A Regency Duchess's Awakening. Amanda McCabe
in a while would not be a very onerous one.”
Not like marrying someone you didn’t want because your family demanded it. Not like having to keep teaching work secret because it was not proper.
“And that old behemoth of a house seems good for nothing else,” he said. “My family hates to visit it, and who can blame them? It’s huge and draughty.”
“They won’t visit you at Manning House?” Emily asked in surprise. The Mannings and Fitzmannings didn’t seem to care where they were, as long as they could pile in on each other. “That is not very kind of them.”
“Not at all, Lady Emily. I would much prefer to visit them in their houses, which are much cosier and happier. But I do think a party might lure even them to Manning House.”
They stopped at the far end of the terrace where two corner windows met, sheltered by a thick bank of palms. It was very quiet there, no voices except the whistle of the wind past the glass. She could almost imagine they were alone there, just the two of them as they had been at Vauxhall. It was disconcerting, making her quite nervous—yet also strangely comforting. In the midst of the vast crowd she felt so terribly lonely. Here, with just him, she did not feel alone at all.
She peered out into the night, at the swaying shadows the trees made against the star-lit sky. “This would be a fine space for a Venetian breakfast on a sunny day. Or maybe a little dance party, where everyone could see the moon as they ate their dinner.” She could see it in her mind, her own party planned her own way. Her own home, where she could run things. Surely she would be good at it!
“It would also be a perfect place for me to set up my new telescope,” he said.
“Telescopes? You mean those tube things scientists use to study the sky?” Emily was intrigued. She had read of such things and how they worked, and had wondered what it would be like to see the night sky closer, really study it and know what it was.
“You know of them?”
“Oh, yes, I have read of such things. They sound marvellous. But I did not know that anyone at all could possess one. They sound quite—rare.” And expensive.
“I ordered mine specially made in Italy. My—well, some friends there told me of a glassmaker who can grind lenses to exact specifications. It is nothing as large as something the Herschels would have possessed, but it gives me an excellent view of the stars. I even glimpsed a comet once, streaking across the sky—” He broke off with a rueful laugh. “Forgive me, Lady Emily, for boring you. My newest enthusiasm has me carried away, I fear.”
“I am not bored.” And indeed she was not. She was fascinated by this deeper glimpse of him. “You actually saw a comet?”
“Right over there.” He pointed past her shoulder, out the window to a cluster of bright stars in the east. “I wasn’t sure what it was at first. But when I studied it through the telescope—oh, Lady Emily, I wish you could have seen it. It was the most glorious thing.”
“I can imagine it must have been.” Emily stared up into the sky, leaning her cheek just a tiny bit against his sleeve. She couldn’t help herself. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to drift away up there into the stars? To escape this place and just—be?”
She had never said such a thing to anyone before, never hinted of any such fanciful yearnings. She didn’t know what made her say it now, but Nicholas didn’t make fun of her. He just nodded.
“Of course I do,” he answered. “Doesn’t everyone think of things like escape once in a while? Wonder what it would be like to find a different world?”
“Not everyone,” Emily said, thinking of her own family. They didn’t imagine being anyone but who they were, which was why they fought so hard to hold on to their place in society. And that gave her a cold reminder of the way Amy had practically pushed her on to Nicholas.
She turned to face him, putting her back to that fanciful night sky. “You don’t have to stay here with me, your Grace. I know you have many important people you must speak to.”
He gave her a crooked grin, and that ridiculously alluring dimple flashed in his cheek. Just as it had at Vauxhall, below the edge of his mask—right before he kissed her foot.
Suddenly weak, Emily leaned back against the window. The glass was cool through her thin muslin gown.
“People more important than Lady Emily Carroll?” he said.
“Oh, please, your Grace, don’t tease me!” she burst out. “I know my sister-in-law practically forced you to come out here with me. My family can be so—overwhelming. But I don’t want you to feel obligated …”
“Lady Emily.” He caught her hand in his, and she was so surprised the words strangled in her throat. “Do I look as if I am easily—overwhelmed? That I can be forced to do something I don’t wish to?”
“I …” She thought of that steel behind his easy affability, so seldom glimpsed—and all the more formidable for it. “No, I suppose not.”
“Then is it so unbelievable that I would rather be here watching the stars with you than chattering like an inane fool in a crowded ballroom?”
“Yes,” she blurted.
He laughed, and raised her hand to his lips for a quick kiss. His mouth was warm and surprisingly soft through her silk glove, reminding her all too acutely of how it felt, and tasted, against hers.
“How little you know me, then, Lady Emily.”
“I don’t know you at all, your Grace. Which is surely for the best, for both of us.”
His brow lowered in a frown. “What do you mean?”
“I mean …” Emily closed her eyes tightly. That confusion she felt whenever he was near came over her yet again, just when she most needed to be clear-headed. “Oh, your Grace! Nicholas. It was me, and I am so sorry.”
“It was you?” he said. He sounded as confused as she felt. “What do you mean? What was you?”
She opened her eyes and forced herself to look him in the face. He was gilded by the moonlight, his face and hair all molten gold like an ancient statue of some pagan god. She could bear it no longer. She had always been a terrible secret-keeper, except when it came to her teaching, and somehow keeping secrets from him was harder than anything. He was not like Mr Lofton, she reminded herself, or like Mr Rayburn. He deserved the truth from her.
“It was me at Vauxhall,” she whispered. “In the broken shoe. I didn’t mean anything by it, I promise, your Grace. I’m not sure what came over me, I just …”
Much to her shock, he laughed. Laughed! He kissed her hand again. “Shh, Lady Emily. Enough.”
She snatched her hand away. “Why are you laughing? I am completely serious!”
“I am not laughing at you. You just look so very—earnest, my lady. When I am the one who should confess and apologise.”
“You should …?”
“Yes. You see,” he said, ducking his head with a slightly sheepish expression incongruous for a duke. “You see, I discovered it was you before you confessed, and I must apologise to you.”
He knew? All along? And he had just let her stammer guiltily, let her feel terrible for days? “You knew it was me?” she cried, completely forgetting they were in a public place.
Emily suddenly felt angry. Anger was unladylike and, worse, unproductive. It did nothing with her family, and it never improved anything. Only work did that. But now she felt—yes, she felt angry! She pounded her fists against his chest. It hurt her hands, but he was so surprised she was actually able to drive him back a step before he steadied himself.
“Emily!” he said roughly. “Calm yourself. I never meant—”
“You