Elliot George Ashbrook, the ninth Duke of Hartford was about to marry or make an announcement of some sorts that he was ready to settle down. All the marriage-minded mammas of the season would be deliriously overjoyed, and then the hunt for who would secure such a worthy and estimable match would commence with genteel vigor. Society would be atwitter for months, and all the newspapers would write about this unprecedented move by the duke. For so long society had declared him a scoundrel, a rake of the first order.
Miss Emma Amelia Fitzgerald pressed a fist to her chest as if that would stop the sudden ache that settled heavily in her heart. Elliot was to find a bride. The hand that had been poised to knock on the door to the study lowered. She had to gather her composure before facing her brother and his guest. It would not do for the duke to see the sheen of tears in her eyes or the pain that must be evident on a face that many had declared to be expressive. After all, it had been she who had rejected his offers of marriage several years ago. Although she did not regret her decision and despite her current situation a small part of her dearly wished he would renew his addresses. He had not asked her again, and her pride, doubts, and fear had prevented her from approaching him. Years had passed, eight to be exact. And she had realized he must have accepted she was impaired and unmarriageable.
“I did not realize you’d hoped to settle down,” her brother, Anthony Fitzgerald, said. “I thought you cherished your liberty greatly.”
“I’ve decided it’s time,” Elliot drawled. “I am nine and twenty and not getting any younger. I’ll signal my intention by attending Lady Wiles’ ball in two weeks’ time.”
Elliot hadn’t visited Bellview Manor in almost six months. The duke’s voice was richer and deeper, more confident than she remembered.
A rough sound of disbelief issued from her bother. “You are entirely serious. I cannot credit it. You have been a right rogue these last seasons. The polite world will be shocked and delighted. Do you have someone in mind?”
There was a contemplative pause.
“Perhaps Lady Andrea Sutton. She appears to be the most accomplished debutante of this season. I had the pleasure to dance with her last season and found her to be quite good-natured and intelligent.”
“Not to mention stunningly beautiful and perfect.”
Perfect. Everything Emma was not after the terrible carriage accident. The one her brother still blamed himself for because it had limited her prospects for marriage and a future. And because it had taken the man she loved…still loved if she was honest, the duke himself. Except when she had fallen hopelessly in love with him, he hadn’t been a duke. They had been friends, neighbors, and everything then had seemed so simple, her place in the world defined and understood. Her expectations of marrying Elliot then and starting a family had been real and attainable, but in an instant, it had all been ripped away to be replaced by broken limbs and a hopeless heart. Her only solace was a change of scene, which she would achieve by travelling to Boston.
“Perfection is not a criterion of mine, but it does not hurt that she presents a very pretty picture.”
There was a slight easing in her heart at that declaration.
Anthony said something she could not decipher, and she was so tempted to press her ear to the wooden panel. It was unforgivably rude to eavesdrop, but she consoled her conscience by recalling her need to gather composure before facing her brother and the duke. It pained her to admit even for a second she wanted to retreat to the music room and resume playing the pianoforte. But she had never been a coward, and she would not start on this auspicious visit.
“Will I see you next week at Lady Waverly’s house party?” Elliot asked.
Emma stiffened. That scandalous house party had been on the lips of many in society for weeks. The countess’s yearly house party and her masquerade ball were notorious and only the rogues, the scoundrels, and the most scandalous women of the season attended. Though from what Emma had gathered from the scandal sheets over the years, genteel ladies had donned masks and wigs to attend and had fallen to ruin.
“You know you won’t find a wife there.”
There was a low chuckle of masculine amusement. “That will be for pleasure,” the duke drawled. “The countess’s parties are always so amusing. I plan to indulge with a willing lady or two before I make my intentions to find a bride this season known.”
A willing lady or two? The duke was indeed the worst sort of scoundrel. And her older brother’s best friend. And the man she still loved with her entire soul.
“Why bother? You left the last masquerade without a lady on your arm, and the previous two before that if I recall correctly.”
An annoyed grunt came from the duke. “There should be enough daring beauties to satisfy my discriminating tastes there this year.”
The sound of glasses clinking echoed.
“How is Emma?”
Her heart shivered at the mention of her name.
“Still refusing to marry and insisting on taking an extended trip to America. I cannot imagine why she would want to visit tha
t wild place.”
The silence that lingered prompted her to lift her fist to knock on the door once more, but instead, she ran her hand over her light-blue, muslin, day dress smoothing non-existing wrinkles. She then took a deep breath and closed her eyes running a quick mental check over herself. Emma patted her stunning, bright red hair ensuring the artful chignon her maid had arranged had no loose wisps. She was in a presentable state to face him. She raised her hand to knock once again and paused as the duke’s voice filtered through the door once more.
“You do not wish for her to leave?”
Was it her fanciful imagination that Elliot’s voice sounded out of sorts?
“No, we all want to see her content in her own home with a husband and children. Father and I have discussed it. He will forbid her travelling.”
Outrage snapped through Emma. Why did papa insist on ruling her life even though she was of age? It was not as if she were travelling to people who she knew nothing about. Her older sister, Elizabeth, had married an American business magnate and was blissfully settled in Boston. She had invited Emma over to meet their society, confident she would find some measure of happiness there. Though Emma doubted any such happiness would exist for her, she was thrilled with the notion of leaving England’s shores for an extended period. Her family had not been happy to receive her news.