novelxo A Bluestocking for the Duke: Chapter 8
“Thank you for having our family. We had a lovely time,” Emma curtsied. She wasn’t entirely sure if she would accurately describe it as a lovely time. It was rather confusing, incredibly aggravating, and maybe only a little enjoyable.
“Miss Hale, the pleasure was all mine,” Colin said, bowing and pressing a dramatic kiss to her wrist. With the entire family watching, it was the last time for the two of them to offer as much of a show as possible before the nuptials. With a flick of her wrist, Emma opened her fan and pretended to cool off before him.
Colin helped Emma down the outside stairs that led to the drive. The families engaged in their goodbyes, leaving the two of them a moment of solitude. “The fan was a becoming touch,” he said.
She shrugged. “We have gotten quite good at this.” He smiled, and it seemed genuine. “I suppose the next time we will continue our show will be at the altar,” Emma said.
“Mm.” He nodded. There was a brief whine, and the two of them looked down. Lemon Drop was at Colin’s feet. He leaned down and picked the dog up. “He would make a proper officiant, do you agree?”
From Colin’s arms, Lemon Drop once again stared at Emma, somehow protective and vacant simultaneously. Emma swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. “I am not sure he’d have much to say.”
“On the contrary. I think he is the only Radford to truly attest to how good of actors we are.”
“Are you sure? He hasn’t exactly made his mind up about me,” Emma replied, eyes glued on the dog who was looking straight through her. After a long moment of statue-like stillness, he lifted his leg and scratched at the frilly yellow collar around his neck.
“Oh, that?” he asked, craning his head around to see Lemon Drop’s face. “He’s um…obviously very relaxed by the look of you.”
“I think he’s trying to get a gauge on me,” she argued.
“Maybe he’s picked up more from me than I realized.” Colin eyed Emma with hesitance before he pressed a kiss to the dog’s head. Emma laughed, snorting once again. “You have the most obnoxious laugh in all of London,” he said, setting Lemon Drop back on the ground.
“Yes, and you’re about to spend the rest of your life with it.”
He tried his best to hide an amused smile, but it was no use. “I suppose I have my own share of bad habits.”
“Such as…staying up too late? Dancing poorly? Feeding the dog table scraps?”
He leaned over, just close enough to whisper. “And yet, these are all things you’ve been charmed by.”
She giggled. “Likewise, Your Grace. Say what you will, but you rather like my laugh.”
“I am much too morose to be admitting to such a thing,” he said as he guided her down the path to her carriage. “I will see you soon.”
Emma nodded. She accepted his hand, and he helped her up into the carriage. She took a seat and looked back out at him. “Goodbye, Emma.”
The mention of her name had sent flutters through her chest. She wasn’t entirely sure if she had formed an attachment to him, but what she did know was that if they were all alone in this world, she would have thrown herself out of the carriage, arms wrapped around his neck, and kissed him until all the want inside of her was satisfied. He gave his goodbyes to her family, helping each one carefully into the carriage. Even poor Lucy couldn’t help but swoon a bit.
“What a pleasant time!” Emma’s mother announced. She looked out the window at the Duke as he walked back up to his house, Lemon Drop trotting at his feet. “What a pleasant man, although a bit too attached to that hound, I will say.”
“Oh, Mama! Can you believe that Emma’s found true love?”
Priscilla pursed her lips. “Dear, you really need to be more realistic about the nature of infatuation. These things do not always last forever. Is that not right, Emma?”
Emma leaned over her mother and looked back at Colin before turning to see Harriet’s hopeful eyes. “Mama, perhaps a week ago, I might be inclined to agree with you, but sometimes the things we feel are wild, illogical, and senseless. And yet we feel them all the same.” Harriet smiled, covering a toothy smile with her hand at the words of her older sister.
The baron sighed. “Lady Wilkes, the ways of the world are changing, it seems. How we fell in love is not the same thing we can expect for our daughters.”
“Indeed. The winds that carry us change daily,” Emma agreed. It was starting to feel strange that she had told such a lie to the people she loved the most. The truth was that Emma and Colin might very well be happy enough, but love certainly wasn’t easy to find, nor did it always last forever. She would be lucky if she were to fall in love with Colin, but right now, she could settle for what things they did have in common.
“They have been in there for so long!” Harriet said, trying her best to reposition herself on the couch so that she could see down the hall better.
“Give them a moment,” Lucy mumbled into her cross stitch. “Lord Northwick has some unforgivably sappy things to say, I am positive. Oh Lord Wilkes, how I long for your daughter. I have waited night and day breathlessly for—”
“Lucy, you are such a—”
Lucy made her voice even more comical, holding out her hand like she was channeling a Shakespearean actor. “I have longed for her! How my heart does not beat when we are apart. Without her, I might…well, I might just…oh God, I may simply perish!”
“Lucy, you egg-headed, troll-faced, cross-eyed, toad-breathed twit!”
The next thing Emma knew, she was burying her face in her palm, trying to avoid seeing her sisters fight like children. She sighed. Lord Northwick had been speaking to their father for a while, but everyone knew what that meant. He had been keen on Harriet for several years. Once he heard about Emma’s match, she knew he’d be at the estate by the time they returned.
Emma had certainly missed her home. She had grown up here, and it always felt comfortable. With Colin, she’d experienced a lot of growing pains that were only punctuated by the unfamiliarity of the location. Even now, she was still steeping in every little word he said and all the fleeting touches he offered her. Her gaze drew across the pianoforte, where atop the instrument, a giant bouquet of flowers created a miniature jungle. When he said he would send her flowers, he was somehow still underselling himself. She hadn’t expected such a grand display.
Will you two start acting your age?” Emma asked sharply, startling her quarreling sisters. They looked at her. Lucy sighed heavily and leaned back on the couch.
“You are such a troubling, egg-headed troll, Lucy!” Harriet crossed her arms in annoyance.
Their mother snorted beside Emma, finally waking up from her slumber on the couch. Lord Northwick really had been speaking with the baron for that long. “Oh dear, congratulations Harriet, I am so—”
“Mama,” Emma put her hand on her mother’s shoulder. “There is no news yet. Rest.”
Typically, Emma wouldn’t coax her mother back to sleep. However, Priscilla was incredibly impatient. Emma had too much on her mind to listen to her complain about the duration of the viscount’s conversation with their father. That, and no one in the room was that anxious about the outcome. Everyone knew what was happening.
Emma stared at the study door, closed shut, the dark wood as heavy and impenetrable as a castle wall. Her fate seemed as good as sealed. If an engagement wasn’t enough to tie her down, the fact that Harriet and Lord Northwick had come this far was certainly the final stone atop her grave. There was no crawling up from this one.
“I am so excited about your wedding,” Harriet said.
Emma offered a tight-lipped smile. “As am I.”
“Are you nervous?” Lucy asked. “Marrying a duke is every insipid girl’s dream.”
Emma’s head drew back. “Insipid?”
“Not—” Lucy held up her palm. “Not you, of course. Not you.”
“One day, you will find a kindly gentleman to sweep you off your feet, and you will eat every word you have ever said.” Emma crossed her arms. “And, for your illumination, my dearest Lucy, I am very excited about my nuptials.”
Emma wasn’t excited, per se, but she was looking forward to time spent with Colin again. She had grown to at least enjoy some of their conversations. When he wasn’t being terse, he could be funny and charming. A realistic side of her always worried that it was all just part of the act. When things settled down and they were married, would he still treat her the way he treated her now?
Her gaze floated back to the flowers. They were much grander than expected. With their arrival, they had certainly commanded everyone’s eyes. “I still cannot believe the size of this arrangement,” she said.
“Do you think it means something?” Harriet asked. “You know Lord Northwick does this all the time, and it is so romantic. He will give me flowers that mean things.”
“I doubt the Duke put that much thought into it,” Emma said. Everyone else thought of him as the most romantic man to ever walk the earth, but Emma was well aware that he was anything but.
“On the contrary,” Harriet said. “He’s very romantic.”
Emma glanced at the bouquet. “So, what do red tulips mean?”
“Love, of course,” Harriet explained. “But it is also a request. It is a way of asking someone to entrust their heart with you.” Emma blushed. Had he really put that much thought into it? The idea alone made Emma feel butterflies. Emma was a realist, yes, but the idea that maybe the Duke had even the smallest of romantic notions for her made her heart rate quicken.
“And…” Emma stood up and looked at the red and pink bouquet. It was beautiful, and yet all so sickly sweet. Maybe he had poured it all on a bit heavily. But she could, for just a moment, hope that he did simply mean to ask her to trust him. That was a comforting idea. She looked at the other flowers. “Snapdragons?”
Harriet frowned. “Is that what those are?” she asked. “He must not have put that much thought into it, then.”
“What?”
Harriet smiled sheepishly. “They represent deception.”
“Ah,” Emma said, heart dropping back toward reality. Of course.
Harriet eyed the bouquet, tilting her head. “That is a troublesome thought.”
Emma faked a hearty laugh. Colin was nothing, if not incredibly backhanded. He would most certainly do something like that. At the risk of her sister questioning their relationship, it did seem to be a rather ludicrous move. Men really were that foolish. “That might be alarming,” Emma began her lie. “If I had not explained to him my love for snapdragons. I mean, the name alone is…”
“Oh!” Harriet looked relieved. “That is romantic, then. He’s so thoughtful. I believe most men should strive to be that romantic.”
Lucy faked a gag. “I should hope not, or I will find myself a spinster.”
“Lucy, will you shut your mouth?” Harriet snapped.
The youngest sister responded with a rude gesture that went unnoticed by their sleeping mother. Emma sighed. Sometimes it felt like the two of them were a lost cause.
“His Grace is all I could have hoped for in my betrothed,” Emma nodded. She put the tip of her nose against one of the pink snapdragons, the petals cold against her skin. She breathed in the smell of springtime. “How lucky can I be to be with someone who thinks so deeply of me?”
“I am sure he is thinking of you as we speak.” Harriet pressed a hand to her heart. That hurt. The knowledge that he was likely thinking about anything, but made her feel rotten. It wasn’t particularly him, but the idea that someone could think of her that often. She wanted to be someone’s morning and someone’s night. Harriet must have known what that felt like, but for Emma, the feeling was lost on her. She might never know.
The door of the study opened, and Lord Northwick stepped out, followed by the baron. The two entered the drawing room. Harriet sat up as straight as a pin.
Lord Northwick was younger than most marrying nobles. At twenty-three, he seemed assured of what he wanted his life to look like. His hair was styled perfectly, short and well-groomed. He had a rather large nose, but it didn’t detract from his charms; rather it made him unique enough to make a lasting impression. His eyes were blue, effortlessly soaking up all the light in the room. He looked at Lucy and bowed. “May I have a moment with your sister?”
Lucy rolled her eyes slightly, not enough to get herself into trouble but enough to make her displeasure clear. She got up off the couch and moved to sit on the piano bench, putting all her energy into her cross stitch.
Lord Northwick sat beside Harriet, nervously repositioning himself on the couch. “Miss Harriet Hale, I have received permission from your father, and I do not wish to waste any more time in asking if you will allow me to court you.”
Harriet began nodding her head furiously before he even finished his sentence. “Yes, of course.”
“Wonderful.” He offered her a tight smile that showed just how nervous he was. Everyone knew Harriet would say yes, but the fact that this was finally happening after such a long wait had everyone on the edge of their seats. Emma’s eyes were just a little glassy after seeing how he looked at her. Harriet seemed like the only person he could ever focus on when she was near.
Tears dotted Emma’s waterline. It was strange that she’d never really felt jealousy like that for her sister before. Emma had made a point of marrying for duty, but it wasn’t until now that she truly felt a pang in her chest. This little tinge of mourning reminded her that she would never have her own love story, nor would she ever be able to talk about it to anyone. As far as the world believed, Emma was in love with her betrothed.
And, as far as everyone knew, the redness in Emma’s eyes was a product of seeing her sister this deliriously happy. “Congratulations,” Emma choked out. “I will excuse myself. I must contain my joy.”
Harriet laughed, her excitement leveling with Lord Northwick’s. Emma headed out of the drawing room and to the staircase.
“Emma,” her father called out. He stood at the base of the steps, looking up at her, with his brows upturned and his hand tentatively reaching out to her. “Are you well, dear?”
She smiled despite the tears streaking her cheeks. She nodded. “Of course, Papa.” She stepped down until she was two steps above her father. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against his balding head.
“Dear.” He stopped her. “You can speak to me anytime. I never tell you enough with words, but I love you.” He gave her one last apprehensive look before Emma hiked up her skirts and hurried up the stairs.
“I love you too, Papa!” she called out, the tears dripping off her chin.
“Writing to your one true love, are you?” Adam asked, leaning against the door frame. His eyes glinted, telling him he was on the prowl for chaos.
Colin sighed. “I am writing to the Baron of Wilkes.” Colin looked down at the half-written letter.
“Oh.” He raised his brow. “You know, you and the baron would make a rather attractive couple. I can see it now.”
“I think Miss Hale might have objections,” Colin muttered.
“Best not to test it then.” Adam crossed his arms and exaggerated a frown. He walked into the room, sliding on the hardwood floor in his socks. He tumbled onto the couch on the other end of the drawing room while Colin continued writing at the stationary desk.
“I am letting the family know I intend to stay in London for a week and a half. Seems I’ve stumbled across a business opportunity,” he said.
Adam stretched out, yawning like a bear awoken from a peaceful hibernation. “And what is that, dear brother?”
“You must recall the Marquess of Harton? I went to Oxford with him.”
“How could I forget?” Adam asked. “He, in no uncertain terms, told me to stay far away from his sister that day at the racetrack, and really, fair enough.”
“Yes, you made an imbecile of yourself.” Colin rolled his eyes. Luckily the Marquess hadn’t held it against Colin that his brother was a rake. “He has a share in a merchant operation. Very straightforward. They are taking goods back and forth between England and India. The silks and spices are selling here for a high price.”
“That sounds promising.”
“It is,” Colin said. “They are looking to add a vessel into the trade but do not have the capital. That is where I come in.”
“Hm.” Adam yawned again. “Maybe they can name it after you. The S.S. Misanthropic?”
Colin frowned. “Can you be serious for just a moment?”
“About what? You are selling a little saffron. It isn’t the most complicated thing, you know.”
Colin’s nose twitched. “Why not table such debates on intelligence and skill until you finally learn to breathe with your mouth closed?” Colin continued his letter while Adam howled with laughter on the couch before him. Adam had some redeeming qualities. For one, he had become great at laughing at himself.
The two brothers sat in the drawing room in silence while Colin finished the letter, signing it with a reserved scribble of a signature.
“How are things between you and your betrothed?”
Colin turned around, looking back at his brother. He waited, expecting some sort of rub to follow it, but nothing ever did. Adam and he didn’t usually have serious conversations. “We are very happy.”
“You do not have to lie to me,” Adam said.
Colin gingerly tucked the letter into the envelope, fingers languid at his brother’s insistence. “I am not.”
“I spoke to Miss Hale. She all but confirmed that there is some ruse going on.”
Coin’s chest felt weighted. “What did she say?”
“I told her you’re not usually so delightful. After some back and forth, she admitted the ruse.” Adam exhaled and contorted his face. “Seems too…complicated.”
Colin took a deep breath and stood up from the writing desk. “She asked me to behave in such a way because of her family.” He made his way over to the couch and sat opposite his brother. With a crane of his neck, he looked up at the ceiling. “I—I do not know how she feels. I may only speak for myself.”
“You cannot possibly tell me you are in love. I would not believe it.”
Colin shook his head. “No, not love. Just…” He paused. “She vexes me sometimes, and yet…I feel some affection.”
“Oh, of course. Friends,” Adam pointed out.
Colin looked back at his brother. Adam was mindlessly thumbing one of the buttons on his waistcoat. “What?”
Adam shrugged. “There is a way that I look at a woman I desire and a way that I look at a friend, and those, Colin, are two shadows that will never cross.” He held his hands up towards the ceiling to better punctuate his point. “You would be a fool to believe I cannot recognize a look I have given so often before.”
“Vacant, mouth-dribbling mindlessness?”
“For once, I am serious,” Adam said, still chuckling at the insult. “You feel something for her, or you would not look at her the way you do. Perhaps it is just desire, but I think you are a little more attached than that, hm?
Colin grimaced. It wasn’t that cut and dry. He did desire Emma, and she him; however, that was not love. What they shared in glances was something he was not entirely convinced that she understood. Lust alone was not a good foundation for a marriage. They had found a mutual common ground. There was often tension between them. Nothing was perfect, but friendship could be enough to get them through.
As complicated as it already was, there was a part of Colin that hadn’t stopped thinking about everything. Maybe fantasies of passion could all be explained away by him being a man, however, he thought of the simple things too. He thought of lying beside her and speaking until the sun came up and bathed them in golden light. He imagined laughing at the table together, sharing books, and coming home to her after a day of work had exhausted him.
Colin leaned his head back, sighing and staring back at the ceiling. “I am not sure what plagues me. Maybe a better night’s sleep might bring me some clarity.”
“Hopefully,” Adam said. “Perhaps it is best to figure things out before you arrive in London. Could make things complicated, which is fine, but I would like to be there to watch you flounder.”
Colin wasn’t naïve. He knew it would take more time before he understood where he and Emma stood. As confusing as it might be, some time spent with Emma before the wedding might clear up everything that had occurred between the two the week prior.