Page 1 of Only a Fortnight with the Duke

CHAPTER 1

“ L ady Emmeline!”

Clark Manor lay comfortably tucked in amongst the trees just where the line of its sprawling fields came to an end, folding over a soft hill into the start of the woods. Lady Emmeline was a bright gem, her face a shining distraction against the calm landscape. Even her surroundings appeared to favor her, alighting her chartreuse eyes like colored glass and painting pink roses over her girlish cheeks.

At least, this is how Miss Clark came across to certain parties.

“Why, Lord Viscount!” Emmeline’s smile was wide, bright, and mischievous as she stepped down from the crate at the base of the stone wall, where she’d been admiring the ever-changing watercolor sky as the sun rose slowly over the day. “What a kindness you do us that you appear so often at our home.”

Lord Reginald Bancroft stopped just inside the gate of Clark Manor’s front garden and removed his hat, leaning his shoulder against the wall beside him. Eyes like two clear lakes followed Emmeline’s quick path to him with a smile, reaching up to smooth the fine mustache over his lip. He was happy, as always, to see that his old friend had abandoned her youth but never her youthful spirit.

“Miss Clark, you are always quick to give praise. If I did not know your disposition as well as I do, I might be suspicious.”

“Suspicion is nowhere in your countenance, my Lord,” Emmeline countered, her voice low and rich like a woodwind instrument. “How do you do, this fine morning?”

“It is quite like a noblewoman for you to ask, thank you. I’m quite well. I arose with the sun, my duties were few and simple, and then I took a pleasant stroll here to find the most interesting creature in my friend’s garden.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. The creature is short…with hair like hay and?—”

“That’s enough of that!” Emmeline giggled, covering her face with her mouth as her cheeks flushed pink from the Viscount’s teasing. “You must try harder if you wish to vex me, Lord Bancroft. I see right through your folly.”

“Ah, so you do, my Lady.” Reginald winked, and his eyes wandered away from his sweet friend and off into the garden, a glaze of deep thought fogging the clear waters of his irises. Emmeline saw right away that he was distracted, looped her arm through his free elbow, and started on a turn about her family gardens. The sudden gesture and movement took him back to the present moment, and he smiled once more as they fell into step beside one another.

“Will you be at the ball tonight?”

“I would not miss it for all the world, Lady Emmeline. My favorite dance partner is said to be in attendance.”

Curiosity added a slant to Lady Emmeline’s smile for only a moment before she understood and giggled at the sweet jest. “She will, indeed, Lord Bancroft. Alas, she may be occupied with other callers by the time you make your entrance. It is well known amongst the ton that the Viscount is prone to tardiness at such events.”

Reginald lifted one brow and tilted his head toward her in one smooth gesture, his smile never faltering. “I have never known you to stray too far from the gentlemen you have a lively rapport with, my dear friend. Yet, here you are with a springy step and a glint in your eye. Is there someone special attending this ball?”

“Aside from yourself?”

Reginald chuckled, and for a moment they walked together in a comfortable silence beneath an especially bright patch of sunlight which shone on his hair and turned the light brown strands into a rainbow of reds and greens and yellows. Emmeline admired it and was reminded of the prism of colors on a ballroom floor. Physically, she walked beside her close friend in her gardens, but mentally, she was already at the evening’s ball—hopeful and merry.

“Indeed,” Lord Bancroft murmured, bringing her to a stop just at the entrance to her home. She turned politely to face him, slipping her arm away from his and gracefully placing her hands together before her. “I know when you are dreaming of romance, Lady Emmeline. Who is it that has caught your eye?”

Emmeline blushed, politely, the flush betrayed to be practiced by the way she swallowed and the hollow of her throat flexed. He had seen her do it a hundred times in front of men she could not find a romantic interest in but who were, dubiously, interested in her. “There is no one of particular interest, my Lord. Rather, there is a particular way about the air today.”

“The air?”

“Yes, Lord Bancroft. Why, can’t you feel it?” Emmeline shut her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “There will be something magic about the event tonight. I am certain of it. I shall find you at the ball tonight and I will be eager to hear that you found this to be true.”

“Then I shall seek you out in earnest,” Reginald told her with a sliver of his old smile still written over his face.

“By the way, what is it that brings you here today?”

“I’ve business to speak of with your father, if you must know. I apologize for the brevity of our conversation, but you have reminded me that I do need to take my leave of you.”

“Of course. It was a pleasure all the same, Lord Viscount. May your business grow your fortunes both, and, likewise, might your fortunes be high tonight at the ball. I know that last we spoke you were thinking of taking a wife soon. Perhaps she will be in attendance.”

“Perhaps. Have a fine rest of your day, Lady Emmeline.”

Emmeline watched Reginald walk away and herself retired to a bench outside to sit and read for a bit. The book in her lap was a love story—one she had read again and again over the years, and one she picked up often when she was most lonesome. It filled her with hope each time she read it that her true love might be out there waiting for a slot on her dance card.

“Lady Emmeline.”

The eldest Miss Clark could not be sure how long her head was bowed over her books, exactly, but a great deal of time had passed. Her eyes, a bit bleary from reading, looked around to find her maid approaching her, and the magic she had just a bit ago spoke of to Reginald drained like her usual color from her cheeks. Emmeline had chosen to make the best of a sour situation by being optimistic, but the sight of her maid come to call upon her made everything feel that much more real.

“Is it time for me to come inside?”

“Yes, my Lady. I took my time in preparing everything, but we must make haste now to prepare for tonight’s party.”

Emmeline tilted her head to the side with a gentle smile. “I’ll be right there, thank you.” She watched, unwavering, as the young maid walked away, then took a moment to sit back and press her shoulders against the stone wall behind her. Shutting her eyes, Emmeline took in a great big breath and then released it.

She took only a second, dwelling with great intention upon the book in her hands. It appeared only in novels or stories that romance bloomed with any genuine spirit between two lovers. It was not lost on Miss Clark that she had been quite popular in the ton amongst the fine young men of eligible age, but not one of them had been able to offer her what she truly wanted: a bond born of mutual respect and strengthened by true love. Her father felt she was running out of time at twenty years now, but Emmeline disagreed.

What was time to happiness?

“Emmeline!” The Earl of Stanton’s voice boomed from an upstairs window, and the girl tilted her head up to look. “Make haste, my dear. We have much to prepare before this evening.” Idly, she wondered whether Reginald had left through the back door so as not to disturb her, or whether he was in the study from which her father called, smoking and speaking of political matters or perhaps the property he had just acquired.

“Coming!”

In a flurry of fabric and talented fingers, Emmeline was dressed in a fine pink gown with silver trim and matching embroidered dragonflies and flora. Her maid carefully, deftly worked at her hair. Sarah was just a bit older than Emmeline, but she had worked and lived at Clark manor for as long as anyone could remember. The younger girl recognized a familiar gleam in her maid’s eye.

Knowingly, she asked, “Do tell what it is that is on your mind, dear Sarah.”

“I haven’t a clue what you could mean, my Lady.”

“It is quite unlike you to play coy,” Emmeline giggled, the movement pulling on the strands of hair which Sarah held firmly and causing a pain to Lady Clark’s scalp.

“Do not fuss so,” Sarah chided. “I will tell you if it keeps you from yanking every strand of your own hair from your head.”

“Quickly, then, lest I arrive to this evening’s ball with a silken head.”

“It is just that I noticed you promenading with the Viscount this morn.”

Emmeline scoffed, tugging at the hair in Sarah’s hands once more as she laughed and adjusted herself. “I would hardly call that a promenade, dear Sarah. We spoke for a few minutes of the ball, then he went inside to see father. Why would you take an interest in Lord Bancroft so suddenly?”

“Does my Lady not have fine conversation with the Viscount?”

“I do.”

“And does my Lady not find him to be a suitable match?”

“For any young lady, to be sure.”

“And for you?”

There was a pause, and silence stretched thinly between the two women. Sarah had never once been disciplined as a servant by the Clarks, though she had never given a reason to be. Emmeline thought that it strange that she would choose now to test those boundaries.

“For me?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Certainly not! Lord Bancroft is a dear friend. We have become too familiar for romance to bloom between us. It would be very much like marrying my brother. What could possibly possess you?”

Sarah tutted, securing a thin braid around Emmeline’s bun with a pin and starting on another. “Aye. I do not suppose to know the nature of your relationship to him, Lady Emmeline. May I make a light suggestion?”

“To what end?”

“I am only thinking of your comfort, Lady Emmeline. Your father may well be serious about the deadline he gave you for marriage. If this is to be your last season?—”

“Papa only said that while he was cross,” Lady Clark interrupted. “I had as many proposals last season as ever, and he of all people will understand that I need to fall in love. It is his own fault—if he wanted me to be more comfortable in settling for a marriage of convenience, he ought not have set such a precedent.”

“Yes,” Sarah sighed wistfully. “Lady Beatrice was a remarkable creature. I have not, in all my years, seen a married couple more devoted to one another.”

“Have you met many married couples in your years who were in love at all?”

“Not any of your station, Lady Clark.” Sarah pinned the last braid and stepped aside to admire her work. “Status and wealth often tempt people far before love ever finds its way into their hearts.”

“Then I shall set a new standard, Sarah. Love will prevail again, for there is not money nor status enough in all the world that could tempt me away from romance.”

“Very good, my Lady. I will go and have the carriage brought around.”