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

“That is very kind of you, Mr Rayburn,” Emily said. “But I don’t mean to dance this evening.”

“Emily, I am sure the exercise would do you good,” said Amy. “And Mr Rayburn is right, this is the last ball of the Season …”

“His Grace, the Duke of Manning,” Lady Arnold’s butler suddenly announced. The ballroom doors opened, and the duke appeared at last. He wore a simple, perfectly cut evening coat of deep blue velvet that nearly matched his eyes and a gold-shot ivory waistcoat that sparkled in the candlelight. All the light in the room seemed to gather directly on him, leaving all else in shadow.

His gaze slid over the company—and landed right on Emily. She was so startled she had no time to look away or even disguise what she was feeling. That sudden excitement at seeing him, the fear, the giddiness—surely it was all written right there on her face.

Then Lady Arnold hurried over to him and he was surrounded by the crowd. Emily’s fist tightened on her fan.

“Perhaps you are wise not to dance after all, Emily,” Amy said quickly. “I seem to have torn my hem in that last quadrille. Will you come with me to the ladies’ withdrawing room and help me mend it? If you will excuse us, Mr Rayburn.”

His face darkened, and Emily noticed his gloved hand flex. But he merely bowed and said, “Of course. Perhaps we can take a turn about the room later, Lady Emily.”

Emily hastily nodded as Amy took her arm and hustled her away. Her sister-in-law dragged her through the heavy press of the crowd, frantically looking side to side as she no doubt searched for the duke.

“Amy!” Emily whispered. “That was terribly rude to Mr Rayburn.”

“Oh, pooh,” Amy whispered back. “Mr Rayburn has no title and not enough fortune. It was one thing when he was your only suitor, but now …”

Emily glanced back over her shoulder to see Mr Rayburn still watching them, nearly obscured by the throng. Jane stood with him now, saying something into his ear.

“Ah, your Grace!” Amy cried. Emily whipped her head back around to find they were right in front of Nicholas. Lady Arnold watched them with a smirk, but Emily hardly even noticed. She could only see him.

Amy tugged sharply at her hand, pulling them both into low curtsies.

“Lady Granton, Lady Emily,” he said. “How very good to see you again.”

After a few more pleasantries about the weather and the size of the party, Lady Arnold was distracted by more new arrivals and Amy, just as Emily feared, seized her chance.

“Your Grace, Emily was just saying the ballroom is so crowded she feels rather faint,” Amy said, all sweet concern. “We were on our way to seek some fresh air, but sadly I must now repair my torn hem.”

Emily tried to free her hand, to protest, but Amy just tightened her grip.

“If Lady Emily feels faint, I would be happy to escort her on to the terrace for a moment,” Nicholas said. “I am not especially fond of such crowds myself.”

“Your Grace, there is no need.” Emily began. Her words were cut off by another of Amy’s pinches. She was frightfully strong for such a small lady.

“So kind of you, your Grace!” Amy said happily. “I will rejoin you both momentarily.”

She danced away, and Nicholas held out his arm to Emily, watching her expectantly. Emily glanced around, but there was no escape. Everyone around them seemed to be watching to see what she would do, and there was no place to run. There never was.

She took his arm and let him escort her to the half-open doors to the terrace. She was quite sure he must feel trapped by her family’s machinations; she knew that feeling all too well herself. Yet he gave no sign of resentment, no indication he wanted to leave her in the nearest corner at the first opportunity. He held on to her arm and talked of light, polite matters, not even minding her minimal, murmured responses.

Maybe dukes were taught to be excessively polite, even ones from notoriously wild families. Or maybe they just developed finer acting skills than most people, all the better to manage all the demands placed on them. If only there really was a guidebook to such things, as she had wished for! Then she wouldn’t feel so lost and confused around him.

Then again, it was not the duke who confused her. It was Nicholas himself. She glanced at him sideways, secretly. He seemed so careless, so easily, socially polite, yet she was so sure there was something else underneath that ducal surface. She had seen it too briefly at Vauxhall, a raw, passionate loneliness that touched something she hid down deep in herself.

Every once in a while, when he thought no one watched, it flashed in his eyes. But only for an instant, then he concealed it again.

They slipped through the doors on to the terrace. It was a space that only Lady Arnold’s house possessed in London, a wide, enclosed walkway with tall windows opening on to the garden. They could be closed against the chill even as they let in the moonlight, or they could be open to the night breezes as they were now.

It seemed all the potted palms had been moved out here as well, for they lined the walls and made intimate little pathways. Chairs and tables were hidden in leafy nooks, perfect for quiet conversations. The noise dropped suddenly in that space; the roar of the crowded ballroom muted to soft murmurs and laughter. Couples strolled past slowly, pale flashes between the dark green palms.

“I’ve thought of building something like this at Manning House,” Nicholas said.

“It is certainly lovely,” Emily answered. “Are you planning to entertain more at Manning House?”

He laughed wryly. “I suppose it’s my duty to, or so everybody keeps telling me.”

“Hmm,” Emily said thoughtfully. Duty —that is what everything always seemed to come to. They could pretend to be free, to choose, but duty always caught them in the end. “Duty is quite important, though I suppose giving a party once 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.