Page 8 of Duke of Emeralds
Ah, so that is how the news has spread. Through the ladies.Thomas felt a pang of disappointment at the thought, his smile faltering for a moment before he schooled his features once more.
“What an impressive chain,” Thomas said.
“But I must declare it quite convenient now that we will all be married to friends,” he added after another sip of his drink.
“We take it she’s accepted the proposal then?” Craton asked, his brow furrowed slightly as he studied Thomas.
“As a matter of fact, I am yet to know her decision,” he replied with a slight shrug.
“Well, women are inclined to take their time,” Copperton laughed. “Do you think she will accept?”
“Perhaps. I choose to have good faith.” Thomas took another sip of his drink.
“Now, that is quite the spirit,” Craton encouraged.
“The Scottish spirit,” Thomas supported.
The truth, however, was that Thomas did not feel as confident as he let on. Still, Lady Hester was just one out of plenty of English women. If she turned him down, he could always ask another.He took another sip of his drink and swallowed hard, welcoming the distraction and the brief respite from his thoughts.
“But do ye mean it?” Craton sobered and asked him. “The offer you made,” he elaborated, his brow furrowed slightly as he studied Thomas.
“Why?” Thomas couldn’t help but return his friend’s question before answering. There was something rather skeptical about Craton’s demeanor, as if he were looking out for Lady Hester’s best interests.
Thomas, however, was not overly surprised by his friend’s sudden interrogation. Craton had always been brazenly direct and honest, a trait that Thomas admired and respected.
“Ye question me sincerity?”
Craton’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he did not look away. “Your proposal was abrupt; I do not recall you ever expressing interest in Lady Hester. I suppose I am quite surprised,” he admitted.
“Surely ye do not think that I play games?”
“I trusted you with my wealth once,” Craton said, his voice softening slightly. “And I trust you with my life, man. I do not think that you have any games in mind. I simply seek clarification.”
Thomas leaned back in his chair. “Then ye will know that I meant every word I said to Lady Hester last night. I wish to make her me duchess.”
He studied Thomas for a moment longer before nodding his satisfaction. “You should call upon her then,” Copperton suggested, his voice breaking the silence that had descended upon the table. “A little like following up on your proposal. Perhaps she will come to her decision earlier if she sees you again.”
Thomas felt a sudden surge of excitement at his friend’s words, and he smiled.Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier?
CHAPTER 6
The butler entered the drawing room with a polite cough, drawing Hester’s attention from her embroidery. “My Lady, you have a caller,” he announced with a bow.
Hester’s eyes widened in surprise, and she nearly dropped her needle. “A caller? For me?” she asked.
The butler nodded. “Indeed, My Lady. His Grace, the Duke of Lushton.”
Hester’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt a flush creep up her cheeks. She quickly set her embroidery aside, her hands trembling slightly as she smoothed her skirts. “Please, show him in,” she managed to say, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her stomach.
Moments later, the Duke of Lushton entered the room, his tall frame filling the doorway. Hester stood quickly, her embroiderykit tumbling from her lap and scattering across the carpet. “Your Grace,” she said, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she watched the spools of thread and fabric swatches roll in every direction.
The Duke let out a deep chuckle, his Scottish accent lending a musical quality to his laughter. “Please, daenae trouble yerself,” he said, bending down to help gather the scattered items.
Hester knelt as well, her fingers brushing against his as they both reached for the same spool of thread. She pulled her hand back as if burned, her blush deepening. “I… beg your pardon,” she stammered, feeling utterly mortified by her clumsiness.
He smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “There’s nothing to forgive, Lady Hester,” he said, handing her a handful of fabric swatches. “Though I must say, I dinnae expect to find ye engaged in such delicate work.”
Hester took the swatches from him, her fingers trembling slightly. “I… dabble,” she said, her voice barely audible. She couldn’t understand why she suddenly desired to impress him. It was ridiculous, truly. She was a grown woman, not a silly debutante.
