Читать книгу The Shy Duchess - Amanda McCabe, Amanda McCabe - Страница 11

“Look, Emily! It’s Manning House. Isn’t it lovely?” Jane cried, gesturing at the vast mansion as their carriage bounced past. “Like a palace in a fairy story.”

Emily laughed as she studied the gleaming windows, laid out like endless rows of diamonds in white stone expressly to show off wealth great enough to counter any window tax. She remembered a line she learned once in lessons on Tudor history—’Hardwick Hall, more glass than wall.’ Somehow, it was hard to imagine the duke living there in that chilly mausoleum.

“If the fairy story is about the Snow Queen, bringing down winter from her mountain fortress,” she said. “It looks mightily uncomfortable.”

“But excellent for grand balls,” Jane declared, her gaze still fastened on the house. “Can’t you just imagine being the hostess of such a gathering? Being a duchess?”

“I can imagine it,” Emily said, still laughing. “It sounds horrid. Everyone staring all the time, everyone pestering for invitations to those grand balls …”

“Exactly! The Duchess of Manning would utterly rule society. She could set every fashion. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Jane sighed deeply, glancing back over her shoulder as they turned a corner and Manning House disappeared from view.

Emily’s laughter faded, a sneaking suspicion setting in as she studied her friend’s narrowed eyes. “Jane, have you set your cap at the Duke of Manning?”

“Oh, la, no!” Jane cried. The brief glint of calculation faded as she giggled. She straightened her feathered bonnet on her auburn curls and sat back against the carriage cushions. “I’m not such a fool as that. I’m too harum-scarum to ever be duchess material. That’s your department, Em.”

“Mine?” Emily said, shocked. “Of course not. I would make a wretched duchess.”

“Nonsense. You seem born to royalty, with your looks and your quiet grace. And since there is no eligible prince at present, a duke would be the next best thing. Especially one as handsome as Manning.” Jane leaned closer and whispered, “Don’t his blue eyes just make you want to melt?”

Well—they did, actually. Whenever he looked at Emily she longed to sink down through the floor, robbed of any powers of speech she might once have possessed. But she would never admit that, not even to Jane. Not even to herself.

“He is quite fine-looking,” she said carefully.

“Fine-looking?” Jane scoffed. “He is a veritable Greek god. My parents would be in alt if I could catch him, of course, but it would never happen. I shall have to settle for some country baronet, I suppose, like William Jameson. He seems on the verge of making an offer. What about you?”

Emily laughed. “I’m not in the least bit interested in Sir William!”

“Certainly not, who would be? That nose! But there must be someone you like?” “No, there’s no one.” “I cannot believe that.”

“Believe it, my dear Jane. I have met no one this Season I could be really fond of. Perhaps I shall have to find a country squire, too. Maybe a nice curate?”

She spoke in jest, but really a curate would be just right. An earnest, sincere young man who would read to her by the fire in the evenings. Who would ask for her help with his sermons, and praise her charity work in the neighbourhood and never grab her suddenly as Mr Lofton had. It would be perfect—if he had a roguish smile like the duke …

Emily gave her head a hard shake. “That is what I need.”

“A curate? Your parents would never allow it. You are the beautiful daughter of an earl!”

The shy daughter of an impoverished earl. “We’ll see what happens.”

The carriage turned through the gates of Hyde Park, joining the flow of vehicles and horses parading for the fashionable hour. “Don’t worry, Em, the Season is not done yet. We have time to find someone better than the Sir Williams of the world,” Jane said. She reached into her reticule and drew out a small square of vellum. “Maybe here?”

“What is that, Jane? Some sort of love letter?”

Jane giggled. “No, silly! Tickets to a masked ball at Vauxhall. My sister, Mrs Barnes, procured them for me, and she has agreed to chaperon us there. She’s terribly easy to distract, though—she won’t get in the way of our fun.”

“Vauxhall?” Despite herself, Emily was terribly intrigued. She had heard of the infamous masked balls held in the pleasure gardens, of romantic assignations in dark walkways and glorious illuminations that transformed the night. She had laughed at some of the wilder tales, sure they could not be true.

But—what if they were true? What if she went and saw them for herself?

She glanced down at the tickets. A concert by Signora Rastrelli, they read in scrolling script. Fireworks and illuminations grander than anything yet seen in London!

Music, fireworks. It did sound wondrous. But … “Jane, I’m not sure we should.”

“We’ll be wearing masks ! No one will even know we’re there.”

“My parents would never allow it.”

“Then just tell them you’re staying with me at my sister’s house that night. Tell them—oh, I don’t know! That her relation, a curate, has come to visit and has promised to read us some fine sermons.”

Emily laughed, torn between her duty and the promise of a little fun. Surely an evening of music could not be harmful? She didn’t plan to go off along the Dark Walk, after all.

Something deep inside of her, some tiny, terrible imp of mischief that seldom dared show itself, pushed at her. Go on, it whispered, soft and alluring. Be a little daring. What harm could it do? You have been working so hard.

But it could do a great deal of harm, she feared. Yet still the temptation was there.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think—”

“Good afternoon, ladies!” someone called, interrupting her words. “Very pleasant weather we’re having, are we not?”

Emily looked up to see Mr George Rayburn approaching on his horse. He had been the only suitor to really appear this Season, dancing with her at her first ball and being attentive since then. He sent flowers, fetched her lemonade at parties, things of that nature—if that could really be called a suitor. He had not made an offer, and her parents would have refused him anyway. His fortune was respectable enough, from all reports, but he had no title.

Now, though, at the end of the Season, if he were to come forward, they might be more amenable. If Emily liked him, she could probably persuade them Mr Ray-burn was a reasonable match.

He drew in his horse next to their carriage and tipped his hat, smiling down at them. She should like him, Emily thought as she smiled back at him. He was terribly handsome, with waving, glossy dark hair and hazel eyes, a strong jaw and straight nose. He was tall and lean, athletic, much admired. He read poetry, had travelled widely, had correct opinions and impeccable manners.

And he did seem to like her. He wasn’t put off by her shyness or her lack of dancing skills. Why could she not really like him? Perhaps it was that way he had of looking at her.

But maybe she was wrong. Everyone else seemed charmed by him, even Jane. Her friend held out her hand to Mr Rayburn with a happy trill of laughter.

“Mr Rayburn! We have not seen you out and about this week,” Jane said.

“I fear I had to attend some business on my estate that could not wait,” he answered. He seemed to speak to Jane, but his gaze lingered on Emily. “I am sure I could not have been much missed in all the flurry of the end of the Season.”

“Oh, but I vow you were!” Jane said. “There were not enough gentlemen to dance with at Lady Orman’s, were there, Emily?”

Emily smiled, remembering how she herself had not danced at all, no matter how many men there were. “No, I suppose there weren’t. No gentlemen who were good dancers, anyway.”

Mr Rayburn arched his brow. “You think me a good dancer, Lady Emily?”

“You managed to avoid getting your foot stomped on when we danced, Mr Rayburn, and you prevented me from tripping more than once. To me, that makes you an expert.”

“I am glad I impressed you with something, Lady Emily,” he answered.

Jane glanced between the two of them, her head tilted as if she puzzled something out. “Shall we all walk for a bit? I feel in need of some exercise.”

Emily nodded eagerly. Perhaps if they were walking, in the midst of the crowd, she could more easily avoid Mr Rayburn’s steady hazel stare. He did always seem to watch her, expect something from her when she could not fathom what it was. She only knew it made her feel fidgety, uncomfortable—and not in the same way the Duke of Manning did.

They left the carriage and set out along one of the pedestrian pathways. Emily loved coming to the park in the mornings, when the walkways were sparsely filled with nannies out with their charges and footmen walking the employers’ dogs. She loved watching the children with their hoops and dolls, enjoying the light and fresh air, the freedom. It made her yearn for the day when she would have a child of her own to walk with in the park, to love and nurture. But the park was such a very different place late in the afternoon, when it was taken over by stylishly dressed society figures, intent on seeing and being seen.

A couple, laughing raucously together, brushed past, jostling Emily. She stumbled, and Mr Rayburn caught her arm in a hard grasp.

“Are you quite all right, Lady Emily?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Emily said. She tried to ease her arm away, but he held on, leading her along the pathway to a more open spot.

“It is shockingly crowded today,” Jane declared, quite as if it wasn’t exactly this crowded every day. “How fortunate we have you to protect us, Mr Rayburn.”

“And how fortunate I am to escort two such lovely ladies. I’m the envy of every man here,” Mr Rayburn answered with a charming smile. “Now, Miss Thornton, Lady Emily, perhaps you could tell me all I missed while I was sadly away from town. Was Lady Orman’s as great a crush as everyone predicted?”

“Oh, even more so!” Jane said. “One could scarcely even move without being trod upon.”

As her friend chattered on about the ball, Emily half-listened, her mind drifting away from the gossip, the crowded park, even from Mr Rayburn’s clasp still on her arm. She thought of next week’s planned lesson at Mrs Goddard’s, her favourite pupil Sally who showed such promise and how well they were all progressing. They needed more challenging material in their lessons to keep up with them. Perhaps she could teach them a bit of Italian? Some of them might even be able to go for governesses soon.

She was so distracted by her plans she didn’t notice the tree root in her path until she tripped right over it.

“Oh!” she cried, as pain shot through her thin halfboot and up her foot. Mr Rayburn’s hand tightened on her arm, holding her upright yet again. “Thank you, Mr Rayburn. You are very kind.”

“It is entirely my pleasure, Lady Emily,” he said hoarsely, staring into her eyes. “You do seem to need someone to look after you.”

A sudden jolt of anger sizzled through her, and she finally shook her arm free of his touch. That was exactly what she did not want any longer, people always telling her where to go and what to do! “Looking after” always seemed to mean “telling what to do”. She never got to do what she wanted, or to make up her own mind about anything.

“Thank you for your assistance, Mr Rayburn. I am very well now.” Emily hurried ahead of Jane and Mr Rayburn, not knowing where she was going, only that she had to get away and shake free of that sudden, unaccountable anger. It made her feel ridiculously out of control.

She found herself near the Serpentine, its banks lined with yet more people, laughing, talking, seemingly so very pleasant and light-hearted. Underneath, though, Emily knew they were always watching, always— judging.

She walked on at a slower pace, making herself smile politely. Jane and Mr Rayburn followed her, still chattering together about that blasted ball.

In the distance, just at the edge of the clearing near the river, Emily glimpsed the Duke of Manning himself, seated on a white horse that contrasted dramatically with his well-cut dark blue coat and fine doeskin breeches. She stopped short, nearly tripping yet again as she stared in sudden dazzlement.

She just couldn’t seem to help herself. It was as if all the light of the day gathered directly on him, and he was all shimmering gold.

She remembered myths of Apollo, called “Ever Bright” by the Muses, and she was sure this was what they meant. Despite the swirling crowds, he appeared to be alone in a glowing pool of serenity and light. He wore no hat, and his golden hair was windblown, falling over his brow and the collar of his fine coat. He held the reins lightly in one gloved hand, answering greetings with a faint smile on his face.

It was almost as if he was bemused to find himself in such a cacophonous scene.

“Whatever is Manning doing here?” she heard Mr Rayburn say behind her. “No one in his family ever deigns to come among the crowds here.”

Emily could not blame him for that. If she was a duchess, she would never do what she didn’t want to, either. But why was he here? She had never seen him in the park before.

“Should we say hello to him?” Jane asked. She sounded uncharacteristically indecisive. Jane always seemed to know exactly what she should do.

“And stand in line with everyone else eager to pay court? I don’t think so,” Mr Rayburn said dismissively. He took Jane’s arm and the two of them turned away. “I thought we were going to walk. Lady Emily?”

“Yes, of course,” Emily said. She started to turn away, as well, to follow them back down the path. To her astonishment, though, the duke caught sight of her and smiled.

He tugged on his horse’s reins and headed straight toward her.

“My goodness ! The Duke of Manning is coming here,” Jane cried.

“So he is,” Mr Rayburn muttered. Emily looked back at him just in time to catch a glimpse of a frown on his face, before it was covered in his usual sociable, practised smile. It seemed perhaps he did not much care for the Duke of Manning.

Emily wondered if he knew something the rest of society did not. Otherwise she could not account for such a reaction. What could it be?

“I think—oh, my!” Jane said. “I think he means to talk to us.”

And indeed he did. He reined in his horse right next to Emily and politely nodded to her, smiling. “Good afternoon, Lady Emily. I trust you have recovered from the dreadful crush of the Orman ball?” he said. His smile widened, more of a grin really, wide and white and full of gentle, teasing humour. As if they shared some secret, as if he remembered all too well when she slipped on the stairs and fell into his arms.

A hot blush touched her cheeks, and she ducked her head to try to hide under her bonnet’s straw brim. “I am quite recovered, thank you, your Grace,” she said with a curtsy. “Though I am definitely enjoying the fresh air today much more!”

He laughed, and shifted easily in his saddle, as if he was born on horseback. He looked so right there, Emily thought, comfortable and elegantly powerful, while she was terrified of the huge beasts.

Horses, of course—not dukes. Though she was also rather terrified of him, when he looked at her so intently, as if he was seeing her for the first time. It was a very different sort of terror than that she felt when Mr Lofton grabbed her in the garden, though. It was a temptation inside her own heart.

“I definitely agree with you on that, Lady Emily,” he said. “A sunny day outdoors is much to be preferred.”

Jane gave a delicate cough, and Emily suddenly recalled that she was not, in fact, alone at the park with the duke. “Your Grace, I believe you know my friends, Miss Thornton and Mr Rayburn?”

“Of course I do. How do you do, Miss Thornton, Mr Rayburn? “ he said.

“Very well indeed, your Grace,” Jane said cheerfully. “We were just going for a stroll. Perhaps you would care to join us?”

Emily shot Jane a hard glance, but Jane blithely ignored her. What if she said something foolish to him as he walked right beside her, or, heaven forbid, tripped and fell again?

“I would be happy to join you,” he said. “If you are sure I would not be intruding on your confidences?”

“The path is rather narrow for four, your Grace,” Mr Rayburn said in a hard voice.

Jane tugged sharply at his arm. “Nonsense! Every party is merrier with more, and there is plenty of room near the river. You and I shall just walk ahead, Mr Ray-burn, and his Grace can walk with Lady Emily.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” the duke said. He dismounted and handed the reins over to his groom before offering Emily his arm. Jane had already fulfilled her promise—or threat—and led Mr Rayburn ahead. She tossed a triumphant smile back over her shoulder at Emily.

Emily had no choice. She slid her gloved fingers into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to walk beside her along the path. The other strollers watched them avidly as they went by, but she tried her hardest to ignore them. She watched the path under her feet, wary of every possible obstacle waiting to trip her.

The gossip she would just have to worry about later.

“I hope I am not interrupting important confidences between you and your friends, Lady Emily,” he said quietly.

She glanced up at him, then wished she had not. His eyes really were terribly, terribly blue. “No, of course not, your Grace. Miss Thornton and I were able to confide on the way here. And Mr Rayburn is—well, he is not that sort of friend.”

“Perhaps he is more of a suitor than a friend?” he said teasingly.

But Emily was not accustomed to being teased. She felt that blush flame even hotter. “I—no, of course not.

I just—I. No.”

“Forgive me, Lady Emily. I am so used to teasing my sisters and cousins about their admirers I sometimes forget how to behave in polite society.”

His family—of course. What a prig he must think her after them. “Mr Rayburn does not admire me, your Grace.”

“Does he not? Very foolish of him, I would say.”

“I …” She hardly knew how to answer that. She could scarcely say she actually had no admirers to be teased about, by him or anyone! “How is your family, your Grace? I have not seen any of them since that house party at Welbourne Manor last summer.”

“All disgustingly healthy, thank you. My sister Charlotte is expecting her first child very soon.”

“Indeed?” Emily was astonished. She remembered Charlotte Fitzmanning, with her wild hair and untidy gowns, always with a pack of pug dogs at her heels. Emily knew she had married Andrew Bassington soon after that party, of course—and now she was to be a mother. She would have her very own family. Emily couldn’t help but envy her for that.

“You must send her my best wishes, your Grace,” she said. “Are you hoping for a niece or a nephew?”

“Either, as long as the child—and my sister—are healthy.” He glanced towards the sun-dappled, blue-green river, where children sailed their toy boats and laughed in innocent delight. A shadow seemed to pass over his eyes, and he frowned.

“I am sure they will both be quite safe,” Emily said softly. “Your sister did seem to have a most robust constitution.”

That strange shadow lifted from his face, and he laughed. “That she does. I already have one niece, little Katherine, my sister Justine’s child. I am sure she would like a little girl for her playmate.”

“I should like to have a niece, too,” she said. She gestured toward a pretty, tiny redhead toddling by the water’s edge as her nurse flirted with a footman nearby. The child waved her hands and laughed in sheer pleasure. “Perhaps one like that girl?”

“A fine choice, Lady Emily.” He led her again along the path, closer to the river. “I do hope you are quite well after the ball? That fall you took …”

A group of children ran across the path in front of them, distracting her and making her laugh. “It was nothing at all, your Grace. I fear it could have been worse, though, if you had not been there to assist me.” “That is my task at balls, to rescue fair maidens.” “You should not let that be known widely, then, or ladies would be fainting at your feet in droves in hopes of rescue.”

He gave a startled laugh. “Why, Lady Emily! Was that a joke?”

Emily thought about it for a moment. “I think it might have been.”

“A joke with an unfortunate grain of truth, I fear.”

“You probably don’t need to worry, your Grace. Most society ladies are not so clumsy as I am and could not fall if they tried.”

“I am glad to hear it. I can’t spend all my time saving fainting ladies. But I can’t believe anyone could ever call you clumsy, Lady Emily.”

“Oh, they could,” she said with a sigh. “And I think—”

From the corner of her eye, Emily caught a glimpse of flashing movement, dark and strange in the bright day. She spun around, and to her horror saw a runaway curricle barrelling down the roadway—and straight toward the red-haired child. The driver, a terrified-looking young man, had lost the reins. Pedestrians dived out of its wild path, shrieking, but the little girl was terribly oblivious.

“No!” Emily screamed. She ran towards the child, but her skirt hem wrapped around her ankles and tripped her.

The duke had no such constraints. He dashed past Emily, swift on his long, powerful legs, and dived for the child as the carriage crashed ever nearer. Everyone else ran the other way, but not him. He took a diving leap for the girl and caught her up in his arms a split second before the curricle would have run over her.

His momentum carried them both over the embankment and straight into the placid waters of the river.

Terrified, Emily lifted her wretched hems and dashed towards the river, along with everyone else. The carriage had finally ground to a halt some distance away, but she didn’t notice. All she could see were the waves washing over the spot where he had disappeared.

The duke leaped up, the girl held tightly against him. They were both completely soaked, but the child laughed delightedly in his arms as Nicholas sputtered for breath. A clump of weeds clung to his wet hair, now more green than gold with sludge.

To Emily, though, he did not look so very comical.

“Kitty!” a nursemaid shrieked as she ran past Emily, that flirtation with the footman forgotten. “Oh, is she hurt? Is she?”

The duke spat out a mouthful of water, wading towards shore. “I don’t think so, miss,” he said. “Though she is making a deuced lot of noise.”

He slowly climbed up the embankment, the child clinging to his neck as she chortled with sheer joy. His fine clothes were utterly ruined, but he didn’t seem to notice. He carefully handed the girl to her nurse.

“Keep a closer eye on her, yes?” he said hoarsely.

“Oh, yes, sir! Of course,” the maid cried. “Thank you so much, how can I thank you? I turned my back for one moment and—”

“One moment is all it takes, I fear,” he said. He sat down heavily on the grass, his head in his hands as the maid carried the child away and the crowd slowly dispersed as the drama seemed over. “One moment and they’re gone.”

“Oh, your Grace,” Emily said. She knelt beside him, only to find she trembled violently. How close that poor child had come to disaster! If not for him, the duke … “Are you hurt at all?”

He shook his head, and he trembled, too. “Of course not, Lady Emily. I’ve been dunked in far worse.” He slowly lowered his hands, and she saw that his face was a bit pale, but completely expressionless. He took off his boots, one after the other, and emptied out the water. He removed his coat and wrung out the sleeves.

“I did not think they would start so young,” he muttered.

“Your Grace?” Emily said, bewildered. Had he hit his head on the embankment? What was he talking about?

“Seeking rescue,” he said. “You did warn me.”

She laughed. “Indeed. But I fear you will be the one in need of rescue if you don’t get home and into some dry clothes as soon as possible.”

“I am fine, Lady Emily. We should find your friends first.”

Of course! She had completely forgotten about them, about everyone. Emily glanced up to find Jane hurrying towards them, her eyes bright with excitement. Mr Rayburn followed, looking considerably put out by the whole scene.

“No need, for here they are already,” she said.

“Oh, your Grace! That was utterly amazing,” Jane cried. “So very heroic.”

“Not heroic at all, Miss Thornton,” he answered as he rose to his feet and held out his hand to help Emily. “I merely acted out of instinct, as anyone would.”

Yet no one else had acted at all, Emily thought. Only him. Would she now have to revise her opinion of him as merely a pleasure-seeking, shallow duke? That would be most inconvenient.

“I heard you were at the park today, Em, when the Duke of Manning performed a most daring rescue.”

Emily looked up from her book as her brother bounded into the drawing room. “So I was, Rob, along with half of London.”

Her mother turned eagerly from her embroidery. “The Duke of Manning? And you were there, Emily? Why did you not say something!”

Because Emily did not know what to say. She knew her mother would become terribly excited at the knowledge she had even seen the duke today. Her mother would be sure to blow the whole incident entirely out of proportion and make it all something it was not. Emily was just too tired for all that right now, and much too confused.

And she also just wanted to keep what she had seen to herself for a while, to try to decipher what it all meant. She couldn’t do that with her family chattering on about it all, as they had a tendency to do. Yet it seemed keeping quiet was no longer an option.

“Emily!” her mother said. “Did you hear me? Why did you not tell me you saw the Duke of Manning at the park? Did he speak to you?”

Emily carefully closed her book. “I suppose it all just slipped my mind.”

“Slipped your mind?” her mother cried.

“You are a strange girl indeed, Sister,” Rob said. He leaned over her chair to examine her book, his light brown hair flopping over his brow. He didn’t look quite like an important up-and-coming politician when he did that, she thought, but like the brother of her youth. “I’m sure anyone else would definitely remember seeing the duke rescue a child from a runaway carriage. And then walking away on his arm when it was all over.”

“What!” Emily’s mother screamed. She tossed her sewing on to the floor. “Emily, you will tell me everything this moment.”

“It did not happen quite like that,” Emily protested. “And how do you know of it, Rob?”

“Amy saw Jane Thornton’s sister at the milliner. But it doesn’t matter how I know. Everyone in town knows by now. Nothing so dashing has happened at the park in ages.” Rob tugged at one of her curls. “They say you wept and mopped at his sweated brow.”

“He was too wet from falling in the river to sweat,” Emily muttered. “And I did not weep. Though I was naturally frightened for the poor child.”

“I wouldn’t be too sorry for her—she’s Lord and Lady Hampton’s brat. It seems they’re proclaiming Manning the great hero of the age.”

“Already?” said Emily. “And how do you know that?”

“Amy saw Lady Hampton’s aunt on the way home from the milliner’s. Amy is amazing at discovering information,” Rob said admiringly.

“You mean she is a great gossip,” said Emily.

“Whatever you call it, Sister, it’s immensely useful and one of the many reasons I married her. It would do you good to talk to people yourself more often.”

“Enough of this arguing, you two!” their mother cried. “Emily, tell me what happened immediately.”

Emily quickly related the tale of the child’s rescue—a short version of it, anyway—leaving out most of her own involvement and all her emotions. Even that abbreviated account had her mother sighing.

“What a heroic tale!” she said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “How proud our old friend, the late duke, would be. And to think you were there, Emily!”

“So was everyone else, Mama,” Emily protested again.

“But no one else went to his assistance, only you, my dear. And now your name is linked with his.”

“Well done, Em,” Rob said.

“I did nothing at all! He scarcely even noticed me,” Emily said, to no avail.

“Perhaps we should allow you to go to Vauxhall with Miss Thornton and her sister after all,” her mother said. “I wasn’t sure about the outing at first, but such a good deed deserves a reward. And there can be no harm if you are with respectable friends.”

“Really? You are allowing me to go to Vauxhall?” Emily said, astonished. Her mother had hesitated when Emily first relayed Jane’s invitation, but now she seemed quite happy to allow it.

“Of course, my dear. The duke might be there, after all. You must see what you can make of it.”

Emily departed the drawing room soon after, leaving her mother and brother to their happy conversation of the doings in the park and what it might mean. They seemed to think it meant the duke had noticed Emily at last, or some such nonsense.

Once she was safe in the silence of her own chamber, she locked the door and went to stare out the window at the gathering evening. Her room looked down on their tiny back garden and the mews behind. All was quiet now, as everyone was at home preparing for their nights, their parties and dinners and theatre outings. The sky was the palest of pinks, shading slowly into grey.

What was he doing tonight? she wondered. Was he getting ready to go out and enjoy his hero-dom? She hoped he was staying home to rest by a warm fire, as he would surely catch a chill after his—what did he call it? His dunking?

She had a sudden vision of the duke, Nicholas, by his fire, cosy with books and supper on a tray. That was her favourite sort of evening. What if she was there, too? What if she could sit by him as they toasted cheese in the fire and laughed about the follies of gossip? He would reach for her hand and.

“No!” she said aloud, and laughed at her fancies. He did not seem a man to relish a quiet evening at home. Dukes were very busy and always sought after, even ones who weren’t the hero of the day. His family seemed to love parties above all else, dancing and music and jokes.

And yet—yet she had glimpsed something different in him today, ever so briefly. She had known he was brave, of course, always riding hell for leather and racing carriages at Welbourne Manor, swimming in the lake there, climbing the hills. Dancing all night. But today’s bravery was of another sort. He had put himself in danger to save a child, a person unknown to him, without an instant’s hesitation while everyone else fled or froze in horror. As she had.

Only after did he seem at all shaken, as if the true danger to that little girl had only just come to him. And that girl had been most reluctant to part with her rescuer—as all ladies seemed to be with him.

Emily bit at the edge of her thumbnail as she watched the sky slide into indigo twilight. Teaching at Mrs Goddard’s meant that not only did she teach the women writing and French, they taught her things as well. They were careful never to tell lurid tales in her hearing, but she did hear some things. She heard stories of how men, especially wealthy and titled men, were not to be trusted. They used people, particularly women, for selfish ends and discarded them without a care. That was why she worked at Mrs Goddard’s, to help women recover from such terrible experiences. She wanted to help however she could.

The Duke of Manning was about as wealthy and titled as a man could be, and he was the son of a famous libertine, a man who had abandoned his wife, the mother of his heir, and married his mistress as soon as that poor wife died. Yet today Emily had seen not a shred of selfishness or carelessness.

Was it only the rush of the moment that made him act thus? Perhaps tomorrow he would go back to the careless, scandalous ways of the Mannings. Or maybe—maybe that was simply how he really was, deep inside.

Emily was very confused, and she did not like that feeling at all. Maybe her mother was right, and the duke would be at Vauxhall for the masked ball. If she met him in disguise, not as Lady Emily Carroll, perhaps she could glimpse that true self, not just the face he showed society.

It seemed a harebrained scheme at best, but for now it was all she had.