Page 9 of The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess
Ann craned her neck. “Oh dear, I hope Owen returns soon, for it is getting crowded swiftly.” Mr. Benwick was merely several paces away from them, but the crowd made it impossible to see him.
A large canvas, bearing a pleasant painting, was being drawn back by men to reveal the most popular attraction, The Cascade. It was a man-made waterfall, controlled by modern mechanics, with even the sound of the falling water artificially produced.
At that moment, Owen appeared, bearing large pieces of fragrant apple pies. They each took their share and made haste to get a position in the rush of ebullient onlookers.
Suddenly, water, bright and stunning as if lit by sunlight, cascaded down unseen turns and barely-visible rocks. The peaceful sound of rushing water was broken by the sudden burst of applause and chatter of the people surrounding the magnificent display.
“Heavens! That does not look man made at all,” Emmeline gasped.
“They have cleverly arranged the lighting and sounds on principles of physics,” Owen remarked.
“Now do not start telling us about those principles, Owen,” Ann warned.
Owen scowled. “I did not intend to, dear sister. I barely know them myself.”
Emmeline ignored the squabbling siblings. Although the Cascade was something to be admired, Emmeline preferred natural beauty. She thought that the missing peace and quiet of Mother Nature was something no one could reproduce, no matter how many laws of physics they attempted to apply.
Then she remembered the book that Noah had suggested to her. It had been so monotonous, and filled with terms she could hardly decode, that she had fallen asleep on the comfortable, overlarge chair in the Croxton library.
Her thoughts were cut to the quick when her dry throat demanded something to soothe it. As she believed she had seen a stand with some cold lemonade being sold nearby, Emmeline left the two bickering siblings.
She walked to the old woman sitting beside the lemonade stall, paying her a penny for the drink. The tangy taste of lemons on her tongue was just what she needed.
“Lady Emmeline?” a surprised voice said.
Emmeline stopped drinking to immediately turn. She shivered as that deep voice washed over her–it was the Duke of Newberry. How could she not believe that he would find her, even halfway across London, in this heavy crowd? A part of her was beginning to believe that there was a magnetic power operating between them–a mischievous one, of course–but one that never failed to draw them together.
“Your Grace,” Emmeline said evenly as she turned and lifted her head to stare into his eyes. “What a surprise seeing you here.”
The Duke was silent before his lips stretched into a knowing smirk. “Not as surprising as seeing you, My Lady. You do know this is a place that ruins reputations?”
“It is a place of man-made wonder and intrigue,” Emmeline replied, as she found her ground. “One can only indulge in the immoral if one chooses to.”
The Duke glanced over his shoulder and then quickly back to her, “Come with me, you are in the open. Some members of thetonare here, and it will do you no good to be seen.”
With her hand grasped in his, Emmeline felt a warmth come over her at his touch, and followed him past the Cascade and vendor stalls, into the winding trails of the gardens. The serpentine paths were marked by unlit standing gas lights and tall hedges. Their hurried pace slowed when they stepped into a smaller pathway and were out of sight.
“I should say that I am surprised seeing you here, but I really am not,” the Duke of Newberry said, as they strolled down the stone path “I know you’ve been laden with Pandora’s curse.”
“I have not let out all the evils of this world, Your Grace.” Emmeline replied stiffly, “If that is what you’re implying.”
He stopped before a rose bush and turned to her, his glimmering gray eyes lit with humor, “I am only saying that you’re a curious soul, Lady Emmeline.”
Merely a foot away, Emmeline examined the Duke’s clothes–buckskin breeches, a fitted black waistcoat over a matching shirt, dark ascot, and heavy boots. With his ever present fly-away hair, the man looked like he had just ridden the tundra instead of walking a cobblestone path.
His gaze was discomfiting so she turned away, “It is so. I am burdened with a quest for knowledge.”
The Duke’s lips pressed together tightly, “For the sake of my sanity, I cannot and will not assume that you’ve arrived here on your own. That is a dangerous endeavor, even for an adventurous mind like yourself.”
The tone he used was laden with masculine protection and it provoked a soft heat inside her, “I came here with the Benwicks. Owen, Ann’s brother, was blackmailed into carrying us here.”
“Then I will have to return you to the–”
Emmeline suddenly found herself dragged into the Duke’s arms and twisted away from the hedge that she was standing beside. She was about to strike him when voices she recognized as Lord and Lady Garrick, fashionable members of theton, drifted pass. She was twisted away into a position that looked like a heated kiss, contorted into an angle that hid her face. Her eyes were inches away from Noah’s and his gray orbs–glittering like polished granite–became her world.
“Stay still,” he mouthed.
Emmeline nodded and resolutely stopped her lips from trembling. She clutched at his shoulders as the couple passed by, but her focus wasn’t on them. The Duke’s gray eyes were hypnotic and mesmerizing.
