The Shy Duchess Part 18

Emily pressed her palms to her stomach. There was no hint of nausea now. "Yes," she said in surprise. "I feel wonderful now, quite energetic."

Amy smiled smugly. "It must be pregnancy, then. But do write to me when you're sure. And don't forget the tea party!"

"Oh, your Grace! I can't tell you how happy I am you could come to my little gathering today," said Lady Arnold, rushing forwards to greet Emily as she entered the drawing room. "It has not been the same in town since you and the duke left us."

Emily almost laughed as Lady Arnold kissed her cheeks in the French fashion of greeting. Surely Lady Arnold had not addressed more than a dozen words to her before that fateful scene at the ball! It hardly seemed to warrant such an effusive greeting now. Besides, she and Nicholas had only been gone for a short time. Surely the whole city had not changed.

And yet in a strange way it felt as if it had completely changed. Everyone she met looked at her differently, spoke to her differently. It felt strangely-good. But she didn't even want to consider what the consequences of that attention would be on her work at Mrs G.o.ddard's. She had planned on slipping away to the school today, while Nicholas was away on his business, but then the invitation arrived to tea and cards at Lady Arnold's house, not to mention the unexpected illness.

"Oh, you must go, Emily dear!" her mother said when Emily dropped by her house on the way to Lady Arnold's and found her ill with a cold. "I know it is shockingly last minute, but it's your first engagement as a married lady. It's never too early to begin to claim your rightful place in society, my dear. I only wish I could go with you, but my cold is keeping me at home, I fear."

And Nicholas urged her to go as well. "I'll be gone until dinner, Em," he said. "Go and have fun. You can tell me all the new gossip this evening."

"I doubt there will be anything to tell, not from Lady Arnold's," Emily answered wryly. "Unless you are interested in the newest colours of bonnet ribbons."

Nicholas laughed. "One never knows what might prove useful. What if I wanted to buy my pretty wife some ribbons? I would hate to buy the wrong colour." And he kissed her cheek as her mother watched them, beaming.

That was how she found herself in Lady Arnold's drawing room now, her hostess leading her to a seat near the windows, by the tea table, while the a.s.sembled guests watched her avidly, as if she was a curious creature in a menagerie-d.u.c.h.ess in captivity. At least she wore a new outfit from her trousseau, a stylish ensemble of a pale green muslin gown and darker green silk pelisse and feathered hat that gave her more confidence. She was learning this d.u.c.h.ess business better than she expected!

The ladies gathered on the brocade chairs around the table, the sunlight glowing on their silks and feathers and making them look like a collection of parrots, hastily made room for her.

"Married life does seem to agree with you, your Grace. You look positively radiant," Mrs Smythe-Hawkins said. Her sharp gaze drifted over Emily's abdomen, as if she suggested a little heir was already nestled there. And she might be quite right.

Emily remembered Nicholas's strange reaction when news of his niece's birth had arrived. That black cloud had quickly pa.s.sed that day, and he had not mentioned it again, instead staying light-hearted and teasing with her. But she could not quite forget. Was he disappointed she was not yet pregnant then? Or worse-was he glad of it?

Or was he shocked by the thought of a child with her?

Emily resisted the urge to press her arms over her stomach. "I am enjoying married life very much, thank you, Mrs Smythe-Hawkins," she said.

"I am sure you must be, your Grace, with such a handsome husband!" Amy's friend Lady Carter said with a giggle. "Every lady in London is quite envious of you."

Lady Arnold pa.s.sed Emily a delicate china cup. "You seem to have started a fashion for betrothals, too."

"Have I?" Emily said weakly.

"Yes. Miss Swanson and Lord Linley are to be married next month, and Sir Walter Chase's younger daughter is engaged to an Italian count. Imagine that!" Mrs Smythe-Hawkins said.

"They also say your friend Miss Jane Thornton wished to be engaged," Lady Arnold whispered. "But she was disappointed in her hopes, and her parents whisked her away from town."

"Miss Thornton?" Emily gasped in surprise. So that was why there was no answer to the note she had sent around to Jane's house when they returned to town. And then there were Jane's words of some "surprise" in her letter. But who could she have been engaged to? She had said nothing to Emily, unless Mr Jameson came to the point at last.

"They say she was quite in love with Mr George Rayburn," Lady Carter whispered. The ladies all leaned closer, all wide-eyed with scandalised delight. "And he had been seen with her at the park after-well, after you married, your Grace."

"But then her parents took her away, and Mr Rayburn has been seen all about town again."

Poor Jane. Emily stared down into her tea, stunned. Here she had thought they were such good friends, that Jane was so open and confiding, and yet she was in love with Mr Rayburn of all men and had said not a word. It was so very odd.

Unless these ladies were making far more of one sighting in the park than there was. That would certainly not be the first time such a thing had happened.

She would have to write to Jane herself, at the earliest opportunity. And maybe find her another, more suitable beau. She was in a position to help people now, as Nicholas had with Rob and Amy, and it felt good.

"I do not blame her parents at all," Lady Arnold said. "I would not wish my daughter betrothed to Mr Rayburn."

"Quite so," said Mrs Smythe-Hawkins. "My husband says he loses terribly at cards..." She lowered her voice. "He does not pay his considerable debts in any timely manner. He owes so many people, I am sure the day will soon come when he does not dare show his face in town."

"Miss Thornton has had a lucky escape, as has her family," Lady Carter said. "They need her to make a good, solid match, with all those daughters to look after. Mr Rayburn, let us face it, is not good ton. And there are the rumors of all those women..."

Emily had thought she could not be shocked by anything now, not after her hurried marriage and all she had discovered since then. But she was surprised by this news of Mr Rayburn's debts and impecunious state. He had courted her once, rather ardently, and she had had no idea of his true circ.u.mstance! Such gossip was only imparted to her now, when she was a married woman, long after it could have proved useful.

She and Jane had had fortunate escapes. But Emily did not understand why a man in need of money would court her in the first place. The Carrolls had no fortune now. Unless he was also not in possession of useful gossip about people's real financial state...

Her head spun in confusion. She suddenly wished she was back at Welbourne, with only Nicholas. Things made sense there, and she felt she belonged with him there, belonged to her new place in the world. Here, she was not so very sure.

"Do tell us where you found that green silk, your Grace," said Lady Arnold. "Such an elegant shade! I have been thinking we don't see enough green in the draper's shops of late, and I hear it is so a la mode in Paris."

"You must have had it straight from France!" one of the other ladies said. "You always did have such exquisite taste, your Grace. We can all learn so much from you in our ensembles, I'm sure."

"I have heard this shade is called vert a la d.u.c.h.esse," Lady Carter said. "So appropriate."

Emily almost laughed. Amy, her mother, even Nicholas had said that as a d.u.c.h.ess she would set the fashion, and she had not believed them in the least. But it seemed they were right. Everyone would show up in green now, all because her husband seemed to like her in green and bought her emeralds.

No, she understood nothing of this strange world. She was learning, though. She was finding her place as d.u.c.h.ess. She had to-she had her baby to think of now as well as herself, and she was determined to be the best mother she could be to him or her. It was of vital importance.

"Back to Manning House, your Grace?" the coachman asked as Emily stepped out of Lady Arnold's, her head whirling with gossip and the challenge of fending off nosy questions intended to turn her into gossip.

She bit her lip. Going back to cold, echoing Manning House alone, especially if Nicholas was still out, held no appeal. Nor did she really want to go to her parents' house and be in their way as they packed to leave town-and as her mother peppered her with questions about Lady Arnold. And she could not go to Mrs G.o.ddard's in such grand state. She didn't want to cause shameful gossip, as a d.u.c.h.ess visiting former ladies of the night would surely do! Not with the new baby to think of.

"No, Smith, to Gunter's first," she said. A raspberry ice would be just the thing to clear her head, and perhaps she could buy some pastries to have for the pudding at home. It was very hard to do without Signor Napoli's delicious creations after becoming so used to them at Welbourne, and it seemed the baby craved sweets. Or that was as good an excuse as any to indulge!

The scents of warm sugar and ripe, sweet fruit greeted her as she stepped into the confectioner's shop, comforting scents that wrapped around her rea.s.suringly. There were no long lines as there had been only weeks before, and few people seated at the little tables by the windows for tea and ices. London was indeed much quieter now, which was all for the best. Her d.u.c.h.ess debut had been relatively painless, and now she deserved a reward.

But as she ordered her ice and took it to a quiet seat in the corner, she could not quite forget the ladies' gossip about Mr Rayburn and Jane's hidden hopes of him. Emily had always thought herself somewhat observant; there was little else to do from behind potted palms and along walls at parties than watch and listen. Yet she had seen none of Mr Rayburn's financial difficulties, despite the scene in her mother's drawing room before her wedding, or of Jane's interest in him. Jane always seemed resigned to marrying her suitor Mr Jameson. It was all rather odd.

And it also made her wonder what else she had missed, what she did not know. She remembered the stunned look in Nicholas's eyes at Welbourne when he thought she might be pregnant. It was most worrisome.

The thought made the sweet-tart raspberry ice suddenly taste like ashes in her mouth. She had expected nothing of Nicholas when they married so suddenly, had expected nothing of herself except to be a good d.u.c.h.ess. Those golden days at Welbourne, so fleeting and sweet, seemed to have changed so much. Or they had changed things in her own heart, anyway, so completely. Surely nothing had changed for Nicholas. She was still the wife he had to take, and now she bore a child he didn't seem to want.

She carefully placed her spoon on the half-consumed dish. She loved her husband. He did not love her, not yet, though he did seem to care about her. If she could learn to be that good d.u.c.h.ess, surely she could learn to be a good wife, too? Nicholas could find deeper feelings for her-and forget Valentina. Or was that merely another silly dream?

The little bell over the door tinkled merrily as someone came into the shop, and Emily glanced up eagerly, hoping for some distraction from her own twisting, desperate thoughts. Her stomach sank sickeningly when she saw who the newcomer was.

George Rayburn, the man who was the new talk of London.

Emily slid to the back of her chair, hoping he would not see her there and she could slip away before she had to speak to him. She had no idea what to say to him, and her d.u.c.h.ess acting skills were not yet as sharp as she would like. But she was not so fortunate. He gazed around the room with a supremely confident air, a little smile on his handsome face. It was as if the rumours had never happened. His searching stare landed on her, and that smile widened.

"Why, if it is not the new d.u.c.h.ess!" he said, hurrying towards her. "Is the honeymoon at an end already? So sad."

"How do you do, Mr Rayburn," she said quietly, offering him her hand. She had removed her gloves to eat, and his grasp was too warm, too tight, to be strictly polite. He actually touched his lips to her knuckles rather than merely brushing the air above them, and she tugged her hand free.

"My husband has urgent business in London," she said. "We are here only for a few days."

"Just a few days? What a sad loss for those of us trapped in town. You've been missed here."

"Have I? It seems to me the world of London has gone on well enough while I've been away these few days."

"Then you have not been paying attention. Some of us have found these streets a desolate place without you." Without being invited, he sat down across from her, his knees pressed close to hers under the tiny table. He leaned towards her, so near she could smell the spiciness of his French cologne, feel the unpleasant heat of his body. She remembered that day before her wedding, when he trapped her just so, and shivered with a rush of cold fear.

She glanced out the window to where her carriage waited, along with her coachman and footmen. There were also the serving maids at the counter and the few other customers. She was not alone, Mr Rayburn surely dared not grab her in such a public place.

She bit her lip to keep from calling out and creating a scene, and leaned as far away from him as she could. Her back b.u.mped into the wall. "I am surprised to see you here, Mr Rayburn. I heard you had left town."

That confident smile twitched toward a frown. "Have your friends been prattling about me, then? Gossip does move fast, your Grace-like a poison."

Emily thought of Lady Arnold and her friends, their avid eyes as they told her all about Mr Rayburn's misfortunes and Jane's disappointments. "Not at all. It merely seems as if everyone has already departed for quieter environs. I would have thought you would do the same, you seem so-fashionable in all things."

"Well, like your ill.u.s.trious husband, I, too, have business to conclude before I take my leave."

"And will you then travel to Thornton Park, Mr Rayburn?"

His eyes narrowed. "Thornton Park? Certainly not. It is in Cheshire, yes? Dull place, and I hardly know that family anyway. I shall be for Brighton, or perhaps even for the Continent. They say Baden-Baden is quite the place to restore one's spirits."

"You seem healthy enough, Mr Rayburn."

"Ah, my dear d.u.c.h.ess, I fear my illness is of the spirit entirely. A broken heart is not so apparent, but is painful none the less."

Much like a broken purse? Or perhaps he was in truth pining for Jane. "Then surely Cheshire would be more the place for you, if that is your ailment."

"Only if you were there, your Grace." He leaned close again, and Emily slid back until she found herself quite mashed up against that wall. The warm, sugary smells, so comforting earlier, now felt nauseatingly oppressive.

"Did you not realise how many hearts were wounded the day you married?" he said, quiet and intense.

"That is utter nonsense," Emily said. "My husband's was the only offer I received all Season. If hearts were 'aching' they were well hidden."

"Emily!" He grabbed for her hand again, but she pulled it away, that cold fear trickling over her. "You know I was going to speak to your father, I merely had certain matters to resolve first, before I could be worthy of you and your family name. Surely I made my interest most evident, even to you. Remember when I came to your house before your wedding?"

She remembered that all too well. But she shook her head. "No, Mr Rayburn, I was aware of no such interest before that day, when you so importuned me in my own house. By then I was committed to my husband." She yanked on her gloves, refusing to look at him. It was time for something quite extreme. She was going to have to be rude. "And even if I had not been, we would never have suited, you and I, we are much too different in our manners and our ambitions. I am sure you agree with me now. You will soon find a much more compatible match, I am certain."

"As you did? A match with a fine t.i.tle?" he said harshly. "You will soon be sorry for such a tawdry bargain. You will wish you had listened to me, had given me a chance."

Emily had had quite enough from him. She did have a t.i.tle now, and surely one of the advantages of a t.i.tle was not having to listen to nonsense. She stood up, her chair sc.r.a.ping across the floor. "I must go now. Please say nothing further to me."

But he was not finished. He grabbed her arm, his bruising grip wrinkling her fine sleeve. "When you do rue your devil's bargain, d.u.c.h.ess, I will be here. Perhaps you would care for a visit to Baden-Baden as well? A time away from your oh-so-virtuous husband and his family of bedlamites. We could have a grand time together-I could show you things he never could. Things in the bedchamber..."

Emily stomped down hard on his foot, under cover of her hem. Her kid half-boot could not inflict much harm, but the surprise of her move drove him back from her. She pushed past him. "I will thank you never to speak to me again, Mr Rayburn, or to my friend Miss Thornton. Our acquaintance is quite at an end."

"I would not be so quick to dismiss me, your Grace," he said harshly. "You may have your lofty position now, but your husband's family is notoriously fickle. What will you do when you are alone in the world, and feel the chill of scorn and ridicule, as I have? When your husband will no longer protect you?"

Emily hurried out of the shop, not daring to breathe until she was safe in her carriage and rolling away from the square. Only then did she peer out the window, to find Mr Rayburn standing on the walkway watching her depart. His stare seemed to burn right through the thick gla.s.s.

She had not realised the depth of his feelings before, and they frightened her. He said his feelings were love of some sort, but she knew enough to see what they really were-a man denied the toy he wanted. Worse, that it had been s.n.a.t.c.hed away by a man of greater status, and far greater worth in every way. But the crude way he would suggest an affair in some far-off watering place...

Emily's hands were shaking. She twisted them together in her lap, fighting the urge to chew her thumbnail. She knew very well she should not feel that way. He was nothing, a denied suitor who could not hurt her. But still she could not push away her dark feelings.

What will you do when you are alone in the world?

The carriage drew to a halt outside Manning House, and for once that cold edifice looked positively welcoming, a haven. She hurried up the stone steps and into the foyer, leaving her gloves and hat with the butler, who informed her the duke was in the drawing room.

Emily walked slowly up the grand staircase, trying not to run, not to slam the doors behind her and lock them. But when she saw Nicholas there by the fireplace, his bright hair rumpled, she could not help herself. She dashed into his arms, holding on to him as tight as she could. Only when his embrace closed around her did she feel finally safe.

But for how long?

Nicholas laughed, and lifted her off her feet to spin her around until she laughed, too.

"What a grand welcome," he said. "I venture to guess it was a very good tea party-or a very horrid one, and even I look good in comparison."

"It was somewhere in between, I would say. Tea and gossip, the usual sort of thing. And I think you will always look better than that."

"High praise, my dear. And I dare say you are in need of some sherry, your cheeks look rather pale." He set her down on a chaise and poured out a generous measure of the amber liquid from the sideboard.

Emily usually didn't care for the sweetness of sherry, but today she needed its bracing warmth. It felt even better when Nicholas sat beside her and rested his arm lightly around her shoulders. Mr Rayburn was surely wrong-she was not alone in the cold world. Nicholas was her husband, and this was her home. Not George Rayburn, or beautiful ladies in hidden portraits, or even herself could change that.

"Did you hear anything interesting at the party?" he asked, idly toying with a loose curl at her temple, the pearl earring in her ear.

Emily could hardly remember anything at all when he did that. She laughed and playfully swatted his hand away. "Not at all. Broken engagements, elopements, card debts. How was your own business?"

"Equally dull. But we should be able to leave in a few days." He leaned over and kissed her deeply, his arms going around her waist to carry her down to the chaise. Emily giggled, her empty gla.s.s falling from her hand to roll away across the carpet. How delicious he smelled, her husband, of clean air and soap and lemony cologne, how strong and warm he felt in her arms. She wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him even closer to her.

"Nicholas..." she said, and gasped as he nibbled at her earlobe. "My parents are coming for dinner later."

"Mmm, much later, I hope," he muttered against her neck. "There's plenty of time until then. I missed you today."

Plenty of time indeed. He kissed her again, his tongue sliding over hers, and Emily forgot everything but the two of them and their own precious, fragile world.

Chapter Twenty.

"Oh, Miss Carroll-that is, your Grace! Mrs G.o.ddard asks if you can come to the school as soon as may be."

Emily glanced up from the menus she was perusing to see Sally in the doorway of her little sitting room. The butler hovered there, too, a disapproving look on his face that such a caller had come dashing in so improperly at Manning House.

But Emily felt a little thrill of happiness to see her. It had been days since they returned to London, and she had only been able to make one short visit to the school amid all her new duties. She missed it so much.