Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
T he estate was, as expected, as beautiful inside as it had been outside. Everything was newly decorated, and for an unmarried man the Duke of Pridefield was certainly in keeping with what was fashionable. He had set all of his guests to explore the estate to their hearts’ contents, and they were to be in the drawing room that night to share a drink before they went to a grand dinner. Everything had been meticulously planned, which Cecilia seemed to scoff at.
“You know,” she whispered, looping an arm around Emma’s, “if I were a duke, I would make all of my guests stop what they were doing when I thought they should. They would be on my schedule.”
“Then it is just as well that you are not a duke,” Emma laughed, “for I might not have enjoyed your company so much.”
Cecilia laughed in turn. She had always been a spirited lady, and having long since discovered that such behavior turned suitors away, she did not seem to care at all.
“We are going to the greenhouse,” Cecilia explained. “Dorothy has heard about some plants that she has never seen before. Will you be joining us?”
It was an incredibly tempting offer, but Emma knew that she was there for a reason, and that went far beyond listening to her friend regaling them with tales of different plant specimens. Sarah was her priority, and she had to act accordingly.
“I am afraid not. I must escort my sister to make some introductions.”
“Oh dear, is your father threatening to make good on his word?”
“It would appear so. He mentioned it in the carriage. If I do not find a match for her, then he will, and I cannot bear the thought of that.”
“Nor can I,” she sighed. “Very well, but if the two of you grow weary of the same foolish men over and over, you know where we shall be.”
Emma nodded, and Cecilia left to find the others. She went to Sarah, who seemed quite apologetic about it all.
“You really should spend time with your friends,” she said kindly. “Father can accompany me, I assure you.”
Emma raised an eyebrow at her sister, and at once the younger lady’s resolve disappeared.
“I know,” Sarah said. “He is not a very good matchmaker, but then I am not the easiest to find a match for. I am very particular.”
“And you have every right to be. I shall hear no more of this, not when we have so many introductions to make.”
Fortunately, Sarah had made a very good impression during her presentation to the Queen, and it had led to many gentlemen vying for her hand. She was seen as a prize, just as Emma had been—once—and Emma was pleased that she had not ruined her sister’s prospects by not marrying.
The ton knew exactly who she was, and Sarah recognized the newer faces that Emma did not, and so they managed perfectly well.
They came across a gentleman that was watching Sarah. He was relatively tall, not particularly muscular and was quite plain. There were no strongly discernible features to him, with the exception of the fact that he wore spectacles.
“William Mercer,” the gentleman greeted, bowing to the two of them. “The Right Honorable Baron Rosendale.”
Sarah curtseyed in return, but Emma was not so easily taken by the man. Sarah had always longed for a love match, and Emma was willing to do anything to assist in that, but it was still necessary for her to have protection and security, and that required more than such a title as baron.
Even so, he was a handsome man, and if it meant that Sarah could use it as a practice of some sort, then it would not be so bad.
“Miss Sarah Kendall,” Emma said for her.
“Truly, you are a remarkable beauty,” he smiled. “Might you sit next to me at dinner tonight?”
He certainly had confidence. Emma went to respond, but before she could, Sarah had already opened her mouth.
“It would be my pleasure,” she replied sweetly, and the gentleman nodded and walked away.
It was very uncommon for Sarah to respond so quickly. It had always been Emma’s duty to decide what was right for her sister, after all.
“Sarah!” she hissed. “Why on Earth did you do that?”
“I do not know. I panicked. I did not want to hurt his feelings.”
“No, which is why you leave it to me. Fear not, it is only to be one meal. We will find you better than a baron.”
“I am perfectly fine with his title, Sister. I am aware of the Mercers, and they are very wealthy. I would be well taken care of.”
“Then why did you have that look on your face?”
“What look?” she asked, quickly turning horrified. “Please do not tell me it was obvious. I would hate to have caused him any offence.”
“Not at all. I only noticed because I am your sister. I must ask, though, what you were thinking.”
“Well, there was no harm in it, truly. He simply does not look like the sort of man I thought I would marry.”
“Then we shall find you another. There is no harm in it.”
“I know, but I do not wish to judge him too harshly. Fortunately, it appears I shall be seeing him at dinner.”
Emma smiled fondly at her sister. She liked that her sister was kind, though she was concerned that such kindness might have been to her detriment at times. They continued on their way, but nobody truly caught Sarah’s eye. Though Emma tried not to mind too terribly, she had to admit that she was growing wary of her sister’s prospects. Should she hope to marry, she would have to find the right man soon. She was not yet twenty, but Emma had thought of herself as young and full of possibilities for far too long. And then the years slipped by and suddenly she was a spinster.
It had been a choice for her, but she did not want that for Sarah.
By the time dinner was announced, they had not found anyone to suit Sarah’s tastes. They went to the dining hall, marveling at the grandeur of it, and then an elegantly liveried servant led them to their seats. Emma had, of course, hoped to stay with Sarah, but there was only one seat beside the baron. Emma gave her a quick smile for luck before being led away to another part entirely. She looked at the table before her, an expensive oak one with a long red runner on top of it, and tried not to think about what Sarah would be doing. Instead, she counted the marking lines of the wood, whispering to herself.
“Are you trying to fall asleep?” came a deep voice.
Emma turned to her left to see the same devilishly handsome man from before, the Duke of Lupton. He had a friendly enough expression, but his large build made his presence a looking one, and it was not one that Emma had ever truly noticed in a man before.
“No, I was… well, I was counting the table markings, if you must know.”
“And here I thought the Duke of Pridefield always hosted the best parties.”
He was only saying it in jest, but she felt incredibly guilty nonetheless. She felt heat rising in her cheeks, which did not go away no matter how much she willed it to.
“You know,” he continued, “I do like a lady who blushes.”
She flushed even pinker, which made her furious with herself. It was a most unbecoming manner for a man to speak to a lady, but she could hardly say as much. She could not cause a scene, not when everyone in attendance knew her sister.
She turned away from him, facing forward. Across from her sat Miss Gretchen Winston, and she was scowling at her. Emma knew her well enough, given that she and Sarah were acquaintances, and from what she knew Gretchen was not the brightest young lady. She was known to be quite the fool, and that made her easy pickings should a gentleman ever want to… pluck Thankfully, it appeared that nobody did.
“Good evening,” Emma greeted, hoping that the scowl had not been deliberate. “Have you enjoyed your first day?”
“Yes.”
That was all she intended to say, judging from the tight set of her mouth. Emma nodded, looking down again. A strange lady, she thought, but no stranger than most.
“It is so rare for a lady that says exactly how she feels. It is admirable, I must say.”
It was the Duke of Lupton, and he seemed to have turned his attentions to the younger girl. Emma was completely vexed at that– how brazen, how completely out of line?
Gretchen, of course, brightened in an instant.
“Thank you, Your Grace. I prefer to be honest and open. I cannot bear to dance around feelings.”
“I could not agree more. I actually think more ladies should be like yourself, wouldn’t you agree, Miss Kendall?”
“I believe we have rules in our society that we all must follow, Your Grace. Would you not agree that we have them for our own protection?”
“We do, but I would argue that it is also enjoyable to push those boundaries. That is where a good deal of entertainment comes from, after all.”
“I would have to disagree with you,” she said firmly. “You may enjoy such things, but I am not so inclined.”
“Is that to say that you would never wish to see a contortionist?”
“I have never seen one, no.”
“But, should the opportunity arise, you would not have any interest in seeing it?”
“I do not understand why you are asking me this.”
“Well, you would never climb onto this table and fold yourself into unimaginable shapes, would you? And yet, it is a perfectly acceptable thing to watch as entertainment. That is to say, there is a time and place for breaking such rules, is there not?”
He was trying to engage in conversation, not to bother her, but she wanted no part in it. Then again, she considered, Gretchen seemed very naive to what was an obvious rake, and she may not have had a good introduction to her, but she wanted to protect her regardless. It was the right thing to do.
“You may find examples such as that,” Emma protested, “but my point stands. We are expected to act a certain way here, and so I believe we should do so.”
“Would that mean that I am forbidden from telling Miss Winston that I think her green eyes are beautiful, and that I wish more young ladies style their hair like her?”
Gretchen was thoroughly enjoying what the Duke of Lupton was doing, but Emma could see through it.
“If you can do that, then I can do the same,” she nodded. “And if you ask me, I think fewer gentlemen should be like yourself, Your Grace. Tell me, did you have a say in where we were seated tonight?”
“No, I did not.”
“How interesting, for neither did I. Therefore, if we did not choose to sit beside one another, one could also infer that neither one of us has the intention of talking to one another.”
“True, but I believe it is polite to do so.”
“And I believe polite society frowns upon blatant flirtations across the dining table.”
He smiled at that, and it only made her angrier.
“My apologies,” he said, trying to take his smile away. “You simply– you are quite a funny lady, you know.”
He chuckled, and Gretchen did the same, though Emma was not entirely certain that Gretchen knew why it was a supposedly funny thing to say. Emma certainly did not.
What infuriated her, however, was how nice his laugh was. It was a gentle sound, far softer than she had expected from a man of his stature. It was that pleasantness, though, that made her so angry. He had no right to be so charming, not when his intentions were so evident to her.
The meal could not have ended soon enough, and Emma was thankful to leave the room at once. The guests dispersed to different drawing rooms, and Emma watched for which one the Duke of Lupton entered and deliberately chose another. Thankfully, she found Sarah inside. She was sitting by the Baron, smiling and laughing with a lemonade in her hand.
She froze for a moment, bewildered. What exactly had passed between her sister and the Baron at dinner?
Before she could go to her, however, her friends stepped in front of her. Cecilia was smiling brightly, while Beatrice and Dorothy were looking at her with no little amazement.
“So,” Cecilia began, “these two shall be of no use speaking, but they had questions. What is happening between yourself and the Duke?”
“Nothing at all,” Emma protested, seeing the flicker of disappointment in her friends’ eyes. “He is a scoundrel, a rake through and through. I knew there had to be a reason for the way he greeted me today.”
“He certainly has a reputation, yes, but that does not signify. I have a reputation for being impossible to hold a conversation with, and yet you know that to be untrue.”
“It is not his reputation that concerns me, it was the way he spoke to me. And to my fellow diner, as well.”
“Gretchen Winston?” Dorothy managed to muster. “Why do you care about her? She is awful.”
“Be that as it may, nobody deserves to be ruined, and with the way he spoke to her, it was clear to me that those were his intentions.”
“Does that mean we cannot hold out any hopes for a courtship at all?” Beatrice pouted.
“Indeed. Should I ever see that man again, it will have been too soon. My apologies, but I must speak to my sister.”
Her friends nodded and stepped to one side, and Emma approached her sister. Before she could reach her, however, her father took her wrist and turned her to face him.
“I will not have you ruin this,” he growled, menacing although quiet enough so as not to draw any attention. “That is a perfectly fine gentleman for Sarah, no thanks to you.”
“I understand, Father. I was only trying to–”
“No. You could not do the one thing that you spinsters are supposed to be good for. If you cannot help your sister, then I will not allow you to be a hindrance to her either. Leave her be.”
Emma knew better than to disobey him. She stole another glance at Sarah, who had not even noticed her, and when her father left her alone she turned toward the door to leave.
“Emma, what is it?” Cecilia asked, suddenly wary.
“It is nothing, Cecilia,” she assured her. “I simply need a moment for air.”
“We shall come with you.”
“No, no it is quite alright. You are all enjoying yourselves.”
“Well, we shan’t do so knowing you are unhappy.”
“I am not unhappy,” she protested. “I simply need a moment for myself. I shall return in just a moment.”
Thankfully, they did not protest any further and she was able to leave. She choked on the air once she stepped outside, her hand over her chest. It felt as though she could not breathe.
She was a failure of a sister. She had to find Sarah the best possible match, and now she was sitting in the drawing room with a baron that she did not know at all. It wasn’t what they planned, and she blamed herself entirely. She had to be the one in charge. She had to be the one to find the perfect suitor, and now–
She heard a giggle nearby.
Snapping out of her panic, she stepped forward carefully. It was an incredibly girlish giggle, accompanied by a deep whisper. The hairs on her arms stood on end. Thankfully, of all people to catch someone being improper, scandalous even, Emma knew that she would not engage in gossip and ruin. She followed the voices until she found them, and she almost fell to the floor.
It was the Duke of Lupton and Gretchen, standing far too close to one another, whispering and laughing. Rage filled her at once, and she stormed over to them.
“What do you think you are doing?” she accused the Duke in a hushed voice. “Who do you think you are?”
“I am speaking to a lady, and I am the Duke of Lupton.”
Gretchen giggled again beside him, and Emma was completely dumbfounded by his reaction. He had been seen , which meant he had imperiled Gretchen’s precarious reputation. He might have to marry the poor girl, or rather he would have if Emma told anyone. Fortunately, Emma would never do that to another lady— could he tell as much? Was that why he was acting in such a manner?
“Stay away from her,” she hissed, pulling Gretchen away.
“Of course,” he replied brightly. “As you wish, Miss Kendall.”
Why, she thought, does he refuse to argue with me?
Thankfully, however, the crisis had been averted. She would tell Gretchen to be careful and there would be no harm done.
Then she saw Gretchen’s scowl again.