Page 11 of His Tempting Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #4)

CHAPTER 11

Four Nights To Her Decision

“E mily? Emily ! For heaven’s sake, girl, pay attention!”

Emily flinched, jerked out of a reverie. She lifted her chin from the palm of her hand and blinked incredulously at her mother.

Octavia sat at the head of the breakfast table, narrowing her eyes at her daughter.

“I’m sorry, Mama, were you speaking to me?”

Octavia sighed. “Yes, I was, but I can see that you did not hear a word of it. Once, there was nothing but chatter at this table, when your sisters were home. I forgot how given you are to reflection.”

Emily flinched. “I am sorry to be so disappointing, Mama.”

Octavia paused, her knife and fork poised above her breakfast kipper.

“Well, I never meant that , darling! I only meant that Daphne and Anna were very talkative, and you are not. I did not mean to be hurtful, my dear, but I can see how you might have thought it. I apologize; I shall be more careful with my words in the future.”

Flushing, Emily glanced down at her own breakfast plate. She’d filled it thoughtlessly with now-cold scrambled eggs, slices of bread, bacon, and even part of a kipper her mother had pressured her to take.

She didn’t want to eat any of it.

“I don’t mean to be so prickly, Mama,” she murmured. “I slept badly, you see.”

That was something of an understatement. Generally, Emily collapsed into bed after the long and exhausting Society parties, sleeping deeply until their habitual late breakfast the next day.

Last night had been… different. She’d lain awake for hours, tossing and turning, desire pulsing through her. It was almost like hunger, a bodily ache that refused to recede until her needs were met. In this case, however, Emily was not entirely sure what it was that she needed.

She’d played the scene in the library over and over in her head. Often, she found her fingers inching up towards her mouth, as if she might still taste the duke’s kiss there. It was infuriating and baffling. What was a woman meant to do? How could the feelings be stopped?

She’d read the entire first volume of Frankenstein in the middle of the night, and it was enthralling. Now, however, she could hardly hold back her yawns. The pulsing sensation of arousal had receded, at least, although she found herself thinking of the wretched duke every time her mind wandered.

At least he’d made it clear that he still wanted her. Still wanted to marry her. Emily was not sure how she felt about that. It didn’t seem that the Baroness Rawdon was his mistress, but how could one tell?

Her mind was reeling.

“Mama,” she asked abruptly, “can men be trusted?”

Octavia froze in the middle of chewing a mouthful of fish. She swallowed carefully, setting down her knife and fork. “What a question, Emily. What has brought this on?”

Emily breathed in, trying to rearrange her thoughts. “We have known many men that were not trustworthy, haven’t we? There was… there was the Earl of Downton, remember? The man who tried to ruin us.”

She immediately regretted mentioning that man.

Years ago, after her father had died, the family had been in grave danger. The Earl of Downton had been the primary holder of their debts and had wanted to have Anna in exchange for not turning them out onto the streets. He was married already and had intended to make her his mistress.

Emily was not sure, as it had never been discussed, but she believed that her mother had been forced to enter into a relationship of sorts with the Earl while Anna secured a good marriage to save them. The Earl had troubled them for far too long, until Anna’s husband, Theodore, finally sent him to debtor’s prison for good. He had featured in Emily’s nightmares for years, and she did not doubt that he featured in Octavia’s nightmares, too.

Octavia’s face tightened. “I recall the man. He was a vile beast, and he got what was coming to him. I don’t think of him much, and nor should you, Emily. Of course, he could not be trusted, but who could trust a villain like that? Surely Lord Downton is not the standard by which you judge men.”

“No, of course not, but I… I was thinking of Papa,” Emily mumbled.

“Your papa ? Why, you adored him! We all did.”

“I know, I know, Mama. Papa was the kindest, most loving man in the world, I know that, but he made so many mistakes and left us entirely destitute. He was not cruel or unkind, and I know he regretted the predicament he left us in, but he was not trustworthy , was he?”

Octavia was silent for a moment, thinking this over.

“I do often regret trusting your papa with our finances,” she admitted. “But that cannot be helped. Perhaps your papa was not the most trustworthy of men, but what about Theodore? What about Stephen, Beatrice’s husband? And what about Edward, dear Daphne’s husband? They’re fine men, aren’t they?”

Emily sighed. “Yes, but they all married for something other than love. Not one of my sisters married a man for love. It always came later.”

Octavia sniffed, picking up her knife and fork and resuming her meal. “Your sisters did not have the faintest idea of what they wanted,” she muttered. “They had no idea they were in love until it walloped them over the head.”

Emily flinched, reminded of what the duke had said to her last night.

“I think that you do not even know what you want.”

“I think I ought to show you what you truly want, and you’d thank me for it. What do you think?”

What did she want? Did it matter? Women never got what they wanted, anyway.

Sighing, Emily forced herself to swallow down a mouthful of cold, rubbery eggs.

“Women have to marry, that’s the way of the world,” Octavia continued, helping herself to another cup of tea. “You may not like it, but railing against it won’t change anything. You would do better to choose a decent husband without love getting in the way. That ensures that you’ll keep your head clear, and be able to choose a good, trustworthy man without being blinded by charm or good looks.”

“You were in love, weren’t you, Mama?”

“Yes, I was,” Octavia replied. “I don’t regret an instant of my life with your papa, but there’s no denying that we had our troubles. The thing is, Emily, if you play your cards right and manage to get through this disastrous Season, you can start afresh next year. Your disgrace may be forgotten—well, I suppose that’s rather unlikely, but you will have weathered the worst of it at least—and you can concentrate on finding yourself somebody suitable. You don’t want to go through life as an unwanted spinster, my dear. It is a most unpleasant existence, I’m afraid.”

Emily was silent for a moment, considering. The truth was, her childhood home had not felt much like home since her sisters had left. She felt the loss of Daphne keenly. They’d always done everything together—joined at the hip, as Anna said—and now she felt as though she were simply half of a whole. At a loose end, struggling to find her purpose in a world she’d previously waded through with her twin at her side. It was not pleasant.

No doubt Octavia similarly felt at a loose end. Their happy, noisy family home was quiet of late, the two of them wandering around large, empty rooms.

The question remained, and it was a pressing one.

What was she going to do with her life?

That was only the first question of several. What choices were left open to her? Which did she wish to make? What did she have the temperament or talents to do? Were they practical choices? How could she tell?

“The Duke of Clapton still wants to marry me,” Emily burst out.

Octavia nodded, not seeming surprised in the least. “Yes, I thought he might after your dance last night,” she conceded. “And what are your thoughts?”

“Thoughts? I cannot understand why he still wants to marry me, Mama! What should I do?”

Octavia sighed faintly. “Do? Why, I cannot tell you that. You are a clever girl, Emily. You will work it out.”

Emily eyed her mother, a little baffled. There’d been no more talk of blackmail or her paintings, although Woman In The Window was taking London by storm, and there was something of a rush to collect the rest of Anon’s paintings. Soon, her agent would begin pressuring her to produce more paintings.

The agent, an eager young man with fewer brains than a flea, did not know her identity. Emily was not willing to be exposed against her will, by accident or otherwise.

There’d been banknotes and cheques, too, more than Emily could have imagined. She’d made money from her paintings before, but never as much as she had from Woman In The Window .

I have many ideas for paintings, all just as shocking and thought-provoking. I always imagined that they were too risqué for Society. Was I wrong? Ought I try boldness?

She shivered at the thought, her fingers tightening around her knife and fork.

For the first time, Emily considered that her paintings might be good enough to earn her a living.

Before anything else could be said, a resounding knock sounded at the door, followed by a loud, familiar voice echoing through the hallways.

“They’re in here, aren’t they? No need to escort me, I’ll just go straight in. Don’t worry, I remember where we had breakfast.”

Octavia laid down her knife and fork, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “That,” she said unnecessarily, “sounds like your sister.”

On cue, Daphne burst into the breakfast room, beaming.

“There you are! I’ll pull up a chair while you both finish your breakfast. I thought we might all go out today,” she announced, flopping down in her usual seat by Emily’s side. She was wearing a voluminous green gown, the ruffles of the skirt poofing up around her.

“I’m afraid I’m paying calls this morning, dear.” Octavia laughed. “But perhaps Emily might spend the day with you.”

“Oh, yes, that would be nice. I thought we could go promenading in Hyde Park.”

Emily blinked, taken aback. She stared pointedly out of the window, where grey rain sleeted down the glass. The landscape was painted in shades of drab green and grey, the sky above them bone white.

It was, in short, not a pleasant day for promenading.

“You’re joking, aren’t you?”

Daphne sniffed. “No, I am not. I need exercise, Sister, and ladies can’t go promenading alone. Duchesses certainly can’t, I’ve been told.”

“You’re mad,” Emily responded. “Why can’t we just stay inside?”

Daphne sighed, shifting. “I have the fidgets today. I must have fresh air, I can’t bear to be cooped up inside. Edward is off attending to business, and Alex is with him, so I have nobody to keep me company, and I am quite bored. Say you’ll promenade with me, Emmie!”

“No, not in weather like this! Mama, tell her she’s being foolish.”

“I am sorry, Emily. Your sister is married now, and I no longer have authority over her,” Octavia responded, returning to her kippers. “What’s more, I am not sure I ever had authority over her when she lived at home. Daff always did exactly as she wanted, and I quite gave up trying to control her.”

Daphne opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, a confused expression on her face. The confusion was rapidly replaced by a growing dread.

Emily frowned, squinting at her sister’s uneasy expression. “Daphne? What is it? You look unwell. You’ve gone pale. What’s wrong?”

Daphne swallowed thickly and bounced to her feet. She hurried across the room, to where a pair of ornamental vases stood at either side of the picture window. Grabbing the closest one, she proceeded to vomit noisily inside it.

Emily winced.

Octavia sighed. “Oh, Daphne .”

Emily hurried over to where her sister still hunched over the vase, patting her on the back. “Oh, Daff, you must be so ill,” she sighed. “We’ll fetch a doctor immediately.”

“I’m sorry,” Daphne mumbled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I was sick this morning, and I thought it would stay in the morning. I didn’t think there would be sickness after breakfast!”

There was a pause where Octavia and Emily exchanged wide-eyed glances.

“Daphne,” Emily ventured, “are you talking about morning sickness? Are you with child?”

A flush spread across Daphne’s face, and her hands hovered over her stomach. There was no curve there yet, of course, but there was a sort of glow about her that virtually screamed that she was with child.

“It’s true,” Daphne admitted, smiling nervously. “I’m going to have a baby.”

There was a brief pause, and then Emily shrieked with delight, bouncing to her feet. She wrapped her arms around her sister, seconds before Octavia joined them, laughing and smiling.

“It’s very early,” Daphne added, pulling away and glancing at them both sternly. “Edward and I don’t want anybody to know. We haven’t decided how to tell Alex yet. Perhaps he’ll be excited. I daresay he will, but I want it to happen on our terms.”

“Of course.” Emily nodded, beaming. “Oh, Daff, I’m so excited.”

“So, you’ll come promenading, then? We can talk about it. I’ve sent a note to Anna, who will be joining us,” Daphne asked, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I can’t wait to tell her. She’ll be thrilled for me, I know.”

Emily bit back a sigh, eyeing the rain pattering outside.

“Very well,” she muttered. “I shall fetch my umbrella. And some galoshes, I think.”