation to accept if you have a previous engagement.”

“Not at all. I am very happy to accept. A small dinner with friends will be most welcome after so many large balls.”

And so many amorous encounters at Vauxhall? To cover her blush, Emily turned to look out at the passing street. That was almost worse, though, as everyone they passed stopped in their tracks to watch the carriage with the ducal crest go by. They would all see it was Lady Emily Carroll riding with the Duke of Manning, which would give her mother even more fuel for her matchmaking fire.

“Are you sorry the Season will end soon, your Grace? “ she said. “No more parties or gatherings.”

“I’m looking forward to going to the country. There’s much work to be done at my estate. And if I do find a sudden craving for town, I can always return. There always seems to be a few interesting people around, no matter what time of year.”

“That is true. And if you were here, there would suddenly be many more.”

Nicholas laughed. “All the more reason to stay in the country, I think. Do you prefer town, Lady Emily?”

“Not at all. I like the quiet of the country, being able to walk and read and do whatever I like.” Though she feared this particular country sojourn at Moreby Park would be longer than most, after her parents’ disappointment over her failed Season. She might not be able to leave again.

And this might be one of the last times she saw the duke, too. The cold wave of disappointment at that thought was most disconcerting.

“You’re able to walk there without bossy dukes insisting on driving you home?” he said with a teasing smile.

Emily had to smile, too. She never could be solemn around him for very long. It simply felt too good when she was with him. “It is a very different, and much more pleasant, thing to walk in the country.”

“So it is.”

“And will your family join you at your estate?”

“Not this year. My sister Charlotte and her husband are at his estate at Derrington, waiting for their baby to arrive, and my other sisters are travelling with their husbands. My brother Lord Stephen will be returning to his own estate soon. It will be terribly quiet for me, I fear.”

Emily could hardly imagine him without his noisy, energetic family. They seemed such a part of him—and yet another reason a match between him and her would be a bad idea.

The carriage drew to a smooth halt at the doorstep of her home. She thought she glimpsed her mother’s face at one of the upstairs windows, but then there was only a swaying curtain.

Nicholas stepped down and held out his hand to help her alight. She stared at it for a second, unsure if she should take it. She had proved over and over she was not in her right mind when he touched her.

A bitter little smile touched the corner of his mouth. “It won’t turn into a snake and bite you, Lady Emily, I promise.”

Feeling even more foolish, she took his hand and let him lead her to the pavement. Even through their gloves she could feel the hard strength, the heat of his touch, and she remembered what his bare hand felt like on her skin.

He held on to her for a moment after she stepped to the pavement. “You see,” he whispered in her ear. “Quite safe.”

That she did not agree with at all. She swallowed hard past the sudden dry lump in her throat. “Thank you for the ride in your carriage, your Grace,” she said quickly, before she lost her breath. “I look forward to seeing you at our—our dinner party.” Whenever that impromptu event might be.

“I look forward to it as well.”

She peered up at him, trying to detect any signs of sarcasm that might be lurking there. Any hint that he might know it was she at Vauxhall and was merely toying with her. He smiled back at her, all smooth politeness—just as he always was with her.

She knew she should feel quite reassured, safe with her guilty secret, but she did not. She only felt more nervous, more uncertain, than she ever had before. That little, nagging hint of disquiet simply would not leave her alone.

The front door swung open, and for a second Emily feared it was her mother, coming to urge the duke to stay for tea. But it was the butler, with no trace of any of her pesky relatives lurking behind him. They were there somewhere, though, watching. She just knew it.

“Thank you again, your Grace,” she said quickly.

“Good day.”

“Good day, Lady Emily,” he answered. He looked as if he would say something more, but Emily hurried up the steps and into the doubtful safety of the house. Only once the door was shut behind her and she heard the carriage rolling away did she relax, slumping against the nearest pier table.

“I should be happy,” she whispered. She had discovered her own strength—she could be around him without leaping on him in lust, or bursting into flames from blushing. She could keep secrets when she had to. It had all gone rather well, considering, and now she had her first meeting with the duke after their little encounter out of the way.

Why, then, did she feel like such a wretched ninny?

“Emily, dearest, there you are!” her mother sang out. Emily glanced up to find her hurrying down the stairs, all wreathed in smiles and fluttering cap ribbons. “I see I don’t have to ask if you had a good outing.”

Emily turned away from her mother to the looking glass hung over the table. Avoiding her own eyes, she untied her bonnet and stripped off her gloves. The thin kid still seemed to smell like him. “It was quite all right, I suppose, though I found nothing at the shops.”

“But you did not have to walk home, you sly girl,” her mother said, just a hair short of crowing. “I never thought I would see my daughter arrive home in a ducal carriage! I do hope Lady Verney across the street saw. She has been so boastful of her daughter’s betrothal to a mere viscount.”

“Mama, it was a ride that lasted all of ten minutes, in an open carriage covered with servants, including Mary,” Emily said. “Not a betrothal or an affair of any kind.” She spun around and hurried into the drawing room, where the maids were laying out the tea things by the fire.

Her mother followed at her heels. “Well, it is a very good sign. You should have invited him in for refreshments. Your papa is in his library, as usual, but I am sure he would have enjoyed saying hello to the duke.”

“I would have thought a dinner party would be quite enough for him,” Emily said, plumping down in her chair. “Mama, why did you not tell me we are having a dinner?”

Her mother sat down across from her, still with that maddening expression of satisfaction on her face, even as she tried to hide it by fussing with the teapot. “It was rather last minute, my dear. An impromptu way to say goodbye to our friends before we are buried in the country.”

“Impromptu when you met the duke and waylaid him outside the shops?”

“Not at all! Really, Emily, you are becoming quite cynical and suspicious. It is not becoming; it will cause wrinkles.” She reached into her sewing box and drew out a sheaf of papers. “Amy and I have been working on the menu. Do you think the duke likes lamb with mint and rosemary sauce? He did seem to enjoy something similar at Welbourne Manor last summer, but I am not sure it is quite the thing now. And we will have to bring in desserts from Gunter’s, of course. Cook is all very well with plain dishes, but not with the puddings. I’m not certain what to do about flowers. Pink roses? You do look lovely with pink, Emily, but lilies are fashionable.”

Emily sighed and poured herself a very strong cup of tea. She certainly needed every fortification she could find, as there was no stopping her mother now. Not when she started to speak about lilies. She smiled and listened to her mother’s plans, knowing that her family needed her help.