Chapter Nineteen #2
Emilia could not hide the smile that broke forth from her lips.
Before she stepped into the room, the realities of being a duchess had felt like an impossible burden resting upon her shoulders.
For years, every responsibility that was placed before her had come with scrutiny attached to it—as though she were always expected to prove herself, while simultaneously being expected to fail.
Nathaniel spoke as though he already believed in her. It was a curious thing to have someone look at her exactly the way she had always hoped to be seen.
“I am tired of London,” the duke admitted. “And if we want a chance at a real marriage, we would benefit from being far away from this town.”
Emilia’s heart skipped a beat, “A real marriage?”
Nathaniel’s posture immediately stiffened, and the openness she had glimpsed the night before vanished. His expression remained pleasant, but his eyes were once again impossible to read.
“A comfortable friendship, at least,” he amended quickly. “Do you not agree?” He took another sip of his tea. It seemed to be an effort to calm whatever nerves had suddenly risen, but the subtle bounce of his knee proved it wasn’t having the desired effect.
“Of course.” Emilia smiled, in an attempt to put him at ease. Nathaniel returned the smile, but it was different than the one he had greeted her with.
An awkward silence descended over the room. Emilia lowered her eyes to her plate, though the food no longer seemed appetizing.
“I wrote to Adeline,” Nathaniel’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “They will be expecting us to collect Charlotte by the end of the week.”
Emilia nodded, but before she could reply the door to the breakfast room opened and Briggs reentered the room.
“This just arrived for you, Your Grace,” he extended the silver tray in his hand towards Emilia.
“Thank you, Briggs,” she smiled as she lifted the ivory card from its place on the tray.
“Are you expecting a caller this afternoon?” Nathaniel asked, failing to mask the concern in his voice. They had yet to receive any guests aside from the Blackburns, and the fact that someone had written so early this morning was most likely due to the attention they had drawn the evening before.
Emilia read over the card and shook her head with a deflated sigh. “My aunt is inviting me for tea this afternoon.”
Nathaniel’s eyes widened and his grip on his cup tightened, but his voice came out calm and measured. “Do you intend to go?”
Emilia placed the card back on the tray. “I do not,” she replied. “Briggs, would you please send a reply to the Moorfield residence and inform my aunt that she is more than welcome to call on me if she would like, but I will not be accepting her invitation.”
The elderly man’s eye twinkled, “Yes, Your Grace.”
He smiled in Nathaniel’s direction before bowing to them both and slipping from the room once again. Emilia looked up at her husband, to find him staring at her.
The warmth drained from Emilia’s face. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” Nathaniel reassured her with a smile. “You handled that perfectly.”
Emilia relaxed slightly in her chair, “You would have responded the same way?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Nathaniel replied, gathering up his papers and standing to his feet. “I would have returned the invitation, along with my compliments, and advised Lady Moorfield that she could dispose of both in whatever manner gave her the most satisfaction.”
“Nathaniel!” Emilia could not hold in her laughter if she had tried.
“But that is precisely why you are duchess.” Nathaniel paused at her chair, a light touch brushing over her shoulder as he leaned in close to speak softly in her ear. “From now on, you may handle all of our social obligations.”
Emilia shook her head in amusement as she watched him stride from the room.
“I would be honored, my dear,” she called after him. Nathaniel did not turn around, but she was quite certain she saw a faint blush staining his cheeks as he rounded the corner.
∞∞∞
Tea with Lady Moorfield was considerably less dark and dreary than it had been in the past. Perhaps it was because of the light and airy curtains that allowed golden light to filter into the duke’s drawing room, or the floral wallpaper her aunt had not stopped raving about since she sat down.
But Emilia was quite certain it was due to the fact that she no longer lived her life under the threat of an impending storm.
Louisa sat across from her mother, beaming. Her attitude towards Emilia had improved drastically since she had last seen her—most likely, Lady Moorfield had convinced her of all the potential advantages that came with having a cousin who was a duchess.
Emilia smiled politely as she sipped her tea, while Louisa relayed her plans for her presentation next season.
“Mother and Papa believe delaying my entrance into society will prove most beneficial. The Duke of Kenswick is certain to have many influential acquaintances, and another year will give us ample opportunity to cultivate the proper connections and secure the most advantageous match.”
Emilia nodded silently. She was quite certain Nathaniel would be less than enthusiastic to learn he had been included as part of Louisa’s marriage strategy.
“Speaking of His Grace,” Lady Moorfield interjected smoothly, though it was painfully obvious she had been waiting for this very topic to arise. “I heard whispers that he attended the Langley Ball last evening. Unfortunately, I did not have the opportunity to speak with him.”
The insinuation in her voice was barely hidden. Emilia had been anticipating this topic of conversation, but her aunt’s probing gaze did not feel nearly as intimidating as it once had.
“Yes,” Emilia replied. “We were both in attendance.”
“You left so early.” Lady Moorfield’s pointed gaze didn’t waver.
Emilia hummed softly, taking another sip of her tea. “His Grace and I were in agreement that there are far more pleasant ways to spend an evening than in a crowded ballroom.”
The moment the words slipped off her tongue, Emilia realized how they must have sounded. She glanced up to find Lady Moorfield staring at her over the rim of her teacup—and judging by her scandalized look and Louisa’s wide eyes, that is exactly how they had interpreted them.
Normally, Emilia would have hurried to correct the misunderstanding, yet even as a small blush crept up her cheeks, she decided that rendering her aunt speechless was worth the momentary embarrassment.
“Well,” Lady Moorfield cleared her throat delicately. “I suppose that explains why we have yet to receive a response regarding the dinner party.”
Emilia’s confidence wavered for the first time since her guests had arrived. It had been over a week since Nathaniel had promised to write their refusal—perhaps he had simply forgotten.
“I apologize, Aunt. There must have been a miscommunication on who was sending our reply,” Emilia said truthfully. “I assure you we were not intentionally keeping you in suspense”
“I would hope not,” Lady Moorfield scoffed. “I would expect better manners from a duke.”
“Perhaps from the duke,” Louisa laughed under her breath. “From what Miss Robbins mentioned this morning, there seems to be some question as to Emilia’s…”
Lady Moorfield lifted a silencing hand. “I am sure that whatever transpired last evening was simply a misunderstanding, was it not, Emilia?”
The question settled in the air like a challenge. Emilia had surrendered plenty of challenges in an effort to maintain peace, but if she backed down from this one, she knew it would be seen as a retreat.
“Well, if that is the case,” Louisa smiled brightly, none deterred by her mother’s earlier warning. “You will have plenty of chances to clear the air at the party.”
“I am afraid we will be unable to attend,” Emilia said with forced politeness. “My husband wishes to return to Rosemore Hall. We leave for Derbyshire on Friday.”
“Surely your departure could be delayed by a single day.”
“It could,” Emilia agreed. “But we do not wish to delay; we wish to go home.”
Lady Moorfield scoffed, her scowl creating deep lines across her forehead. “It is such a disappointment, Emilia. Everyone is already expecting the duke to be in attendance.”
“Perhaps you should not have promised something that you have no influence over.”
Her aunt’s eyes burned with anger, but Emilia met her gaze without wavering as Nathaniel’s words echoed clearly in her mind.
You need not yield…
“Honestly, Emilia, I scarcely know what has come over you.” Lady Moorfield pressed a hand to her chest, her nose turned up in offense.
“We are your family. You know how difficult it has been to preserve our standing these past few years, and after all the trouble you have caused, the least you could do is attend a dinner party.”
“I understand your disappointment, Aunt. However, my decision remains unchanged. If your reputation has sustained as much damage as you suggest, I fail to see how our presence at a single dinner party would repair it.”
“Marriage seems to have provided you with a newfound confidence. Though I suppose it does come much easier when speaking with another person’s authority.”
Emilia let the pointed words fall harmlessly to the ground, no longer allowing them to stick into her skin, “You are certainly entitled to your opinions, Aunt. However misguided they may be.”
Emilia rose from her chair, signaling for her maid who stood diligently in the corner of the room. “Sophie, you may clear the tea. My aunt and cousin will be leaving now.”
She turned back to Lady Moorfield and curtsied slightly to her and Louisa. “Thank you for calling,” she said with all the sweetness she could muster. “I wish you both a pleasant afternoon.”
Emilia turned and walked towards the door, leaving their stunned silence behind her. She gripped the banister tightly as she ascended the stairs, her hand trembling slightly, but she could not keep the smile from her face.