Nancy Atherton - Aunt Dimity and the Duke

The library was flooded with light. Dozens of candles, in candlestick holders of every conceivable size and shape, stood flickering from every available surface. Grayson and Kate were seated side by side on the couch, and Derek faced them from his accustomed chair near the fire. His curls were almost dry, and he’d changed into fresh jeans and a cobalt-blue cableknit sweater. Grayson had changed, too, into another well-cut tweed jacket, another immaculate shirt and silk tie.

Derek looked up as the door opened, and Kate and Grayson turned to look as well, and Emma suddenly remembered that she was wearing nothing but her robe and slippers. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the glorious fact that Derek was still awake.

“Emma?” Derek rose from his chair. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Emma crossed over to stand before him, unable to decide whether the sweater or Derek’s eyes were a deeper blue. “How’s Peter?”

“Sound asleep,” Derek assured her. “He was a bit delirious, but Dr. Singh says there’s no sign of any head injury, so we think it must be due to shock.”

“Delirious?” Emma asked.

“Babbling about the window changing color,” said Derek. “Not surprising, really. D’you know you were right? The young fool went out in that godawful storm just to make sure his precious window was intact.”

“Fool?” Emma echoed, a hint of heat in her voice.

“I say, Derek, old man,” murmured the duke.

“One moment, Grayson.” Derek looked down at Emma, perplexed. “Yes. Fool. What would you call a ten-year-old boy who risks his life to look at a bloody window?”

Emma’s foot began to tap. This wasn’t the conversation she’d had in mind. “I’d call him a very worried little boy,” she replied evenly.

“Worried?” Derek laughed. “I’d say he’s verging on delusional. Let’s face it, Emma. Those were hurricane-force winds out there, and Peter’s not exactly a tower of strength.”

“And I suppose you are?” Emma folded her arms.

“Er, Emma?” Kate’s soft voice held a touch of concern.

“In a minute, Kate.” Emma adjusted her glasses, then squared her shoulders. “Are you aware of the fact that that puny son of yours saved Mattie’s life tonight?”

“He’s lucky he didn’t get her killed,” Derek retorted.

“Lucky?” Emma’s voice cracked. “How about courageous and heroic and brave? How about magnificent? Frankly, I think Peter’s luck ran out when he got you for a father.”

“What do you mean by that?” Derek sputtered.

“I mean that, if you can look at what he did tonight and see nothing but foolishness and luck, then you don’t deserve your son. For your information, the window has changed.”

“What?” chorused Grayson and Kate.

“Now you’re sounding delusional,” scoffed Derek.

“If anyone’s delusional, it’s you,” Emma shot back. The discussion was spinning out of control, but she couldn’t turn back now. “You’re the one who thinks that everything at home is fine and dandy.”

“I don’t see how my home situation—”

“Do you have any idea what Peter’s gone through while you’ve been feeling sorry for yourself? When’s the last time he brought a friend home from school?” Emma demanded. “Why did he drop out of the Boy Scouts?”

Derek stepped back, self-righteous and thoroughly confused. “Peter’s very conscientious about his studies. Why, Mrs. Higgins says—”

“Mrs. Higgins?” Emma squeaked. “Have you smelled Mrs. Higgins’s breath lately? I imagine the only work she does is propping her feet on the coffee table when Peter’s vacuuming the carpet.”

“Hoovering the carpet? What on earth are you talking about? You can’t possibly know what Peter does when he’s at home.”

“Give me Mrs. Higgins’s job description and I’ll tell you exactly what he does. You ask Nell. Better yet, pay Mrs. Higgins a surprise visit, or just give her a call. I did, and it was very enlightening.”

Derek was aghast. “You’ve been spying on me?”

“I’ve been paying attention to your children, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for you.”

Derek drew himself up and looked down at Emma from a great height. “For someone who never wanted children of her own, you seem to be taking an inordinate amount of interest in mine.”

“Someone has to!” Emma snapped. “And if I were around, someone would. But there’s no danger of that. I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.” Emma fell back a step, remembering a moment too late that she hadn’t yet been asked.

Derek’s recall was unfortunately precise. “Who said anything about getting married? One kiss and you’ve already got us racing up the aisle? You must be desperate.”

“A woman would have to be desperate to even consider marrying you!” Emma roared.

“Emma, Derek, please.” Grayson’s voice was calm and conciliatory as he came to stand between them. “You’ve both been through a dreadful experience. I’m sure that everything will look quite different after a good night’s rest. Kate, old thing, why don’t you take Emma upstairs and—” He stopped short as Emma turned the full force of her wrath in his direction.

“If you call Kate ‘old thing’ one more time, I’m ... I’m going to smack you in the kisser. Why don’t you put that poor woman out of her misery?”

“Emma,” Kate muttered urgently, reaching over to touch Emma’s arm.

“You stay out of this,” Emma barked, pulling her arm out of reach. Glaring at Grayson, she went on, “Can’t you see that she’s in love with you? And she wants to get married, though I can’t for the life of me understand why. So let’s get down to business. Grayson, are you going to marry Kate or not?”

Grayson touched his tie nervously and lowered his eyes. “Forgive me, Kate. I’d hoped to make this announcement at a more suitable time and place, but since Emma’s being so ... so refreshingly direct—”

“Just answer the question,” Emma commanded.

“Yes, Grayson,” added Kate, rising to stand behind Emma, “just answer the question.”

“Of course I intend to marry you, Kate,” Grayson said, with as much dignity as he could muster. “I’ve intended to marry you all along. But I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Kate and Emma said together.

. “It wouldn’t have been proper,” Grayson replied, as though the answer were self-evident. “I didn’t have Grandmother’s ring.”

While Kate sank back onto the couch, open-mouthed, Emma gaped at the duke, too stunned for words. Next she did something she’d never done before and would probably never do again. She seized the duke by the knot of his silk tie and jerked him toward her, thundering, “Do you think Kate cares about jewelry?” Then she pushed the duke aside and stalked toward the door. “Men!” she roared, before gathering up the skirts of her blue robe and marching from the room, slamming the door behind her for good measure.

23

When Emma awoke, it was late afternoon, the sun was streaming through the balcony door, and Nell was sitting cross-legged on the end of her bed. She was watching Emma’s face intently, and when Emma’s eyes opened, she clambered across the bed to sit companionably near Emma’s pillows.

“Your bath is ready,” she said.

Emma blinked sleepily, not quite sure whether she was awake or only dreaming. The friendly little girl in the rumpled blue jeans and kelly-green sweater, who was toying with the laces on her scuffed sneakers and whose curls were as tousled as Derek’s, bore little resemblance to the picture-perfect and coolly self-possessed Lady Nell she’d come to know. Emma’s eyes widened as the dream child leaned over to pat her shoulder with a very real hand.