Page 14 of Her Wolf of a Duke (Dukes & Beasts #1)
CHAPTER 14
I n spite of Sarah’s brighter spirits, Emma did not speak to the Duke.
Instead, she spent the last of her time at the party leading up to the ball with her friends. She had hardly seen them, and knowing that she would be living several days’ travel away within the year made her desperate to spend some time with them.
Not only that, but there was something she had to ask them, although she was reluctant to do so.
They were sitting in a parlor room, drinking tea and eating cake and biscuits together, when at last Emma decided it was time to speak with them.
“Am I a good friend?” she asked, and all three ladies turned to her.
“Of course!” Beatrice replied. “Why would you think otherwise?”
And so, it all came flooding out of her; her concerns that she was no longer needed, her fears that marriages were going to separate them, her failures as a sister and friend. The words kept spilling from her lips, and by the time she had finished and took a breath her friends were looking at her in astonishment.
“Is that truly how you have been feeling?” Dorothy asked.
“Yes, and I know it is unfair of me to see you all that way, but it is the truth.”
“Then we should have been better friends,” Cecilia said gently. “It shall take more than marriages to divide us, you know. You must also know that your… well, what you share with the Duke, has not changed how we see you. We are pleased for you.”
“There is nothing between the Duke and me, how many times must I say it?”
“When your actions match your words, we shall believe it,” Beatrice teased. “But Cecilia is right. You are still the most wonderful lady we know, and it is a gift to be able to call you my friend. That will not change, be we wives or spinsters or bluestockings.”
She looked directly at Cecilia as she said the last word.
“Yes, yes, I am aware of what you all think of me,” Cecilia laughed. “And that is why I am telling you, Emma, that we do not care. We are a very different group of ladies, certainly, but that doesn’t mean we cannot be friends. I would argue that, when we are old, we shall only have more in common. Our hair, for example, shall be the same color at last.”
Emma laughed, finding comfort in her friends’ words. She had been afraid of losing them, but that was only a fear. It did not make it true, and given how certain her friends were, it was not even a possibility.
“What colors are you all wearing tonight?” Dorothy asked after a while. “My sister has insisted on me wearing this horrid yellow thing. I shall look like a chick, and I have half a mind to squawk accordingly.”
“I will not be allowing that,” Cecilia declared. “I came here with enough gowns for you, and that is how it will be. Your gown for tonight’s ball is a pale blue. Mine is green.”
“Mine is yellow!” Beatrice smiled, “Although I will say it is a gentler shade than what I imagine your sister had chosen for you, Dorothy.”
The three ladies turned to Emma, and she realized that she had not even thought about it.
“I do not know, yet. I suppose I could wear the same as I did to the first one. Nobody will notice.”
“Emma,” Cecilia warned, “if I must march you down to the modiste right now and have her fashion you one, I will do so. If this is to be our final evening together for a while, it will be perfect. I will not allow it to be any other way.”
Emma sighed, but she was smiling, and the four of them left for her bedchambers to select the perfect gown. They searched through all of them when suddenly Dorothy gasped, pulling one and holding it up.
Emma had forgotten that she had brought it.
It was the gown she almost debuted in, bright white with jeweled embellishments. She had chosen another in the end, one that wasn’t nearly as extravagant, and then there was never a time that she wished to wear it after that.
“I cannot,” she protested. “It is white, and I am not a bride, nor am I a blushing debutante.”
“It is a gown,” Cecilia replied, holding it to her, “and nobody is insisting that you wear a feather or a veil with it. Dorothy has made the perfect choice. This is the one.”
There was no use arguing with them, Emma knew that much. In any case, she could afford to make a slight fool of herself. After all, it wasn’t as though she had anyone to impress. There would be no husband coming her way, and so there would be no harm in wearing something that wasn’t particularly well regarded. It excited her, even, to do something that she shouldn’t.
Suddenly, there was a knock at her door, and the girls scrambled to hide the gowns again. Emma opened it to see Sarah in the doorway, smiling softly.
“May I join you?” she asked, and she was welcomed in.
“Do you have plans for this evening?” Beatrice asked, as they all fussed around her.
They were also aware of Sarah’s maid and her inability to achieve perfection, and so they worked together to have her ready.
“Well, I do plan to do something quite spectacular,” she blushed, “but I cannot say just what it is, yet. All I can say is that I will be celebrating my final evening of freedom.”
“You speak as though you are headed to your grave,” Cecilia tutted. “Is he truly that awful?”
“No, not really. I have come to accept it, in all honesty, and it is as my sister told me; he could be far worse.”
Sarah was strangely tranquil. Emma did not believe it at all. No more than she had believed it when Sarah was a child, saying she did not want dessert and then robbing the kitchen blind after the household had gone to bed. Something had to have changed, she thought, but Sarah was not saying just what it was.
When the ladies were dressed, they met in Emma’s room so that they could all leave together. When they arrived there, however, Emma was still standing before her mirror. She hadn’t been able to decide on her jewelry, and it was beginning to make her feel very frustrated indeed.
“There is an easy solution to this,” Cecilia said brightly, taking the locket from her desk and fastening it around her neck before she could protest. “There. You look lovely.”
“I cannot wear this! The Duke of Lupton won it with me. I do not want him to think–”
“He did not give it to you, though, did he? No, the Duke of Pridefield did. Nobody shall know where it is from to begin with, as you had already removed it when most guests returned. It is a locket, Emma, not a badge with a name on.”
She looked at her reflection, and she had to admit that it looked lovely. It wasn’t like the jewels that her friends wore, but it was more like her than any diamonds could have been. She had never liked grand displays of wealth, and the locket was a delicate thing, personal, something that held a memory, and Emma preferred that. With a nod, she turned to the door, her friends following closely behind.
As they entered the ballroom, Emma felt all eyes turn to them. They were, after all, quite a bizarre group, and so it was no surprise to her. Regardless, they paid no attention to it and enjoyed themselves.
“He is watching you,” Dorothy whispered to her after a while.
Emma turned, and the Duke of Lupton was standing nearby, his eyes not leaving her.
“That is none of my business. He may do as he pleases, after all.”
“Very well, but I thought you might wish to speak with him.”
“Dorothy, why on Earth would I want to do that?”
“Because you may not see him again after tonight! You never know, and I do not want you to live the rest of your life wondering if you should have told him the truth.”
“There is no truth. If there was, I would have told him by now and you know that.”
“If you insist, Emma. Oh! My mother is summoning me. I shall find you later.”
Dorothy quickly made her way to her parents, and Emma was left with her thoughts. Why was it, she wondered, that everybody seemed to notice something that she could not? She did not feel that she was lying to herself, but then with all of the changes she had witnessed she hardly knew herself anymore.
“Here,” Cecilia said, handing her a glass that smelled stronger than lemonade. “It shall make the evening easier.”
“What is it?”
“It is better if you do not know. Drink it quickly before anyone sees.”
She drank it in one, the liquid burning her throat. She whimpered slightly, returning the glass to her friend.
“Cecilia, what was that?”
“A lemonade… mixed with brandy. You seem uneasy, and I thought it might steady your nerves.”
As the burning subsided, Emma had to admit that it left quite a pleasant taste on her tongue. Her friend seemed to notice that change, and disappeared for a moment before bringing her another, which she gratefully drank.
“How are you managing to make these?”
“We spinsters are never noticed. It is a blessing. Besides, my reputation is set in stone by now. I do not believe I could lower it any further if I tried, which of course I promise not to.”
Emma laughed, enjoying the new taste. It had certainly helped to settle her, which was fortunate because at that moment she saw Sarah dancing with Lord Rosendale, an irate Lord Frenton nearby. She handed Cecilia the glass, and her friend mumbled something about fetching her a stronger one before Emma left to speak with him.
“Good evening, my lord,” she said gently. “Is everything alright?”
“That sister of yours is aware that we have a deal. We are to be married!”
“I understand, my lord. Did she not tell you that she planned to dance with him?”
“Of course not. Had she done so, I would have forbidden it. Rather, I would have told your father to. He told me she is a docile young lady, one that does not cause mischief, yet there she is practically wreaking havoc!”
“It is only a dance, my lord,” she replied gently, but she couldn’t help but understand his frustration.
This must have been what Sarah had planned, Emma thought, and why she was so looking forward to the evening. She would be able to have a final dance with the man she was falling for, and then perhaps the life that followed would not hurt so badly.
“I have half a mind to march over there and drag her back,” he thundered.
“You shall do no such thing,” a deep voice came.
Emma was relieved, in spite of herself, at her rescuer. The Duke of Lupton had clearly seen what was happening, as he hadn’t stopped watching her, and had brought himself into a situation that did not concern him. Instead of being angry with him, however, she was only grateful.He had come to her aid at the right time, and though she had wanted to fix the situation herself, she could not scoff at his help, not when it was selfless.
“Your Grace,” the Viscount argued, “you must understand that Miss Sarah is to be my wife. She must obey me.”
“Oh, did I miss the ceremony? Has she said her vows, and promised you to obey you until death do you part yet? I must admit, it hurts to know that you did not think to invite me to your nuptials.”
Emma watched as the Viscount scrambled to find something to say. The dance ended and Emma looked over at her sister, who was looking back at her with a fearful expression. She understood completely, but to end the matter she needed Sarah to join her. She summoned her, and though she seemed to not wish to do so, she came toward them.
“Lord Frenton,” Emma said brightly, “my sister has returned. Perhaps the two of you may now share a dance?”
“I should have all of her dances, given the circumstances.”
Lord Rosendale, smiling politely, took Sarah’s left hand in his, as if mocking the Viscount. She was not wearing an engagement ring—the Viscount hadn’t troubled himself with that detail—and the Baron looked pointedly at it for a moment before making a theatrical gasp.
“My word, her engagement ring is so small that I cannot even see it! Are you certain that you can take care of her, given… your straitened circumstances?”
“Young man, you ought to learn your place. As a baron, you are not half the man I am, and you do not understand the first thing about having a high rank in society.”
“I am half your age, but twice the man. Let us not forget who is forcing whose hand in all of this.”
“Gentlemen,” the Duke of Lupton said firmly, “I understand that tensions are high, but this is no way to behave. If it is rank you care so much for, Frenton, then you might heed my warning as a duke. This is unacceptable, and I will not have any young lady forced to do something against her will when I am here. Miss Sarah, do you wish to dance with this Baron?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Sarah replied softly.
“Then the matter is settled. The two of you may go and enjoy yourselves. In the meantime, Frenton, you might wish to remember that a duke is a powerful ally before you attempt to make such statements of yours. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” he grumbled, leaving to join her father.
Her father would be furious the following day, scolding them profusely for what they had done. Emma knew that she would bear the brunt of it, as she was the eldest and expected to keep her sister in line, but she could not bring herself to care. Like her sister, she was simply excited to enjoy an evening without thinking of what would come the morning after it. She wanted to be happy, no matter the repercussions.
“Dance with me, Miss Kendall.”
She looked up to find the Duke’s green eyes firmly on hers.
“I– I cannot, Your Grace. There are enough rumors about the two of us as it is.”
“Let them talk. In fact, I propose that we give them something to talk about, a great finale to this event. It would be quite excellent, wouldn’t you agree?”
Emma wanted to reject him. She wanted to return to Cecilia and continue to watch her sister enjoy her final night as her own person, but there was an intensity in the Duke’s gaze that she could not refuse.
“One moment,” she said quickly, moving quickly to her friend.
The glass that Cecilia was holding had a much darker drink inside this time, but that did not matter. Emma drank it in one, enjoying how it burned more than ever.
“Emma, what are you doing?”
“Having some liquid courage. Wish me luck.”
She ignored her friend’s calls, returning to the duke and placing her hand on his arm.
“Does this mean you wish to dance with me?”
“It does. One dance, and nothing more.”
They took to the floor, and the whispers began. Sarah smiled in satisfaction at her, and Emma knew it was because her sister had been waiting for this dance with this partner since the moment she had met him. The music began, and they danced wordlessly for a while. She wondered if the Duke might say something to her, and part of her hoped he would, but he did not, and she tried not to mind.
Then, he cleared his throat.
“I must apologize for what I did,” he said softly.
“There is no need. Thank you for all that you have done for me.”
She looked up at him, and his eyes stopped her in her tracks. She knew how to dance, and the feeling of his hand on her waist was exquisite, but all thoughts of that ceased and all she could do was move as well as she could and look into his eyes.
“Miss Kendall, I do not want you to hate me.”
“I do not. I do not think I could.”
“Then why have you been avoiding me?”
At last, she tore her eyes from his, only to be met with Gretchen’s. She was standing in the crowd, glaring at her. At once, she regretted looking away and looked back at him, his gaze piercing.
“I do not owe you an explanation, Your Grace.”
“You do not, but I would appreciate one nonetheless.”
Her heart pounded, as in truth she did not know why she had avoided him, aside from the fact that he made her feel unlike any other person ever had.
“Your Grace, you and I are even, so to speak. I saved you from scandal, and you have helped my sister enjoy her evening. We have helped one another, and now we can go our separate ways and forget any of this ever happened.”
“Is that truly what you want?”
“It has never mattered what I want,” she whispered.
“It has to me, which is why I am asking you. Is never seeing me again what you want?”
She went to answer, but at that moment the music ended.
Yes, she told herself, say yes and be done with it!
But she did not say a word. Instead, she curtseyed and excused herself. The drink was beginning to have an effect on her, and she did not know how long she could control herself for before she gave in entirely. She needed time, and she needed to think, and so she went to the veranda.
She knew perfectly well she would not be alone for long.