Page 12 of Only a Fortnight with the Duke

CHAPTER 12

E mmeline and Simon saw each other only once before she arrived at the retreat, escorted into the dining hall by the Duke’s staff to find that she was the last one to appear. It was immediately obvious to everyone present, after one brief but poignant look exchanged between the two of them, that all was not well between them. She sat beside Lydia, ignoring customs and the empty seat on Simon’s side. She was greeted warmly by her friends and Lady Mary.

“Tomorrow we’re going riding,” Mary announces, her excitement clear on her face. “His Grace says that you are a brilliant horseback rider. Will you teach me to be like you? I adore horses, but I am easily frightened of them.”

Emmeline smiled warmly, extending her hand over the table to Mary for her to take. “Of course. I would be honored, though I am sure that His Grace speaks far too highly of me.”

“Surely not! He could not speak highly enough. I have known you for not even a fortnight and already I know that I could not love you more!” Mary exclaimed, her heartfelt sentiment met with a roar of warm laughter from the others.

“Then I shall gracefully accept your compliments,” Emmeline laughed heartily, squeezing the other girl’s hand with affection.

“We have also heard that you are well-read, Lady Clark,” the Duke of Newbridge added.

“And a witty conversationalist,” added William Cleassey, who could have been his sister’s twin for how much they resembled one another. “Although I could have told him that before he rattled on.” Emmeline was amused to see Simon’s expression change at the mention of her friendship with William Cleassey.

“What he has not told us while we waited for you to arrive was that you are quick to temper, too,” his brother, James, added from beside him, his voice dry. His blonde hair was long, framing his pretty boyish features and stoic expression, though Emmeline knew this to be his natural disposition. He was a sweet, soft spoken man otherwise.

“Enough,” she giggled, waving the attention away. “Must I suffer this embarrassment? I was only a half an hour late, and it was not at all my own fault,” she protested.

“What was the cause?” Margaret asked, her voice laced with concern.

“Nothing quite serious. My father took his sweet time bidding me farewell is all.”

“That’s right, you are not often away from home without him like this.” Lydia smiled sweetly. “He will be eagerly awaiting your return home. We shall make sure that you arrive in one piece, glowing from all the merriment we will endure.”

Dinner passed without incident, then the group retired to the ruckus room for a small rout of sorts. Lady Emmeline and Lady Mary linked arms and took a turn about the room. Lady Margaret refereed a game of cards between her eldest brother and the Duke of Newbridge. Lady Lydia played the pianoforte for the remaining Lord Creassey and the Duke of Blackwood.

“Are you and the Duke at odds?” Mary whispered, her head tilted toward Emmeline’s ear.

“I can not say for certain,” Emmeline admitted, quietly, her eyes roving in his direction. “We had a row.”

“He must feel the same.”

“How can you tell?”

“I could not tell that anything was sour between the two of you until he arrived. I believe that everyone spoke of his praise for you in jest, but it was not a lie. He could not keep your name off his tongue.”

Emmeline smiled wryly. “Then perhaps he is not cross. I will find out soon, dear Mary. I do not intend to ruin the weekend.”

“You could not if you tried,” the younger girl insisted with a bright smile as they approached Lydia and the two men. “Shall we retire here and listen to Lady Lydia? She plays delightfully.” Emmeline nodded, and the pair came to stand at the pianoforte and listen to the Beethoven song Lydia played from memory.

After it was over, Lydia sighed and leaned back as if it had worn her out. “That is enough from me for tonight,” she said.

“Lady Emmeline, you should play for us,” Lord Creassey insisted, his smile bright. She nodded her head, patted Mary’s hand, and sat at the bench. It did not escape her notice that Simon’s gaze was burning holes into the blonde man’s head for the familiarity with which he spoke to her. She would need to tell him sooner or later that she and the Creassey boys had grown up together as cousins or siblings, too close to ever consider romantic inclinations between one another.

“I have heard Lady Emmeline play,” Simon said, his tone measured. “She is quite good, but not as talented as Lady Browning.”

“No one is,” Emmeline said warmly, shuffling through the sheet music there on the stand. She selected a piece that was not as complicated as the one Lydia had just played and began. Lydia stood beside Mary and linked her arm in hers, and the ladies leaned their heads together while they listened. It was all quite warm and affectionate, as if the group had known each other all their lives and were family rather than new acquaintances. The hour was late when they retired, at last, but they were awake early in the morning, excited to begin their adventure directly after breakfast.

Emmeline was in the stable with Onyx, watching with a scrutinizing gaze as Simon’s stable boy readied her saddle, when a piercing scream sounded from outside. She excused herself, calmly, so as to not upset the horses any more than was necessary, but as soon as she was outside she ran toward the source. Mary was on the ground, cowering, as her brother struggled to control the horse that Simon was going to let her borrow. Emmeline went to the mare, holding up her hands peacefully.

“Whoa, girl,” she said, calmly, reaching up to see if the horse would let her touch her snout.

“Emmeline! Don’t–”

“Wait.” Simon was stopped by Margaret, who held out a hand as he attempted to go to her. “She knows what she’s doing. We’ll only make matters worse if we all approach.”

With a soothing voice, Emmeline spoke to the horse until she was calm, then took her reins from George and carefully led the anxious mare back into the stables. When she returned, she brought out Lunette, who looked almost bored in comparison to the other horse. Simon and George fretted over Mary, who insisted she was alright, but looked frightened when Emmeline approached with another horse.

“I would very much prefer to stay here,” she said, immediately, before Emmeline could even attempt to convince her otherwise. The older woman smiled kindly, and held out her hand to Mary.

“Just come and meet her.”

Tentatively, Lady Mary stepped toward Lunette. The horse didn’t flinch, her playful nature quelled by Emmeline’s commanding presence. She knew not to make any sudden movements while her mistress’s hand was on her neck. Mary glanced at Emmeline, questioning, and Lady Clark nodded her head.

“Go on.”

The crowd of friends watched with bated breath as Mary reached out to pat Lunette’s cheeks gingerly. “Will she really let me ride?” Mary whispered.

“She will.” Emmeline bent closer to Mary, like she was going to share a secret. “She even let His Grace, the Duke of Blackwood ride her once, and you know well how men are quite smelly.”

Mary giggled, the juvenile joke breaking the tension in her brow. Lunette nudged her cheek, passively, then stilled under Emmeline’s gaze. “She’s beautiful.”

“Yes. What happened before, with the other horse?” she asked, glancing around at large toward anyone who had seen. Simon spoke up.

“She bumped into George’s horse while he was being prepared and reared up. She knocked Mary over in all of the excitement.”

“But I wasn’t hurt!” Mary added, smiling fondly at Lunette. “I will ride if I may ride her. What’s her name?”

“Lunette.”

“Oh, such a pretty name for such a pretty girl,” she cooed, earning an appreciative whinny from her new friend.

“You may absolutely take Lunette. She’ll be good to you.” Shortly after the upsetting incident, once everyone had spoken of it until there was nought left to be said, the entourage set off on the trail that the Duke had planned for them all through the grounds of his estate. The first half was easy riding–a winding path took them through hills covered in long grass and wildflowers. It was gorgeous, and the riding was easy and slow.

Emmeline stayed at the back, next to Lunette and Mary, though it was clear that Onyx was growing impatient with the slow gait. “He sees all this space and does not know why he must keep pace with his slower sister,” Emmeline explained to Mary, playfully, when she inquired of the horse’s constant snorting and nickering.

“Oh! I did not know that we were holding you back, Lady Emmeline!”

“Not at all. It will be good for him to practice patience again. He was injured not long ago and has only just recovered.”

“Lunette is a perfect mare,” Mary sighed happily, casting admiring eyes toward the sleek black horse. “We haven’t any horses to ride at home. We have only the carriage horses, as George does not travel very long distances. When he does, he borrows a horse from His Grace, who has more than any one man could need.”

“You are more than welcome to call on me and ride Lunette whenever you please. She would like it very much.”

“Oh, really? Thank you, Emmeline! May I? Call you Emmeline, I mean. I know I have before, but–”

“Yes, of course,” Lady Clark laughed. “We are familiar enough now. You are amongst friends, sweet Mary.”

“Then it is settled,” she sighed happily. “You truly are my closest friend, Emmeline. I will come calling on you as often as I like.”

“I should expect nothing less.”

The group came to a stop, and Mary and Emmeline were nearly caught off guard by it such that they were engrossed in their conversation. Simon turned his horse around to face the others.

“There are two paths at this point,” he said, pointing first to a path that disappeared into the forest, and then to a path that appeared to wind and turn back the way they had just come. “The one through the forest is more difficult, but the other is longer.”

“Would you mind very much if I took Onyx through the forest?” Emmeline asked Mary quietly.

“Oh, of course not. Like you said, he’s itching to be challenged! I’ll ride with George,” Mary answered, urging Lunette forward beside her brother. In the end, only Simon and Emmeline were willing to break off from the group.

Once they were alone together, they each opened their mouths to speak simultaneously. Simon laughed, and shook his head. “You first.”

“You called me Emmeline,” she said immediately, feigning offense. “In front of all of our friends, at that!”

Simon looked genuinely embarrassed. “I was concerned. It was not my intention. I forgot myself.”

“Oh, I am only pulling your strings,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at him for not playing along. It was clear that whatever lay between them unresolved was too much to be brushed aside without speaking again.

“ Lady Emmeline, I think we ought to–”

“Do you want to race?”

“I beg pardon?”

“Let’s race. You’re riding your best horse, and I mine. Let us pit them against one another. Onyx has not been able to run in quite some time. I can tell he would like to.”

“But Lady Emmeline, I–”

“Hyah!”

Emmeline and Onyx were off in a flash, and Simon, a competitive man with a playful spirit, wasted very little time taking off after her. The horses were evenly matched, and more than once Simon got close enough to overtake her, but in the end, Emmeline was the more experienced rider. She made it to the end of the forested path first, slowing to a stop with her victory cheer stuck in her throat as she looked out upon the view.

The end of this riding trail led to the top of a hill, from which all of Blackwood Estate could be viewed in sprawling jewel tones. The Duke rode up behind her, just short of a tie, and they sat together in a moment of shared awe, Simon’s eyes on Emmeline as the sight took her breath away. Aside from losing the race, the moment could not have gone more perfectly if he had planned it to go exactly this way himself.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” she whispered, as if her reverence could keep this place a secret from the sky that looked down upon them.

“You’re right,” he breathed. “The view is second to none.”

When Emmeline turned to look at him, she smiled so hard that it brought a rose tent to her cherubic cheeks. The light from the sun streamed in from behind her, casting her in a surreal glow and turning her beauty ablaze. He could see the deep emerald tones of her eyes so clearly that they were like pools he could nearly imagine himself leaping into.

“You’ve been hiding this place,” she accused playfully.

“No,” he laughed, his horse trotting up next to Onyx. They pressed forward together, slow, taking in the beauty of the land for as long as was possible. “I take every opportunity I find to come here. I often feel desolate, upstairs in the darkness of my study, wondering why an estate requires so much work–so much time locked away that I can hardly enjoy it. But this place reminds me in a way of what I do it for.” Something unspoken stuck in his throat and settled in the air before him–that this tenderness toward the particular spot atop the hill overlooking all of his property was reserved for the future, when a family he did not have yet might enjoy it and make his efforts worth every moment of distress.

She knew the feeling well, as she had seen it draped over her father’s aching shoulders and settling in the folds of his wrinkles as time tugged at his once handsome features.

“My Papa often talks about the same,” she offered, her voice gentle. “His study overlooks the riding trails I took you on, and he said many times how it was comforting to look up from his work and see me or my mother upon them.”

“You must have inherited her fierce spirit.”

“And her riding skills,” Emmeline agreed, softly. “I wish I could show her this. She would have loved it.”

“How long has it been that you have been without her?”

“I was ten and two years old when she left us.”

“You were young.”

“Yes. Too young to know how to cope properly, but old enough to understand what had happened. A cruel fate. She fell ill so suddenly, and she herself was quite young. I did not want to ride for a long while after she died, but eventually, it became the only place where I could find her again.”

“And now?”

“Now, she is everywhere. I am reminded of her constantly.”

“That must be painful.”

“It is, but it is also comforting. Like love tends to be. I can feel her arms around me though they are not there. I yearn for her, but know that she walks with me through life.”

Simon watched her, her head tilted up to the sky as she thought of her mother, and he envied her a little. He’d posited before that her fantasies of love and romance were child’s play, an idea which vexxed her like he had not seen before. Now, learning more of the root from which her dreamlike state came from, he understood better, and he wished he could believe, too.

“I apologize, Lady Emmeline,” he said softly. “For my earlier outburst. I knew that…the matter of love and its entanglement in romance and marriage was significant, but I allowed myself to forget from whom you learned it. Your mother was important to you, and she believed in love, so to scrutinize it is to–”

“Yes,” she said airily, breezing past the subject. “Could I ask you something, Your Grace?”

He was surprised by her willingness to forgive him and move on from their row so quickly, but nodded his head anyway, curious what she had to say.

“When we are in private, I would like…I would like to forget formality and honorifics. I would prefer that you call me Emmeline. Like we would if we were in a real courtship.”

Simon could not tell what her motivations were for this, but it pleased him. He hoped it to be an indication that her affections for him were growing.

“Then I shall call you Emmeline,” he said, holding her name in his throat with great reverence, “and you may call me Simon.”

Emmeline smiled widely. “Only in private,” she reminded him.

“Of course. You will be Emmeline to me only in private. I will not forget myself again,” he chuckled.

“Thank you…Simon.”

The Duke was surprised to find he enjoyed the sound of his name on her tongue, and grinned, turning his face forward as they neared the bend that would return them to the estate where the others were.

Idly, she mused, “What of your parents, Simon? What were they like?”

“They were as parents should be. They taught me a sense of duty and propriety. I was raised to understand and skillfully handle the responsibilities of becoming a Duke, which I am grateful to them for. I had a pleasant childhood.”

Emmeline seemed almost affronted by the sudden change in his demeanor from warm and welcoming to cold and distant. “Is that all? Were they so practical?”

“I suppose.”

“Simon, I–”

“Lady Clark, I see the others nearby. I will ride ahead and join them. Follow me. If you like.”

Emmeline watched the Duke speed off down the path and felt her heart sink, concerned that she had overstepped in asking of his parents. She herself would not have offered the insight about her mother that she had merely for being asked. She allowed him to get a ways ahead of her, then sped up herself determined to move past the oversight and forget what had transpired at the end of what was otherwise a perfect outing.