The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga) (5 page)

CHAPTER
SIX

Emma’s heart
pounded with excitement as she selected and packed many of her worldly
belongings in her trunk. The things she didn’t take she’d give to her friends
here, and she would donate the rest to the town’s Female Charitable Society.
Emma had been told her other belongings from various estates were in storage
until the time she was located permanently somewhere.

So she was
finally sailing for England. She would never let the handsome, domineering duke
know how excited she actually was to be traveling to his homeland with him.
Excited as she was, she still had reservations about leaving her beloved
America behind. And she would not make this departure easy on him.

Something
nagged at her that things were not as they appeared. No matter the questions
she’d asked and the answers she received… There was a shadow of secrecy
surrounding the death of her dear papa. Somehow Emma would find out exactly
what the duke was hiding from her regarding his death.

Before packing,
Emma had handed out several items of clothing to Amy. They included her
favorite plum riding habit that she had outgrown. Amy had said how much she
liked it. Even so, Emma hoped the duke allowed the females of his family to
mount a horse. Since coming to school, she had missed riding and the sense of
freedom and exhilaration that came from it. Not to mention her favorite mare,
Petunia, who had passed away last year from colic.

And this year,
Emma had grown considerably. Several of her day dresses needed a small bit of
altering, so Emma let down the hem and loosened the seams at the bodice before
she packed those. Though she hadn’t felt it happening, her figure had changed
in the past year.

In the rush to
accomplish all, she flew around her bedroom in a whirlwind of energy that
spiked her pulse and sent her heart banging against her ribs. The duke would
arrive within the hour, and she needed to calm herself. Emma would rather cut
her hair short than admit to him the thrill and romantic anticipation drumming
inside her at the thought of traveling with him to England—Jane Austen’s
England.

Would she have
the chance to meet Miss Austen? To profess her utter devotion to her for making
the years at Miss Beauregard’s Finishing School less lonely and more interesting?
To tell her that to make it tolerable, Emma had put herself in the stories and
vicariously lived the lives of the heroines?

Then there was
Mr. Darcy from
Pride and Prejudice
. Emma wrapped her arms around her
waist and spun around. Could any lady read that book without falling hopelessly
and completely in love with him? She did not think so. She imagined that even
old ladies past their prime dreamed about him. And if they did not, then it was
surely their loss.

Would she meet
her Mr. Darcy in England? She sighed loudly, closed her eyes, and prayed she
would. Falling in love, she imagined, would be wondrously exciting and
passionately satisfying. How could it be otherwise in her romantic mind? Oh,
dear, Emma would have to work hard to remind herself she did not want to marry.
Or, at least, keep up that pretense while in the duke’s company.

“Oh, my,” she
sighed as she tied her buttercup bonnet on her head. It matched the only day
dress that fit her properly. Next, she donned her royal blue pelisse and kid
gloves. She took one last look around her bedroom and gave a silent farewell to
her girlhood, ignoring the slight ache in her chest. Yes, she would miss some
of her time here and some of the people, but the adventure of her life, as an
adult woman, lay ahead, and she could not wait to step into it.

Confident her
trunk was packed and ready to be transported to the ship, she walked in the
direction of Amy’s room, hoping Amy’s roommates were elsewhere so their goodbye
could take place in private. She’d already said goodbye to Penelope last
evening, and that was hard enough. Leaving Amy would be torturous.

“Amy, may I
come in?” Emma waited until she heard Amy’s soft voice answer. The moment Amy
opened the door she wrapped her arms around Emma’s waist and held on tight.

“Please don’t
leave me,” Amy whispered.

“I wish I
didn’t have to. But we all grow up and have to move on.” Emma rubbed Amy’s
back. “Please do not cry.” But really, how could she expect Amy not to cry when
she herself had tears running down her cheeks? “I have something for you.” Emma
handed Amy a small piece of parchment. “This is the duke’s address in London.
Write me if you ever need anything. And I promise to help. And here’s something
for you now.” Emma handed her a purse full of coin. Amy protested but Emma
insisted. “There’s a note within in case you get in trouble for having it and
another note to my banker who will help you invest this.”

“How can I ever
thank you, dear friend?”

Emma pulled out
of Amy’s arms. “There is no need. You deserve it. I will write you as soon as
the ship lands. I love you.”

With a heavy
heart, Emma walked slowly down the stairs to await the duke in the receiving
room.

With both
sadness and excitement filling her mind, her manners escaped her and she rushed
into the salon, nearly knocking over the duke in her exuberance. His eyes
widened in shock, yet he reached out with his long arms and caught her around
the waist and steadied her. Thank goodness. It would not do to start off their
travels sprawled willy-nilly on the floor.

Emma’s cheeks
flushed with the image of the two of them intimately entwined on the salon
floor. She thrust the thought aside and tried to compose herself. The touch of
his hands tingled on her skin and seemed to burn through her clothing, sending
flames she did not understand licking her body.

“Your Grace,”
she squeaked out as she looked up into his wide, clear blue eyes. He raised an
eyebrow but said nothing.

“Excuse me,”
Emma said, stepping back and curtsying, hoping he didn’t hear the quiver in her
voice or notice her body trembling. “Please accept my sincere apology for my
unladylike behavior. I had not expected anyone to be here.”

“Were you not
expecting me?” the duke asked with a scowl.

“Oh, yes, but
not quite so soon.” After she blurted out her apology she breathed deeply to
settle her nerves. “I trust you’ve had a pleasant and productive visit here in
America?”

With liquid
grace the duke bowed formally, sending her pulse racing. Would she ever feel
comfortable in his presence?

“Yes, Miss
Hamilton, my extended stay in America proved successful and interesting. I
trust you have been well? And judging by your attire, do I understand you are
no longer in mourning for your father?”

“Yes. I know I
should be in half-mourning, but I believe wholeheartedly Papa would want me to
begin my new life in England out of mourning.” Tears threatened to rain down
from her eyes at the thought of her dear departed papa. She fought them back.
It would not do to cry in front of the duke like some immature schoolgirl.

The duke
strolled forward to the large windows overlooking a park across the lane. “Our
ship sails with the late afternoon tide. I trust you are ready to go?”

“Yes, Your
Grace.”

The duke looked
away from the window. His eyes narrowed while he regarded her for several
moments. “Also, there is the matter of your two guards. I compensated them well
and gave them letters of recommendation as you will not require their services
in England.”

“That was kind
of you, Your Grace.” Yet she remembered her abduction and why her father had
assigned them. That was a lifetime away. She turned back to the duke.

While he
continued to speak Emma wondered how one man could grow more handsome in a
year’s time. The duke most certainly had. His clothing was expensive and
tasteful, but not the type of clothing she expected a peer of the realm to
wear. His understated clothing suited him and highlighted his sandy hair to
perfection.

“Please, since
I am your guardian, I prefer you address me as Wentworth when we are in
private.”

“Yes,
Wentworth.” It rolled off her tongue like dewdrops on rose petals.
Wentworth.
It was a fine name for a more than fine gentleman.

“Splendid.” He
waved one arm around the room. “If you’re ready, I will have the coachmen
attend to your trunk.”

Sometime later,
seated in the rolling carriage, Emma watched as the bustling waterfront came
into view. Butterflies waltzed inside her stomach in anticipation of this next
phase of her life. Yet her heart broke at the thought of leaving home.

Everything
about life here reminded her of her papa. And she was afraid that leaving it
all behind and settling in another country was also leading her away from his
memory. Oh, Emma knew she was being melancholy. She could never forget her
papa, but still it worried her that she might.

The duke,
lounging next to Emma, appeared to all the word as if nothing weighed on his
mind. Would he be kind to her once they arrived at his estate? Many unanswered
questions floated around inside her head, each one wanting to be answered. She
rubbed her index fingers against her temples, trying to quell the sudden onset
of a migraine. It would not do to be confined to her cabin the first day at sea.
She did not want the duke to think she had a weak constitution. Emma took pride
in her good health.

As the carriage
rounded a bend the
Georgina
rose majestically out of the water. Emma
couldn’t take her eyes off the ship that would be her home for weeks. Never, in
all her eighteen years, had she traveled on a luxury ship.

Her papa’s
ships were made for whaling. There was nothing luxurious about them. Memories
of her time on his ships brought tears to her eyes and a lump in her throat.
Would she ever stop missing him?

Emma wiped away
her tears and focused, once again, on the ship in front of her. Three masts
rose up from the deck of the
Georgina.
Once it was in full sail, this
ship would spirit them across the vast Atlantic in no time.

As they
approached the dock, the sight of it close up took her breath away. The touch
of Wentworth’s hand on hers as he helped her down from the carriage did not
help. Sparks ignited and smoldered, sending tingles of awareness up her arm.
Certainly he would be shocked by her reaction to him, if he were to find out.
It would not do to dwell on these feelings. He was her guardian and nothing
more. He probably looked upon her as just another irritating female he needed
to marry off, or as an unwanted family member who would drain his coffers.

Just as Emma
lightly placed her gloved hand on his proffered arm, she heard him say, with a
hint of humor, “Well, I’ll be… If it isn’t my long-lost friend, Norwich.”

Wentworth
released Emma, and the two men clasped hands, “Now don’t you look like an
American frontiersman. Emma, you remember my friend Norwich? He disappeared
shortly after we arrived in New Bedford, saying he needed to see all America
had to offer.”

Myles, his face
darkly tanned with little crinkled lines around the eyes, grinned at Wentworth
while he tipped his fedora to Emma. “Are you jealous because I traveled this
wild land?” He wiggled his brows up and down. “Not to mention New Orleans and
the Creole ladies with their delightful charms and elegant manners. Ahh, the
joys of being young and handsome in such a fruitful new world.”

Wentworth burst
out laughing, shaking Emma’s hand off his arm. “You are so conceited and full
of yourself. But still, I would like to hear of your travels when we are in
private and can talk freely.”

Emma wanted to
hear Myles’s stories, too. But when she wasn’t invited, a bit of the sparkle
wore off the day.

***

Myles’s eyes
wandered freely up and down Emma’s body, a half-smile quirking his mouth. The
intensity in his friend’s dark green eyes as they scanned his ward caused
Thomas to clench his hands into fists. Out of the blue, he wanted to beat his
old friend to a pulp. Instead, he maintained a smile for the sake of
appearances.

“Miss
Hamilton.” Myles bowed with noble grace. “You look lovelier than ever.” He
reached out, took her gloved hand, and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “I
trust this past year has been good to you?”

Emma seemed to
take her time retrieving her hand from Myles’s grip, and then she curtsied oh
so gracefully. Thomas scowled. Could she make it any plainer she found Myles to
her liking?

“This past year
was wonderful, such as it was, though I missed my papa terribly.” She eyed
Thomas with her pale blue eyes, then looked at Myles again. “Thank you for your
interest, Lord Norwich.”

“If you two are
done,” Thomas said flatly as he tried to ignore his jealously over Emma’s
excitement of seeing Myles. “we should board, or the ship will sail without
us.” He turned to Myles, one brow arched. “Am I to presume you’ll be traveling
with us?”

Myles slapped
Thomas on the back and laughed. “Yes, you can, Thomas. Yes, you can.”

“Good.”

Myles presented
his arm for Emma.

“Then shall
we?” Thomas presented his arm also.

Emma glanced
back and forth between him and Myles. Her eyes hinted at mischief. To Thomas’s
utter amazement, she took the arm Myles offered instead of his.

This breach of
etiquette would have to be addressed before Emma made her debut into society.
His status as duke was higher than Myles’s, and her choice would slight Thomas
in the eyes of society. The look he sent Myles should have put his old friend
in his place. No such luck.

Myles grinned,
winked at him, and turned to parade Emma up the gangplank. Neither glanced back
to see if he followed. Thomas had a strong urge to rush forward and wrap his
hands around Myles’s neck.

What did Thomas
care if Myles took an interest in Emma? As Myles had pointed out months ago
before his wanderings across America, he might be interested in marrying her.
Thomas’s heart skipped a beat at the thought.