Chapter 12 #2
Emeline regarded his harsh profile and sensed that he had drawn inward. “Perhaps it was difficult for you, deferring the dukedom to a twin who, one assumes, was born only minutes before you?”
“If you imagine that I care for any of that, you are deluded,” he bit out, eyes flashing.
“The more our father favored my brother and poured his energy into readying Austell to become the Duke of Caversham, the more I burned to get away. My father was a tyrant. I thank God it wasn’t me!
I could not have borne the oppressive rules and expectations attached to such a weighty title. ”
She blinked, sensing the pain simmering beneath his anger. How must it have felt as a boy, to be pushed aside in favor of his twin?
“Yet you love your brother,” she murmured, remembering the scene she had witnessed between them at her grandparents’ garden party. The duke had appeared at times to be pleading with his brother, and Emeline had seen Hart’s brusque manner soften.
“Love?” Hart made a dismissive sound. “Of course I care about him. He is my twin! I don’t want to see him botch his life now that he finally has what he spent three decades preparing for.”
Each time Hart spoke, he revealed just enough to make Emeline long to ask more questions. But all her instincts told her he was done talking about the Duke of Caversham. “I understand, I think. But what about your own happiness? Don’t you ever long for a family of your own? Children?”
“No more than you do, my girl,” he shot back.
“I have said I could not abide a settled life. And, in any event, I should make a devil of a husband.” Then, as they came into a village, he slowed the horses’ pace and looked over at her.
“And what of you, Emeline? What has caused you to stray so far from the accepted path for young ladies?”
How neatly he had turned the questions back on her! Emeline gathered Monte onto her lap and stroked his bristly fur, considering.
“I don’t think I have ever been like other girls,” she said, more seriously than she had intended. “When I was a child, we lived in Cornwall and Brittany rather than London, and Papa went on behaving like the smuggler and corsair he had been for years before marrying Mama.”
Hart sent her a sidelong glance. “He continued to engage in those pursuits?”
“No! But in Papa’s heart that’s who he is.
” Emeline smiled, remembering. “Our home in St. Malo is in the grand row of Maisons de Corsaires, overlooking the ramparts, and the vaulted cellar is filled with all manner of treasures.” She felt Hart watching her as she spoke.
“Growing up, I enjoyed every sort of outdoor adventure, searching out rare birds and fossils and shells wherever we went. At ten, I went off for several weeks to Lyme Regis with Louise, hunting for fossils with the great Mary Anning. My Aunt Isabella, an artist, taught me to paint, so I was able to sketch and paint all the discoveries we made.”
“Amazing,” he said, clearly impressed. “And yet, as I recall, you did not rebel when it was time for your come-out into London society.”
She gave a tiny shrug. “I was curious enough to try doing it the proper way. During my first Season, I was naturally dazzled by the parties, gowns, and the attentions of young men. But eventually I realized it was all hollow and quite dull. Too many men did not care who I really was. They were usually interested only in my looks or my father’s fortune, and that was quite awful.
Before the end of my second Season, I had reached the end of my tether.
” Glancing over, she saw Hart nod. “It came to me that I could choose a different path, one that would not be controlled by men.”
“I see!” He turned to look at her. “And what did your father say when you went off to dig for fossils?”
“Papa? Oh, he balked. We are too much alike, I fear. He would like to guide me…”
“Manipulate, perhaps?”
Surprised, she studied his face, but he had returned his attention to an approaching curve in the road. “Perhaps. But I know how to beat him at his own game. Hence, my counterfeit Bridegroom List.”
“Indeed, very shrewd.”
Warming to her topic, Emeline continued, “You know, it’s not only Papa who makes me feel stifled.
I confess that I was very ill-at-ease today, up to the moment I saw you under the oak tree.
First, I was stuffed into a carriage with Sir Giles and his overbearing mother, then there was that dull luncheon filled with guests who needed to puff up their own consequence.
And finally, although the unveiling of the treasures was thrilling, it was nearly spoiled by those men talking of ways to profit from the sale of the artifacts.
” She heard her voice rising. “I realized that once again I had no control at all, because I am a female. Just like the Reading Room at the British Museum. When dealing with men, women have so few choices!”
Nodding, Hart remarked casually, “What about Lord Melford? Were you out of patience with him today as well?”
“No, not a bit! Tobias is lovely,” she replied quickly.
“I felt immediately at ease with him. And not only was he good enough to welcome me into a gathering among male guests who were well acquainted, but I also discovered that his interest in archaeology is quite serious. Indeed, meeting Tobias was the best thing that happened today!” Had he stiffened at those words? “At Amity Park, I mean.”
“Yes, Melford is a good fellow.” His tone was cool. “We were up at Oxford at the same time.”
Emeline shifted her attention to Monte. “And how is this good fellow? His leg seems much better!” The dog enthusiastically wagged his tail and laid his head on her lap.
“Do you know, I think Monte is proof that you are not as indifferent to others as you pretend to be. Indeed, his adoption is actually evidence of your kind heart.” She waited for him to remind her that he was only looking after Monte until his injured leg healed.
Instead, Hart said, “The mongrel has grown so attached to me that I would be an evil brute to put him out now.” As if he understood every word, Monte stretched one paw toward his master.
“However, it becomes more complicated to have this animal at the Pulteney. There have been numerous complaints about his barking.” He paused.
“And someone has to carry him downstairs and across to the Green Park at regular intervals.”
At this, Monte gave a series of yips that seemed to have a special meaning.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” complained Hart. “There, you see? Now I must find a place to stop and let him out.”
The horses slowed and soon, upon turning down a short lane from the road, Hart was bringing the phaeton to a stop in a grove of beech trees.
In the grassy carpet beneath the treetops, Emeline beheld a profusion of wildflowers: delicate blue harebells, frilled yellow hawkbits, wild pansies, and wood anemones.
“What a lovely spot!” she exclaimed as she followed Hart and Monte down from the phaeton. “I must pick a bouquet to remind me of this day.”
When Hart went to the horses’ heads and spoke to them, they stood quietly, waiting. Monte began to frolic in the grass, sniffing and leaving his mark, while Emeline picked wildflowers. When she looked back at Hart, he was watching her with a gaze so intense it made her heart flutter.
“What is it? Have I done something wrong?”
He shook his head and glanced away. “No. But we shouldn’t linger here.”
Leaving the horses, who remained obediently still, he walked toward her.
Emeline hurried to meet him, still holding the colorful bouquet, but after just two steps her slipper caught on a stone that was nearly hidden by the tall grass.
It all happened in an instant. Emeline pitched forward, the wildflowers scattering in the air, and Hart immediately came forward to catch her.
She found herself in the warmth of his powerful embrace, absorbing his heartbeat, his masculine essence: intangible yet utterly intoxicating. The real world fell away. Time stopped. Reaching up, Emeline twined her slim arms about his strong neck. As their eyes met, desire flared deep inside her.
Hart began to shake his head No, even as he bent to cover her mouth with his, kissing her with raw, fiery urgency.