Page 61 of Dukes Do It Better
Marjorie sniffed and took the journal. “I’ll see to it. As you said, a pretty apology and a token gesture on my part should clear the way to forgetting the whole thing if I bring them this. Lord Clarey has a niece debuting next Season, I believe. Horse-faced little thing if I remember correctly. But if I sponsor her, I’m sure it will secure his assistance in making this go away.”
That poor niece. Biting the inside of his cheek leashed a sympathetic grimace. “I’ll leave this in your more than capable hands, then.” Malachi bowed to his mother and left the library as quickly as he’d arrived.
Hill Street was only a short walk away. Emma’s farewell had seemed strange last night. Distracted and not quite right. Their conversation about the future hadn’t resulted in an actual plan, but their agreement that this affair wouldn’t be a temporary thing had been lightening his mood ever since he awoke. A glance at his pocket watch showed the hour was early, but not obscenely so. Alton would have been awake for quite a while, according to everything she’d said about their schedule, so she’d be up for the day as well.
Tilting his hat at a jaunty angle, Malachi turned toward Calvin’s house on Hill Street. It was hard not to whistle a tune as he raised his face toward the sun.
By resolving the threat to his mother, the reasons for the Admiralty holding him on land were eliminated. The last letter from his first lieutenant said the drydock repairs would be finished within the month.
Which meant he had a few more weeks to enjoy Emma before leaving. And this time, when he kissed her goodbye and sailed with the tide, she would be waiting for his return with open arms.
Finally, things were looking up.
Chapter Seventeen
I sometimes wonder if the true measure of a family is in how they weather hardship. Mine splintered apart, leaving me with a reliable brother and parents who only occasionally pretended to care.
—Journal entry, May 8, 1824
After hours of restless tossing and turning, Emma rolled from bed. No need to stop before the mirror when she knew she looked like a gorgon. Inanimate objects confirming the situation wouldn’t help her mood.
Emma felt like a little black rain cloud as she entered the cheery breakfast room with morning light bringing a glow to the yellow walls. Grumpily blowing a hank of hair away from the corner of her mouth, she blinked away the sleepy dirt and tugged at the neckline of her wrapper to make sure it covered the love bite from last night’s doomed escapades.
Mornings like this made her infinitely grateful for her family. No one talked to anyone until after their second cup of coffee. It was a rule. They hadn’t exactly stated it in as many words, but it was a rule. A rule everyone respected when she flopped down in the chair like a rag doll. Her brother raised his brows, then slid the coffeepot toward her with one finger.
When Emma poured her second cup, Phee spoke. “I take it you didn’t sleep well?”
“No.” Emma’s voice sounded dull and hollow. “I found something last night.” Telling them hadn’t been her intent, but the story had been bubbling inside her all night, and now it seemed determined to trip off her tongue no matter what. Besides, she’d decided honesty was the best way to break old habits. After a concentrated effort these past weeks, speaking the truth felt more natural, which provided bittersweet comfort.
“At Mal’s?” Cal asked. She had to give him credit for not sounding judgmental about his little sister having an affair with a friend.
“At Mal’s,” Emma confirmed. “Do you remember last year when I wrote to you about misplacing my journal?”
Phee knit her brows together. “Yes. You thought Alton had run off with it.”
Emma sighed and braced herself with another sip of coffee. “Right around the same time, I met Mal at an assembly in the village and we spent the night together.”
Phee nodded. “I remember.”
“If this story has a point, I’m not following it,” Cal said.
Emma set her coffee cup down and stared into the dark depths. “Mal has my journal. Or had my journal. I found it last night in his room. I stole it back and now I can never see him again.”
“Oh my,” Phee said.
“Oh my, indeed,” Cal said. “What exactly was in this journal?”
Emma leaned back in her chair. “A lot. One journal usually takes me about a year and a half to two years to fill. It was a daily or sometimes weekly accounting of my life and my thoughts. I didn’t expect anyone to ever read it, so I didn’t prevaricate while writing.”
“So, he knows everything. Phee’s history, all of it,” Calvin said.
Phee grimaced. “I suppose that makes confessing all the family secrets rather anticlimactic.”
“I told him about Alton’s parentage, but left out certain details about you and Adam.” Emma chose to ignore the raised eyebrows around the table at the news of her opening up to Mal. “It gets worse. I think I found the blackmailer. Mal had another note, already written, tucked into the journal,” Emma said. Trying to determine why he would do such a thing had kept her up all night. What did he have to gain? There was no clear answer.
Phee froze, and her eyes went wide. “Shit.”
“Precisely my reaction as well,” Emma said.
