Amanda McCabe - A Regency Duchess's Awakening - The Shy Duchess / To Kiss a Count

Her mother followed at her heels. “Well, it is a very good sign. You should have invited him in for refreshments. Your papa is in his library, as usual, but I am sure he would have enjoyed saying hello to the duke.”

“I would have thought a dinner party would be quite enough for him,” Emily said, plumping down in her chair. “Mama, why did you not tell me we are having a dinner?”

Her mother sat down across from her, still with that maddening expression of satisfaction on her face, even as she tried to hide it by fussing with the teapot. “It was rather last minute, my dear. An impromptu way to say goodbye to our friends before we are buried in the country.”

“Impromptu when you met the duke and waylaid him outside the shops?”

“Not at all! Really, Emily, you are becoming quite cynical and suspicious. It is not becoming; it will cause wrinkles.” She reached into her sewing box and drew out a sheaf of papers. “Amy and I have been working on the menu. Do you think the duke likes lamb with mint and rosemary sauce? He did seem to enjoy something similar at Welbourne Manor last summer, but I am not sure it is quite the thing now. And we will have to bring in desserts from Gunter’s, of course. Cook is all very well with plain dishes, but not with the puddings. I’m not certain what to do about flowers. Pink roses? You do look lovely with pink, Emily, but lilies are fashionable.”

Emily sighed and poured herself a very strong cup of tea. She certainly needed every fortification she could find, as there was no stopping her mother now. Not when she started to speak about lilies. She smiled and listened to her mother’s plans, knowing that her family needed her help.

There was no doubt about it. Lady Arnold’s ball was the event of the Season.

Traditionally the final grand event before society fled London and the gathering heat of summer for country estates and the pleasures of Continental travel, everyone always went for one last chance to wear their fine clothes before they were out of fashion and hear the latest on dit before it became old news. Lady Arnold had one of the largest ballrooms in London, after Manning House, and she always filled it with the best orchestra, the most flowers and the finest guest list. Anyone who had the merest pretence of being anyone at all was there.

Even Emily, though she could find no potted palm to hide behind at all. It seemed palms were now passé. Lady Arnold instead decorated with loops of ivy intertwined with white roses and white-and-gold ribbons, draped in lacy patterns around the room. Very pretty, but useless for hiding places.

Emily sat on one of the small white brocade chairs lined up along the walls, among the chaperons and wallflowers. Perhaps, she thought, her white muslin gown would help her blend into the upholstery.

That, however, did not seem to be the case. Very few people spoke to her, especially since Jane and Amy were dancing, Mr Rayburn had not yet arrived, her father and brother were off in the card room and her mother had flitted off somewhere with her friends, but many stared and whispered. It appeared the tale of her carriage ride with the duke had spread, and along with the Park incident it all made for delicious gossip. She should have known, of course, that this would happen.

The duke would not care. He and his family had been causing far worse scandals for decades. Emily, though, was achingly uncomfortable.

She shifted on her chair, opening and closing her lace fan. She tried to watch the dancers, the swirling kaleidoscope of their bright gowns and brilliant jewels, tried to distract herself and think of other things. She glanced surreptitiously at the ornate clock against the far wall, and saw she had actually been there less than an hour. And her mother and Amy would never want to leave until one or two at the earliest.

Emily snapped open her fan again and wafted it vigorously in front of her face. Why had she not brought a book with her? She needed to get on with her lesson plans for Mrs Goddard’s, there was not much time left before she departed London and they would have to do without her for a few months.

The dance ended, and Amy’s partner left her at the empty seat next to Emily’s. “Lud, what a great crush it is tonight! I can scarcely breathe,” Amy cried. “My slippers will be in shreds by the end of the evening.”

“Where is Rob? Does he not care to dance tonight?” Emily said.

Amy snapped open her own fan. “You know how he is at these affairs, always off talking about politics somewhere, never any fun. I think he is in the card room with your father. Besides, it is not the thing for husbands to dance with their wives, at least not more than once.”

Emily plied her fan harder as more people strolled past them, still staring. Amy took her hand to hold her still.

“Emily, darling, you will quite disarrange your hair, after I took such trouble with it,” Amy said. Indeed she had spent an hour before they left the house pushing Mary out of the way and fussing with curls and ribbons herself, saying Emily should try to be more fashionable. She straightened the pink rosebuds and loops of pearls caught in Emily’s fine, blonde hair.

“It hardly matters, Amy. The one you hope to impress with my fashionableness is not even here.”

Amy scowled, not even bothering to deny it. “Where could he be? Everyone comes to Lady Arnold’s ball. It is vital to one’s social life.”

“Perhaps it is not so vital for a duke?”

“Of course it is! Why, is that not Wellington himself over there? That is why the Duke of Manning needs a duchess to help him organise his engagements properly.”

“And you think I would be the one to do that? I have no idea how one even goes about being a duchess.”

Amy tsked as she gave Emily’s hair one last tweak. “Of course you do. You give yourself far too little credit, Sister. You are an earl’s daughter, and very pretty, if rather quiet. You know how to run a fine household and move about in society, even if thus far you have chosen not to. Anything you do not know already would be easy enough to learn.”

“Is there a ‘how to be a duchess’ book on the shelves at Hatchards, perchance?”

Amy laughed. “If there was, I would have read it long ago! But really, Em, this is a fine chance for you and for all of us. Rob would be such a good influence in politics, if he had a proper patron to help him, and your parents deserve a comfortable retirement. You should have your own house, before it is too late.” And before she was Amy and Rob’s responsibility and burden, though she did not say that aloud. Emily knew very well it was true, all of it.

“Em, I do think you should—” Amy began, only to be fortuitously interrupted.

“Good evening, ladies,” a deep, masculine voice said smoothly. “May I say how very charming you both look tonight? Quite the loveliest in the ballroom.”

Emily turned away from Amy to find Mr Rayburn standing before her. She hadn’t seen him since that dramatic day in Hyde Park, though he had sent flowers. She had supposed the gossip about the duke and herself had put him off, yet here he was, bowing and smiling at her most charmingly, as if nothing had ever interrupted his sporadic courtship.

How much easier life would be if she could like Mr Rayburn in that way, Emily thought sadly. If he made her pulse race and her cheeks grow hot as the duke did. But life was not often easy. And there was something about him that made her feel so unsure.

Amy frowned at the interruption, but quickly covered it in a polite smile. “Mr Rayburn! We have not seen you in a few days.”

“I was sadly called away from town for a short time, Lady Granton, but I did have to return in time for Lady Arnold’s ball. It is my last chance this Season to beg for a dance with Lady Emily, if she would so favour me.” He never took his gaze from Emily’s face, which was rather disconcerting. Could he read her thoughts there?