Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
T hey’d told no one, kept it secret because it felt rather good to do something for themselves. Even now, they stood at opposite ends of the ballroom. Thank goodness for her height. Not something Emma often thought. Usually, it made her stand out when she wished only to blend in, but tonight it offered her an excellent view of her betrothed where he stood beneath the balcony that wrapped around two sides of the ballroom. He had decided, it seemed, to inhabit the shadows until just before dinner when he’d gather her up, and they’d find his sister, Lady Noble, together. They’d tell her, then they’d tell everyone else.
Emma’s toes danced beneath her skirts, and she sipped at her champagne to calm her nerves. She’d never thought to be a duchess. Was she going to be duchess? Hardly felt like it. Felt like she would soon become Samuel’s wife. The same thing, but different as well.
“You’re smiling.” Rosalie appeared, kicking her elbow into Emma’s ribs. “Does that mean you’ve found a match for Felicity?”
“No.” She’d rather forgotten. Oops. But then, Felicity seemed in no hurry anymore. She danced with one of her suitors now, had not stopped dancing all night. Having fun, it seemed, as were the other unmarried sisters, Emma’s and Samuel’s, the youngest of their combined dozen. They gathered on the balcony in pretty gowns, too young to join the dancers but old enough to feel the desire to join them. Like Felicity, they’d dance all night if possible, dance until they wore holes in the soles of their shoes.
“Then,” Rosalie said, “you’ve decided to read books with me. And the others.”
“Yes, actually.”
“But that’s not why you smile. Let me see if I can puzzle it out.”
“Oh, please do not.”
Rosalie tapped her finger against her lips and scanned the ballroom. She followed the line of Emma’s gaze, which she should have ripped away from Samuel but which she found stayed steadfastly on him no matter the reasons to pretend disinterest. Her smile tugged so tightly cheek to cheek that her face hurt.
“Ah. I see now,” Rosalie said. “You’ve discovered the duke.”
“I’ve not!” Emma snorted. “What do you even mean by that?”
“He’s discovered you, too. Look. He’s scowling at me, pacing like a caged lion. Why, do you think?”
“Who knows? His moods are unfathomable sometimes.”
“Somehow, I think you can fathom them. Well, I’m pleased for you.”
Emma ripped her gaze away from the caged lion and to her friend. Yes, friend. That’s what you called it when you’d be seriously displeased if someone came to harm. And Emma would want to try her new knife-throwing skills at whomever displeased Rosalie. “You are not upset?”
Rosalie laughed. “I’d be upset if I’d had to marry him. No, find me a sensible fellow without so many feelings .” She wrinkled her nose. “They are all so very emotional these days.” She sighed. “But I am happy for you. Happier for me, you eliminated the threat of Clearford. Oh, look, he’s coming this way.”
Emma ducked. “He’s not supposed to! Not yet.”
Rosalie ducked, too. “Why?”
“We have a plan. We’re not supposed to draw attention to ourselves until—”
“And ducking down to have a conversation keeps you out of attention’s eye?” Emma popped right back up, and Rosalie unfurled more slowly with a chuckle, raising her hand and waving across the crowd. “Good evening, Clearford!”
Samuel looked left. Samuel looked right. Samuel’s gaze latched onto Emma’s with a single question in his eye. Does she mean me?
Emma covered her mouth to hide her smile, but when he finally stood right in front of her, rocking from foot to foot, there was no holding it in. She dropped her arms, and if she could look in a mirror now, she knew exactly what she’d see.
“Oh my.” Rosalie clapped her hands together. “You two are smitten. How entirely adorable. Do you mind if I tell everyone that I did it? Once everyone knows, of course. I would love to be the lady who brought the notoriously lonely Duke of Clearford together with his beloved—”
“ Shh !” Emma linked her arm through one of Rosalie’s and dragged her toward the edges of the crowd, Samuel following close behind.
“Oh yes. A secret. Hmm. But why?”
“What does she know?” Samuel asked.
Emma tugged at her glove.
“Em. Ma.” He all but growled it. So slow. So shiveringly delicious.
“Well, if she’d told me not a thing, I’d know now, wouldn’t I?” Rosalie winked. “Do not worry. I’ll keep quiet. Not that this”— she slid a finger from Emma to Samuel and back again—“won’t speak quite loudly before anything or anyone else.” She clasped her hands before her. “I am so pleased.”
Emma’s shoes were quite interesting, and with the heat of Samuel’s regard hot on her… well, her everywhere, she could look at nothing else.
Rosalie sighed. “Do you hear that? A waltz is starting up. Go! Dance, please do. I want the pleasure of watching.”
“Not this one,” Samuel said. “I have come to steal Lady Emma away from you, though.”
“Do you promise not to bring her back to me?”
Samuel’s brows flew toward one another. “Pardon?”
Rosalie leaned closer and whispered, cupping one hand around her mouth, “Do you promise to ravish her, quite thoroughly?”
Samuel popped backward.
“You’ve startled him.” Emma pulled from her friend’s grip and stooped beside her betrothed. “I’ll have to fix him.”
Rosalie wiggled her eyebrows. “You do just that.”
Samuel seemed about to talk. His mouth dropped open, at least. Emma snapped it closed and pulled him off into the crowd.
“Why did I never notice how odd she is?” he said.
“Not odd. Lovely is the word you’re looking for. And she is my friend, so you will have to come to like her.”
“I do not dislike her,” he grumbled. “It is merely I seem to know so many women who behave quite outside the normal attitudes of society.”
“Lucky you.” She’d dropped her hold on his wrist as soon as they’d found a path through the crush, and he herded her forward with a stout shoulder, staying close enough to touch, but never doing so. “What is it you’ve retrieved me for? It’s not time yet, is it?”
“No. I… was thinking.”
“As you were pacing?”
“Helps with the thinking. And I came to the conclusion that I want to tell our sisters. Before we announce it. Not Lottie only.”
She stopped, her heart growing larger than the rib cage that held it. “Of course you do.”
A shared smile was not a touch, but this one felt like it, burning like warm chocolate all the way down, pooling in her belly, warm desire with something better. Love.
“Do you mind?” he asked.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
Together, they climbed the staircase leading to the balcony, and together, they approached the six women standing there. Felicity, breathless from her previous dance, Glenna, Briar, Diana, Gertrude, and June. And one young man with sandy brown hair, leaning against the wall as if the wall depended on it.
“And he is?” Emma whispered to Samuel.
“The young Earl of Avelford. My sister Andromeda’s brother-in-law.”
“Shall he know, too, then?”
“He’s family.” As they stopped before the group, the girls leaning against the balustrade and watching the dancers below, Samuel linked his arm through Emma’s and cleared his throat. “You are supposed to be in the nursery.”
A rustle of skirts as heads turned.
June bounced to the front. “I’m watching. I’m allowed to watch.” She raised her chin, but her gaze flicked to the point where Samuel and Emma intertwined.
Diana nudged up beside June, pointing at their locked arms, head tilted. “Explain.”
Emma tilted her head to whisper near Samuel’s ear, “Oh dear. We failed to consider how insufferable they are going to be.”
He groaned. “Retreat, I think, is in order.”
“Absolutely.”
“It’s not cowardice.”
“It’s self-preservation.”
“Samuel!” three young women said at the same time another three said, “Emma!”
“Right.” Samuel cleared his throat. “No escape.”
“It appears not.”
The young earl gave up the wall to fate and sauntered toward them. “What’s all this, then? Annie and King haven’t said anything.”
“Should we really tell them?” Emma asked, threading her fingers through Samuel’s.
The sisters gasped, rocking back as if the mere threading of fingers could fell them.
“I suppose we should.” Samuel lifted her hand and kissed Emma’s knuckles.
“Catch me, Trudy,” June cried, “I’m going to swoon!” She put the back of her hand to her forehead and teetered backward, lurched off-balance, and fell right into the waiting arms of Gertrude and Avelford on either side. They shared an eye roll that could be seen downstairs and across the ballroom and likely across the Channel and jiggled June until she stood on her own feet once more.
Stood? No. She bounced. “Oh!” She launched herself at Samuel, tackling him in a hug with arms tight around his neck.
Then the others swarmed.
“Is it true?” Diana asked.
Emma nodded.
“I’m so happy I’m going to cry!” Glenna wiped tears from her eyes.
Felicity and Gertrude hugged Samuel, too, the three sisters together almost bringing him to his knees.
“Enough!” Samuel cried, “Enough.” But he laughed.
And held tight in the arms of her sisters, Emma laughed, too, her gaze catching Samuel’s. Sisters. Not a plague. A treasure. Precious and perfect.
“When will you announce it?” Felicity asked, releasing her brother.
“Tonight,” Samuel clasped June to his side.
“Right now, more like,” Avelford mumbled. “Everyone can see up here. I’m sure they’re wondering what all the fuss is about.”
Samuel’s fingers twitched. She’d begun to recognize it as a sign he wished for the reassurance of a blade in his hand. No need for knives now. He had her. Emma took his hand, and his fingers stilled, steadied. Would it always be this way between them? Giving and taking eagerly when needed and in equal measure? It would be a good life if so.
“Have you told Papa?” Glenna asked.
“I wrote to him.” They should likely wait to announce it to the world. She didn’t want to. “I wrote to tell him. Not for permission.” A brazen act. A necessary one.
“He won’t be pleased,” Briar whispered.
Emma hugged her younger sister tightly to her side. “I’ll worry about Papa.”
“Will we stay here? With you, in London?” Diana asked.
“I hope you will.” Samuel tweaked Diana’s ear. “I like to keep a close eye on my sisters, particularly when they are so very mischievous.”
He would keep them happy, too, happier than Papa had ever managed. Or cared to manage.
When Samuel stepped toward her, the sisters receded like an ocean wave with a happy sigh. “I must find Lottie. Wait for me here?”
Emma nodded, and he squeezed her hand, then bounded away and down the stairs. She watched his every step. The perfectly tailored suit of evening clothes, stark black and white sculpted a duke the ton expected, demanded—cool and confident and unquestionably powerful. It hid the man she knew—caring and concerned, doubting and loving.
Better than his clothes, he wore a smile tonight, one that seemed not to leave his lips.
Her smile died as he passed the entry doors to the ballroom. Her gaze snagged on the two men standing there.
Her father and Viscount Parkington.