Page 12 of His Tempting Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #4)

CHAPTER 12

T he rain had not let up in the slightest. Hyde Park was, unsurprisingly, almost empty. Grumbling to herself, Emily turned up the collar of her coat against the damp and stamped onwards through the puddles to catch up with her sisters.

Anna and Daphne walked arm-in-arm, talking in low voices.

“Motherhood is not easy,” Anna was saying, smiling fondly down at her younger sister. “As long as you know that, you’ll be quite all right. Expect difficulties. Edward is a good man, and I know he’ll support you. Being with child is… well, it’s a trial . I’ve spoken to women who love those few months, and I can’t say that I agree with that, but never mind. We’ll all be here every step of the way, however.”

Daphne gave a relieved smile. “Thank you, Anna.”

With a jolt, Emily realized that Daphne was afraid . She was scared, nervous about the prospect of giving birth and raising a child.

And I never noticed. I just assumed that Daphne was brash and fearless, as always.

What sort of sister am I?

Before Emily had a chance to sink into her guilt, Daphne twisted around to grin at her, holding out her free arm.

“Come on, Emmie. Walk with us. We’re going to splash through the puddles like we did when we were children.”

Anna snorted. “No, you two are going to splash through the puddles, and I am going to shriek and try to keep my skirts dry. That’s what I did when you were children, and I shall keep doing it now.”

Emily tried to smile, but she felt sadness bubbling inside her like a stuck fountain.

Anna paused, frowning ever so slightly. “Emily? What is it?”

“It’s just…” Emily paused, sighing. “We’re all so grown-up now. Look at you two. You’re married, both of you, and you have your own homes. You’re a mother already, Anna, and you, Daphne, will be one soon. Even though you already are a mother to sweet Alex. It’s just all happening so fast.”

She could hear the childish tone in her voice, the petulant whine of a girl who didn’t want the world to change around her.

Anna did not sigh or roll her eyes. She wrapped her arm around Emily’s shoulders, pulling her close. Daphne joined in the embrace, the three of them huddled together under Anna’s umbrella, water dappling the muddy puddles around them.

“To live is to change, my darling,” Anna whispered. “It’s not anything we can control. On the other hand, it’s entirely natural to feel ill at ease and unhappy about the changes. Nobody blames you.”

“I feel as though I’m being left behind,” Emily mumbled, her cheek smushed against her older sister’s shoulder. “I love Mama, but it’s so quiet with just the two of us in the house. I miss you both. I miss Papa too, and I thought I’d finished grieving him.”

“Oh, Emmie, I miss you too,” Daphne sniffled, her voice sounding rather wet. “After the Season is over, I insist on you and Mama coming to stay with us. Edward has already agreed.”

Anna tutted. “Mama and Emily are already staying with me and Theodore, you’ll find.”

Some of Emily’s melancholy lifted as her two sisters began to squabble good-naturedly. They broke apart, arms still linked, and began to carry on down the muddy path.

“I suppose I’m just afraid of being left behind,” Emily murmured, once the half-hearted argument was over.

As far as she could tell, it had been decided that she and her mother would spend half of the weekend with Daphne and the other half with Anna.

“You won’t be,” Anna assured her firmly.

“Speaking of changes and moving on,” Daphne remarked, shooting her twin a shrewd look. “I couldn’t help but notice that you spent a good deal of time in Beatrice’s library last night. What caught your attention, I wonder?”

Emily bit her lip, pointedly not glancing at her older sister. Anna was staring at her, her eyes narrowed.

“I was reading that new book,” Emily responded haughtily. “ Frankenstein . It’s very good.”

“The Duke of Clapton disappeared, too,” Anna added artlessly. “I know Beatrice had to invite him, but I’d have rather not seen him there. I wonder how he dared to show his face in Society. Awful man.”

Her stare intensified, and Emily fought harder not to glance at her. She’d never been much of a liar, and certainly no good at acting innocent. She had the strangest feeling that if she glanced at her older sister, she would blurt out everything that had happened between her and the duke in the library, down to the Frankenstein quotes.

She was saved, as usual, by Daphne.

“Oh, Lord,” Daphne gasped. “Don’t look now, but there are two gentlemen up ahead. Heavens, it’s too late to turn back.”

“You should not be thinking about gentlemen , Daphne—you are married,” Anna responded caustically.

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Anna, look . It’s the Duke of Clapton and his wretched cousin!”

All three of them stopped dead, staring.

Beyond the circle of the umbrella, the rain fell heavily around them, casting greyish veils over anything further away than a couple of feet. That was why Emily had not yet noticed the two men on horseback trotting towards them.

The men were crossing a long patch of grass, heading towards the muddy path. The sound of the horses’ hooves was entirely drowned out by the patter of raindrops on the umbrella.

“Your Graces!” called one of the men. “Miss Belmont, good day to you.”

She recognized his voice as that of Mr. St. John, the duke’s cousin, the one who had written her that awful, threatening letter. Her hand tightened on Daphne’s arm.

The horses were soaked, their manes plastered to their foreheads, water sleeting down their flanks. Their riders were similarly wet, with wide-brimmed top hats keeping the water off their faces, but not much else.

As if drawn by magnetism, Emily’s gaze slid up, meeting the duke’s eyes squarely. He was looking at her, his expression thoughtful. He inclined his head in greeting but said nothing.

“Heavens, ladies. Out walking in this weather?” Mr. St. John exclaimed.

Daphne bristled. “At least we’re only getting ourselves wet. Your poor horses are soaked!”

The duke spoke up then. “We went out for a long ride early this morning, duchess. When we left, the sky was cloudy but not overcast. We did not believe the rain would be this intense. As soon as it began, we turned around for home. Unfortunately, we had ridden quite far. You encounter us on the last leg of our journey. We chose to cross the Park to get home quicker, where our poor, long-suffering horses will be rubbed down with straw in their warm, cozy barns and then fed and watered.”

“I see,” Daphne responded, a little huffily. “That is fair enough, I suppose.”

She blinked, looking a little paler than before.

Anna frowned, eyeing her. “Daff? Are you all right?”

“I’m just a little tired,” Daphne murmured.

Emily caught her sister’s eye and swallowed back a rush of panic.

The baby! Oh, heavens, Daphne, you are a fool. Carrying a baby tires one out, or so I’ve heard. We shouldn’t have let her walk so far.

“You need rest, Daff,” Anna murmured.

“What’s that?” Mr. St. John piped up, nimbly jumping down from the saddle. “Your Grace, are you ill?”

“I’m just tired, don’t fuss,” Daphne snapped, but she really had gone pale.

“Your Grace, may I suggest that you and I escort her to that sheltered gazebo I can see over there?” Mr. St John asked Anna. “I can give her my arm or carry her if need be. My cousin and Miss Belmont can follow us with the horses. I’ll go fetch a carriage for you once she is settled.”

Before Emily or Daphne could say a word—and Daphne did look as though she wanted to argue—Anna spoke up.

“Yes, I think that’s the best thing.”

“I could help,” Emily spoke up plaintively.

“Emily, dear, you are not much good in a crisis,” Anna responded firmly. “Follow behind us.”

And that was that.

Emily stood there, feeling faintly offended, as Anna and Mr. St. John carefully led Daphne to the gazebo in the distance. They had, of course, taken the umbrella.

A wet thump behind her revealed that the duke had jumped down from his saddle.

“If it makes you feel better,” he remarked idly, “I can’t help but feel that you would do much better in a crisis than your sisters give you credit for.”

She sighed. “I hope Daphne isn’t too ill.”

“She merely looked a little tired. Shall we?”

With a flourish, the duke withdrew an umbrella of his own and handed it to her. Taking the reins of both horses in his hands, he set off down the pathway. She was obliged to scurry after him, her arm held straight above her head to shelter them both with the umbrella.

“Do slow down,” she huffed. “I’d rather not slip and fall face-first into the mud.”

The duke bit back a smile, but he obediently slowed his pace, falling into step beside her.

“I do believe,” he remarked slowly, after a moment’s silence, “that promenading is a prerequisite to courtship. There are rules, my dear, after all.”

Emily scowled. “We are not courting.”

“Well, what would you call it, then?”

She glanced up at him, despite her determination not to look at the wretched man at all.

He was annoyingly handsome. His face was pale from the cold weather, flushed in places from exercise. A few locks of dark hair escaped from underneath the brim of his hat, misted with water. There were minute water droplets on his eyelashes, too. She wondered if he could see them when he blinked.

Swallowing thickly, she turned away. The memory of their kiss flooded back, filling her limbs with heat. She rolled her shoulders, clearing her throat and trying to force her thoughts back to a more proper subject.

“Have you been thinking about it, then?” the duke asked, his voice low and raspy.

Emily flinched, spinning around to glare up at him. Her heart was hammering, and she could feel that familiar hot pulse in her gut. She wished it would go away. How could one think clearly under these circumstances?

“I beg your pardon?” she demanded. “To what, exactly, are you referring?”

The duke smiled wryly, tilting his head. “Why, the book, of course. Frankenstein .”

Color flooded Emily’s cheeks.

“Oh,” she muttered, spinning around and walking on.

“ ‘Nothing is more painful to the human mind than,’ ” the duke began, choosing his words carefully and speaking slowly, “ ‘after the feelings have been worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness of inaction and certainty which follows and deprives the soul both of hope and fear.’ ”

There was a brief silence after that quote. Emily stole a look at him.

He was right. At least, the quote was correct. When one’s feelings were worked up, only to be dropped directly into a period of inaction, it was almost unbearable .

“I should like to see you again, Miss Belmont,” the duke said abruptly. His gaze was fixed on the road ahead, his profile cut sharply in the bright light of day. “I believe that you, like me, find Society stifling. I own one of your paintings, you know.”

She flinched, glancing up at him warily. “ Woman In The Window? ”

“No, no. A series of sketches. Your early work, I think. Not generally beloved by critics, but I found it endearing. A woman sitting at a window, staring miserably out at the garden beyond. I recall that a great deal was made of her fine clothing, her youth and beauty, and her wedding ring. And yet, despite all of these gifts, the woman has a miserable expression on her face. The next sketch shows her on her feet, peering out the window at something we cannot see. The third sketch is a little confusing, and the fourth one makes it clear—the woman is up on the windowsill, climbing out of the window. Only her skirts and her flailing legs remain inside.”

Emily bit her lip, hiding a pleased smile. “I called that one The Escape . It was not popular. One of the first pictures I tried to sell.”

“No, no, sketches generally are not. But you told a story in those pictures. I recall the way you used lines to signify movement, the lines of fabric of the skirts, the moving feet. One of the woman’s slippers had fallen off, I remember that. It’s a fascinating series.”

Emily eyed him carefully, trying to work out whether he was mocking her or not.

She decided that for now, at least, he was being truthful.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

He inclined his head. “You should come and see it sometime.”

Emily glanced away, biting the inside of her cheek. “It wouldn’t be proper,” she murmured.

The duke stopped dead, turning to face her.

“Am I expected to believe that you care about that?” he asked, his voice low and earnest. “Are you telling me that you truly care about propriety and the foolish rules placed on us by Society? You must know that most people see these rules only as something to be circumnavigated. Why, do you believe that a woman stepping onto a balcony alone with a man, even for a moment, ruins herself beyond repair?”

Emily shook her head. “Of course, I don’t think that. I could hardly imagine that anybody does.”

“Oh, you would be surprised. My point, Miss Belmont, is that there is so much in the world that you have not seen, have not experienced. Worrying about what is proper and what is not will only rob you of the opportunity to observe it. Think of your art.”

She stared at him, bewildered. “What does my art have to do with this?”

Before she could react, he took a step forward.

Emily swallowed thickly, her eyes widening. He was too close to her. Entirely too close. Anybody could come by and see. Perhaps they couldn’t see how her blood thundered in her veins or how her pulse sped up at his proximity.

They certainly couldn’t see the most improper twinge of desire in her gut.

“Your art,” the duke murmured, his eyes dark, “is something new, my dear. Something different. Mesmerizing, thrilling. Nobody has seen anything like it before. If you were to step outside your ordinary sphere, what else might you be able to create?”

She gulped, her throat dry, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.

“What do you propose?” she whispered, at last.

He abruptly stepped back, and she let out a long breath as if she’d been holding it.

“Find a way to sneak out of your home tomorrow night,” he said brusquely. “I have something to show you. There is more to this courtship for you to explore, my hungry little artist. Leave your house and come to the main street. I shall pick you up in my carriage at the stroke of midnight. You’ll be returned before dawn. Don’t worry too much about your dress—wear only what is comfortable.”

He didn’t wait for agreement or any sign that she’d heard. Instead, the duke turned on his heel and began to stride off along the path, to where Daphne was now sitting on a sheltered bench.

Feeling as though the sturdy ground had opened up beneath her and dropped her into a void below, Emily stumbled after him. Her heart pounded, and her breath caught in her throat.

What nonsense. Of course, I won’t go along with it. Of course not. I shan’t meet him tomorrow night, not for anything.