Page 37 of The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess
I’ve already found himEmmeline noted wistfully to herself.
Scanning the crowd, Emmeline spotted Noah conversing with Lord Bexley–that was normal enough. But what concerned her was the tightly strained look on Noah’s face–a look Emmeline imagined was one worn by a person facing the gallows.
What could possibly be bothering him?
“The first dance, dear,” Aunt Catherine said, “is with Lord Harris from Surrey, and then the second is with the Earl of Essex. And then we have…” Emmeline listened with one ear to her aunt’s chatter, but her mind was focused on the ruse she and Ann were going to play on the two men.
When the call for the first dance was made, Emmeline kissed her aunt on the cheek and lifted her skirts. Her dress, a pale-yellow cotton weave with gold metallic thread embroidery and amber silk ribbons was her favorite, and she rarely wore it–but tonight called for it to be displayed.
Then, by divine will or devilish taunt, Noah’s eyes met hers, and a pain-filled longing went through her, one she thought was mirrored in his eyes. Emmeline had to drag her head away and face her aunt forcefully. The Duke turned away to finish his conversation with Lord Bexley, and it was the perfect opportunity for Emmeline to put her plan in action.
She didn't need to fake her agony as it was already pulsing through her system like a beating drum. She turned away and fled to the nearest balcony with tears in her eyes. Passing by Ann, she hoped her best friend would take the cue, find her brother, and tell George about her distressed state, urging him to find her.
She found the furthest corner of the balcony and huddled in it, far away from the jolly crowd behind. The night was as dark as spots on her soul. The bleakness she felt, knowing that her future was held in the balance and out of her control, was fuel for her performance.
The cold air was a bit bracing, but she was resolute in her purpose. Unbidden but fortunate enough, a tear slipped out of her eye and trickled down her face just as George stepped on the terrace, his expression a bit manic.
“Emmeline!” George snapped, “What the devil are you doing out here? Are you trying to catch the death of cold? The night is freezing.”
“That might be a more merciful death than living with this heartbreak,” Emmeline said bleakly.
George backpedaled at the sound of her glum tone and reached out for his sister. Pulling her into his arm, Emmeline pressed herself into her brother’s chest and breathed in the faint scent of the starch used on his clothes.
“Heartbreak?” George asked. “Emmeline, Newberry's so-called love is nothing for you to be angry or depressed about. You're better off without him.”
“But my heart still pains,” Emmeline whispered, “I love him, George. But knowing that he is counted an enemy to us, he has set his sights on another. Whom I do not know, I only heard it by whispers.”
Braced on his chest, Emmeline didn’t see the happy look on her brother’s face at the announcement that his enemy had chosen another and had left his sister alone.
“Don't be glum, Emmeline,” George said reassuringly. “Even though I abhorred the very thought of you and him, I doubt he can find any better than you.”
Pulling away from him, she dabbed at her eyes, removing the tear stains and managed a wobbly smile.
“But there's not much I can do about it anymore. I'd best rejoin the assembly and try to be happy,” Emmeline sighed. “God help me in doing so.”
She left George stewing on the balcony and stepped into the warm room. Going further inside she saw Ann near the refreshment room and held up three fingers telling her to wait for three minutes. Ann nodded and patted her coiffed hair as she schooled her features into gaiety.
After pouring herself a glass of water, Emmeline watched as Ann started to meander out to the balcony where George was still standing. Sneaking in close enough to overhear the conversation that would occur, Emmeline found a curtained alcove, slipped inside and trained her ears on the two.
“Your Grace,” exclaimed Ann, “what are you doing out here? Miss Harriet, your partner for this dance, is looking high and low for you. Or are you relinquishing your duty as the most eligible bachelor in the room?”
“Are you being impetuous, Miss Benwick?” George asked tightly, “or are you testing my patience?”
“How do you mean?” Ann's voice was laden with innocence. “How can I test your patience, Your Grace? I only came here for a breath of fresh air.”
“Please don't play ignorant, Miss Benwick, it does not suit you.” George snapped, “I know you must have heard that Newberry has chosen another over my sister, evoking her heartbreak. I now have another reason to kill the louse.”
Ann sighed softly and went to the railing, “I do know…Your Grace. The matter is…the Duke of Newberry has set his intentions on me. I haven’t found a way to tell Emmeline yet for fear of losing her friendship.”
“The man is a scoundrel, from a family of heinous degenerates.” George sounded like he was chewing iron. “He's a knave, and a deceiver and his end will be so abhorrent that it will go down into the annals of history! Stay away from him!”
Ann's gasp was audible. “My good sir! I dare say I have never heard such hatred in my life… although I do admit that the Duke is a loose cannon, prone to spates of rashness.”
“My point exactly,” George grated.
“But,” Ann smiled softly, “I have to admit, his spice and spontaneity are more attractive than the bland conformity of most men here.”
“Because he is not like most men here,” George returned darkly. “Most men here do not come from the bowels of evil.”
