Page 21 of His Tempting Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #4)

CHAPTER 21

“E mily, the tea!”

Emily glanced down in time the following morning to see that the cup of tea she was pouring was overfull, tea spilling onto the saucer, and from there onto the neat white tablecloth. With a squawk, she put the teapot down at once.

It was too late, of course. Tea pooled on the tablecloth, the teacup and saucer swimming like soup bowls. She winced, patting the spreading pool of tea with a napkin.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” she murmured.

Octavia sighed, shaking her head.

A footman came forward, gently removing the ruined cup of tea and clearing the space, whipping off the soiled tablecloth. In the space of a few moments, a fresh tablecloth had been laid out and a cup of tea was steaming in front of her.

Emily bit her lip, staring down at the cup. It seemed odd to think that only a few years ago, such an incident would have been a disaster. They didn’t have tablecloths to spare. Or tea to waste, for that matter. Their servants were mostly laid off, and Octavia had spent hours poring over the household accounts, pinching and pinching until they could make ends meet.

If she had wasted so much tea then, spilling it on the tablecloth, Emily would have had to scrub the stain out herself. Times had certainly changed.

When the footmen were finished with their work, they retreated, leaving Octavia and Emily to stare at each other across the table.

Octavia was leaning back, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed.

“There’s something you aren’t telling me,” she said shortly. It was a statement, not a question.

Emily wilted a little. “I’m fine, Mama.”

She glanced at the clock. It was past nine, their usual hour for breakfast. Cassian had said that he would call on her in the morning. That meant that there were only a few hours left until he arrived. How would she bear it?

Octavia sighed. “You must think I’m a fool. Is this regarding the Prince Regent’s offer? If you ask me, you ought to take him up on it, money notwithstanding. His patronage will do you good.”

Emily bit her lip, glancing away. “I intend to take him up on his offer. I’ve already started to sketch out the five pictures.”

“Oh? And what are they going to be?”

“Well, one is his birth, one is his ascension to the position of Regent, and the other three?—”

“Yes, yes, all very nice, Emily, but let us not beat about the bush here. If your worry is not these paintings, then what is wrong? I’m not a fool, you know. I am your mother. Every time I look at you, you seem to be staring off into the distance, worrying about something or another. I know when something is wrong, and I’d like to know what’s bothering you. You’re my only daughter left at home, Emmie. I want to make sure you’re safe and happy.”

Emily managed a weak smile. “I am happy, Mama. I just?—”

The door opened, and the butler stepped in.

Flinching, Emily spun around. “Yes, what is it?” she asked eagerly. “Is there a guest?”

The poor butler stared at her in consternation. “A… A guest, Miss Belmont? At this hour? I am afraid not. I have only brought Lady St. Maur a few calling cards left last night.”

Emily wilted a little, feeling silly. “Oh,” she muttered.

The butler retreated, leaving a heavy silence in the room. Emily glanced over at her mother.

“Well,” Octavia drawled, “would you like to tell me who you are expecting?”

Emily swallowed. “N-No. Whose cards are they, Mama? Anything from any gentlemen?”

“No, no gentlemen,” Octavia responded, setting the cards aside and leaning forward. “Emily, I have been thinking. At the end of this Season, I think you and I should go to Bath for a few months. It’s such a pleasant place, and it’ll be a good opportunity for us both to rest and recover. This Season has not been a nice one. You have suffered a great deal, I know that. And with Daphne already suffering from morning sickness—heavens, I can recall how I suffered from that—she’ll need us at our best, ready to assist her.”

Emily said nothing for a moment, staring down at her plate.

“You don’t believe I’ll marry this Season, do you, Mama?”

Octavia looked a little embarrassed. “I think perhaps you have burned your bridges a little too decisively, my dear. You know that I love you, and I shall always love you, but perhaps we ought to plan for the future ahead of us, not the future we wish we had.”

There was a long silence between the two of them. While Emily was struggling to come up with a response, the butler reappeared in the doorway. The man looked bewildered.

“My Lady, you have a guest. A… A gentleman.”

“A gentleman?” Octavia echoed. “At this hour?”

The butler swallowed. “It’s the Duke of Clapton, Your Ladyship.”

There was a taut silence. Octavia’s gaze flickered to her daughter, her lips twitching.

“The duke?” she repeated. “Goodness. What a surprise. Well, you had better show him in, then.”

The butler winced. “My apologies, Your Ladyship, but the duke is… he’s already inside. I tried to tell him he had to wait outside, but he would not listen. He is in the parlor.”

Octavia gave a wry smile, rising to her feet. She glanced at Emily, raising her eyebrows. “I see. Well, shall we see what he wants, Emily? Although I rather think that one of us already knows what he wants.”

Emily bit her lip, smoothing down her skirts and praying for her nerves to settle. “If you say so, Mama.”

* * *

Cassian was a little annoyed at himself. There was no need for nerves , and yet the uncomfortable feeling he was not familiar with bubbled in his gut.

He had not slept well the previous night. After asking his butler to organize a carriage to take Emily home—his butler was a discreet man, and would not breathe a word—he had retreated to his room, undone the buttons on his breeches, and slid a hand below his waistband. A man could not rest in such a state.

I should have let her touch me.

He pushed that thought away firmly. He had a reason for what he had done last night. He did not want Emily to fall in love with him, of course. This marriage was all a matter of convenience, and feelings on either side would only complicate matters.

I do not have feelings for the girl . It would simply be impractical. Didn’t I promise Matthew that I would never make such a foolish mistake? If I must seduce her into marriage, then I shall do that.

He had tried his best not to think about the deadline his wretched father had set. But he knew that the deadline was approaching fast. Soon, it would be too late to produce an heir, and he would lose his inheritance.

It was most likely that Emily would have no trouble conceiving a baby. After all, her mother had produced three children with ease.

And then we can separate if we wish.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat.

She won’t wish to live with me. She simply won’t.

He heard footsteps approaching and got up neatly from the armchair he’d chosen.

Lady St. Maur entered the room first, with Emily trailing behind her. Emily’s eyes were wide, landing on him at once with something like… warmth.

“Your Grace,” Lady St. Maur greeted smoothly, flashing a smile that did not reach her eyes. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

Cassian gave a wry smile at her obvious insincerity. He couldn’t blame her for her dislike. She doubtlessly knew about his attempt to blackmail her daughter, to say nothing of their disastrous almost wedding. Perhaps she also blamed him for how Miss Daphne had very nearly been ruined. She would have been ruined had she not stumbled upon the Duke of Thornbridge and married him.

Still, Cassian found his eyes straying to where Emily stood. The rug stretched out between them. He wanted nothing more than to cross it, to snatch her up in his arms, to pull her close to him.

He wanted to kiss her again, to press his lips to her throat and feel her pulse hammer. He wanted to let his hands slide over her curves, feel her heart beat faster beneath his touch. He wanted her .

“Your Grace?” Lady St. Maur prompted, sounding as if her thin store of patience was already running out. “This is a most unusual hour.”

“I shall get to the point,” Cassian spoke up. He had rehearsed his speech in his head, and he noted wryly that he was not offered a seat or a cup of tea. “I have asked Miss Belmont to marry me.”

Lady St. Maur folded her arms tightly across her chest. “Again, you mean? However, I am not sure your first proposal was really a proper one.”

He inclined his head. That was a fair point.

Lady St. Maur turned to Emily, who was hovering beside her, eyeing him expectantly. A flush was spreading across her cheeks, creeping down her neck. When he met her eyes, she blinked rapidly, drawing in a breath.

“Emily, would you step out for a moment? I would like to speak to His Grace alone.”

Cassian had not been expecting this. Neither had Emily, judging by the startled look on her face. She glanced between the two of them, then sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“Yes, Mama.”

She cast one last glance at him, the look in her eyes something he could not quite interpret, and slunk out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Silence fell like a heavy blanket.

Lady St. Maur turned an unblinking stare on Cassian.

“I’m sure you entirely understand my reservations about this matter,” she began, her voice quiet and firm. “Emily is my last daughter left at home. She is a little more… vulnerable than her sisters. Anna could always take care of herself, and Daphne, too, is a forthright and assertive young woman. I am not certain that you are the best match for my daughter. Not after everything that has transpired.”

“I understand. However, Miss Belmont and I have discussed the issue, and we feel that marriage is exactly what both of us need. After all, the incident to which you refer has damaged my reputation, too. We have thought it over, free of troublesome emotions, and have come to this conclusion.”

Lady St. Maur narrowed her eyes at him. She really did not like him, it was eminently plain.

“Oh? And when and where, exactly, did you have this lengthy and intimate conversation with my daughter?”

Cassian frowned. He had not anticipated that question.

“I…”

Lady St. Maur sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, I think it is better that I do not know. If you have spoken to Emily about this, and she has agreed to marry you, then I will not oppose it. She’s of age and has a mind of her own. If she has set her mind on something, I daresay she will do it without my blessing, so you do not need that either.”

Cassian swallowed, drawing in a deep breath. “No, I do not need your permission or your blessing. But I would like to have it, even so. Emily adores you. It is… refreshing to see a family so close to each other. I should not like to separate her from the people she loves, even if I cannot offer her love myself.”

Lady St. Maur’s expression softened a little at that. Cassian had not planned such an emotional speech, and his words had taken him a little aback. Still, it seemed to have worked.

“You shall have it, then,” Lady St. Maur relented. “I give you my permission and my blessing. But mark my words, Your Grace. I shall be watching you closely. I love my daughters, and like any good mother, I shall be as fiercely protective as is necessary. You had better take care of her, and do her no harm.”

He bowed. “I promise faithfully, Lady St. Maur.”

She eyed him for a moment longer as if she could not quite make him out.

Sighing, she turned to the door and called out, “I know you have been listening, Emily. You may come in now.”

The door creaked open, and a red-faced Emily slipped inside.

“I was not eavesdropping ,” she insisted stoutly. “I just happened to be nearby.”

Lady St. Maur met Cassian’s gaze, rolling her eyes.

Suppressing a smile, Cassian glanced at Emily, and a wave of affection washed over him, so intense that he blinked, a little taken aback.

Stop it, man. This is a marriage of convenience. You desire the woman—of course, you do—but that is all. Lust and love are two entirely different things, are they not?

“You’re willing to marry the duke, then?” Lady St. Maur asked.

Emily nodded, her gaze flicking to Cassian. He felt a rush of heat when their eyes met.

“I am, Mama. I think it’s for the best.”

Lady St. Maur clapped her hands together. “Then all that is left to do is organize the wedding ceremony and take care of the details. How long will that take? A week? Two?”

“Actually,” Cassian interjected, “the banns have already been read before the previous wedding. The notice has appeared in the Gazette , and all the paperwork has been procured. As to the official wedding ceremony, it could take place as quickly as tomorrow. It’s all over but the vows.”

Emily flinched at that, and Lady St. Maur glanced at her, raising her eyebrows. “Well, Emmie? Do you wish to get married so quickly?”

Emily breathed in deeply, meeting Cassian’s gaze once again.

Abruptly, he found himself back in the library, with her pressed against him, her arms tight around his shoulders. He blinked, and they were tangled together on the chaise in that circular room in Clara’s house, a sketchbook lying forgotten on the floor. He swallowed thickly.

“Yes,” Emily responded, at last. “Yes, I would like that.”