Page 11

T here was a strange lump in Freddie’s throat, making it hard to swallow.

It must be down to the absolute exhaustion he was experiencing.

He’d had no idea raising a child would be so hard.

He was constantly on alert, never able to truly rest because he was always worried something bad was going to happen to the little girl whose life now depended on four men who had no idea what to do with her.

Somehow, Emily knew exactly the right thing to do.

Of course she did, because she was the most intelligent person Freddie knew, but still, it was humbling to know, once again, that he didn’t measure up.

Emily had shifted Charlotte onto her hip and was talking to her about her doll and Charlotte was saying something in return.

It was too quiet for Freddie to make out, but it was words.

Somehow, Emily had done something that encouraged Charlotte to speak, thereby confirming what he already knew – that Emily was perfect.

‘I think you had better leave us, Mr Dashworth,’ Emily said, turning to look at him.

‘Oh, I…’

‘No lady wants to get undressed with a gentleman around.’

It was on the tip of Freddie’s tongue to say that sometimes they did, but he managed to stop the highly inappropriate remark before it burst out of him unheeded.

For the first time in his life, he was watching what he said because the consequences of saying the wrong thing suddenly meant something when there were impressionable young ears around.

‘Very well.’ He bowed, suddenly ridiculously formal. ‘I shall leave you ladies to it.’

Charlotte’s soft giggles followed him out of the room, and he longed to remain, which was everything to do with seeing his niece smile and laugh and nothing at all to do with the woman who was making it happen.

He wandered the flowerbeds that butted up against the veranda, pulling absently at the few determined weeds that had somehow escaped Tom’s eager eye.

Normally, Freddie was at his happiest outside, the wildness of it mixing with the uniformity of human design.

It took his mind away from day-to-day troubles as he thought about the perfect way to combine the two.

But today, he could not settle. Most of the time, he didn’t miss the fact he couldn’t read; words never seemed to stay on the page for him, not like they did for others, and that was not something he could discuss with a single soul.

If anyone knew, he’d likely be carted off to some mental institution to have his brain studied.

He’d reached this age being able to cover it up and he would do so for the rest of his life.

His friends might be more learned about current affairs, but Freddie was able to cover up his lack of knowledge with a quick joke or a story about a mutual acquaintance.

It had worked for him for years and, as he was unable to change the situation, he was…

if not entirely happy with his life, at least content with the way things were.

But right in this moment, it would be good to have something to occupy his mind other than his thoughts, a book or a newspaper to read perhaps.

For some incomprehensible reason his brain kept focusing on the way Emily had been smiling when he’d opened the door to her earlier .

He hadn’t been lying when he had told her that she looked different, although he realised it hadn’t been the best way to describe the way her eyes were shining with delight.

He’d never seen her look like that, which was probably partly his own fault.

It would be hard for her to look at him with happiness when he was teasing her for some reason or other.

Perhaps she was excited at the thought that the Duke of Glanmore had offered her the use of his library; she did love books after all.

Or… his stomach turned over… perhaps Emily was as excited as her mother over the prospect of ensnaring a duke for a husband.

He rubbed his upper lip, the thought of her actually entertaining the idea of marrying his brother making him want to cast up his accounts in the flowerbed.

‘Mr Dashworth.’

His head jerked up at the sound of Emily’s voice. Unfortunately, he was still holding weeds and his involuntary reaction made him throw the weeds and some mud at himself.

‘I am sorry,’ he said nonsensically.

A wide smile spread across her face and his heart flopped like a landed fish. He really was going to have to get over this reaction to her if she became his brother’s wife.

‘I am not sure why you are apologising to me.’ Her smile widened, doing strange things to his insides. ‘It is not me you have thrown stuff at. Why were you holding on to a handful of mud?’

The urge to tell her that he loved gardening was on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed instead. He could imagine her amusement fading and her look turning to scorn. It would not do for a gentleman to go scrubbing about in the soil like a labourer and it would only solidify her opinion of him.

‘I meant to throw it at the duke,’ he said instead. ‘There is nothing he enjoys more than to be covered in dirt. ’

Emily’s smile spread and she erupted into deep, throaty laughter, a sound that shot through him as potently as a rich port.

His body urged him to go to her, to press his mouth to the column of her neck.

His mind desperately tried to remind him that she was his nemesis, the one person who was completely immune to his charm, who found him to be a flippant fool.

She would not welcome his attention and yet… and yet…

No. There could be no more thoughts of her in this way. Not only did she regard him as slightly higher than pond life, his brother was considering making her his duchess. She was out of his reach in every way.

‘Lotte is sleeping.’ Emily’s voice was soft; she was as in love with Charlotte as the rest of them. It was amazing the spell the little girl cast over everyone she met.

‘Why do you shorten her name?’

The smile faded from Emily’s face. ‘Should I not? I do not mean to be over-familiar.’

Gah, he was making a hash of this; this was another reason the two of them did not get on.

The words that normally flowed so effortlessly from him became garbled and rude whenever he was confronted by her.

Perhaps it was an unfortunate reaction to the way his body seemed to adore her or perhaps it was the way her beautiful forehead was always wrinkled in a frown whenever she looked at him. Whatever it was, it was irritating.

‘You can call her whatever you choose. She responds to you in a way she does not to the rest of us. I was wondering why you spoke to her that way from the moment you saw her.’ He held up a hand. ‘This is not an insult.’

‘It is interesting that you need to explain your intent.’

‘Not to everyone else. ’

Her lips thinned as he unintentionally insulted her again. He cursed under his breath; she frowned and he shook his head. Surely she couldn’t have heard him.

‘Would you like a tour of the ducal library?’

Her lips parted slightly, and he couldn’t blame her. He was surprised he had asked as well. It meant prolonging their afternoon together, but part of the deal for her help was access to the books and no one could deny the amount of help she had given them.

‘Yes, I would like that.’ It was his turn to be surprised.

If he’d had time to think about it before he’d asked, he would have predicted that she would turn him down and come another day when the duke was in residence, but obviously the allure of the library overrode her antipathy towards him.

She must love books even more than he’d realised.

‘And in answer to your question, I do not know why I shorten her name. It seems right. Perhaps it is that Charlotte is such a grand name for such a sweet little girl.’

He cleared his throat, searching for something to say. It was so odd not to be sparring with her in some way.

‘Is it really that hard to find some polite words?’

His skin burned. ‘How did you know that is what I was doing?’

‘You are sort of scrunched like this.’ She twisted her lips while scrunching her nose.

‘Surely no person who has ever lived has pulled that expression? Aside from you, obviously.’

She shrugged. ‘I do not know how you manage it either.’

He snorted as something inside of him relaxed. This was more like it. ‘Shall we?’ He gestured towards the house. ‘I am afraid my brothers are all out.’ He didn’t know why he mentioned that, but he was relieved when her expression didn’t change at the mention of the duke’s absence .

He wondered where her maid had got to; they really should collect her for propriety’s sake, but Emily did not seem worried and then he decided he didn’t care.

It was not as if he was going to take advantage of her.

No matter how much his body screamed at him that this was a wasted opportunity, his mind was still in control.

Mostly. Enough that he would not do something inappropriate or desperately foolish but not quite enough to stop his awareness of her.