Page 2 of It's In The Duke's Kiss
Emma immediately glanced to her left, and as her gaze found Nathaniel, her stomach knotted. He looked perfect, as always. The dark blue coat he wore nicely displayed his broad shoulders while superbly contrasting all that was golden about him, from his light hair to his brown, gold-flecked eyes. He stood facing his older brother, the always-serious Duke of Blackbourne. His Grace was speaking rapidly, as if he was lecturing, or at least it appeared that way to Emma. When her mother lectured, she always spoke in a rush.
Emma’s heart squeezed for Nathaniel. She’d heard the gossipmongers twitter about some scandal attached to him recently—something about being thrown out of Oxford—but Emma refused to believe he would compromise a lady. He was an honorable man. Well, her heart told her he was, anyway.
“I’m going to skate by him and drop my handkerchief,” Emma said hurriedly, her excitement exploding in her chest.
Mary gasped. “No, Emmaline! A true lady would never—”
Emma turned her skates sharply away from her sister and shoved off, blessedly not hearing the rest of whatever Mary said. She knew very well what she was supposed to do. She didn’t need Mary to tell her that a proper lady would simply stand there and wait and pray that Nathaniel noticed her and came to speak to her. A proper lady might even skate very slowly and primly by him in hopes that he would take note and say hello.
Emma had tried to be proper around him ever since when years before Mother had said that the only thing Nathaniel likely remembered about her was that she had climbed a tree at his great-uncle’s home when she was a child, fallen out, and received a much-deserved scolding. Yet the handful of times she’d seen him through the years, he only seemed to notice her when she was being her improper self, which only served to prove that they belonged together. He liked her as she truly was.
Emma glided over the thick, gleaming ice toward the edge of the Serpentine where Nathaniel stood with his brother near a mead tent someone had pitched. The cold, crisp air whistled in her ears as it washed over her face and made her cheeks burn. She slowed as she got closer, took out her handkerchief, and dropped it right in front of Nathaniel. “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed.
His eyebrows shot up, then slowly lowered along with his gaze, which slid down her body to her handkerchief before returning to her face.
He grinned. “Lady Emmaline?”
She barely resisted frowning. “You say my name as if you’re unsure it’s me.”
Nathaniel chuckled. “You’ve changed greatly since last I saw you.”
“Well, ithasbeen a year,” she blurted, before she thought better of revealing that she knew exactly how much time had passed since she’d last seen him.
Nathaniel threw his head back and laughed, but the duke frowned. Emma struggled not to scowl at the man. The few times she had run across His Grace, he had offered the necessary greetings, yet his words held no warmth, much like his cool gray eyes. Nathaniel, on the other hand, had warm eyes and an even warmer smile. She felt positively heated by his appreciative gaze.
He bent down, retrieved her handkerchief, and handed it to her. “The last year has been well to you,” he said in a voice that made her belly flutter.
“Nathaniel,” His Grace said in a warning tone that reminded Emma of her mother.
Nathaniel cut his gaze to his brother then back to her. He let out a sigh, and she tensed. He was going to bid her good day, and all because of his brother! She could feel it! She openly scowled at the Duke of Blackbourne now, who appeared not to notice, but when she looked at Nathaniel from under her lashes, she noted his lips twitching upward into an amused smile.
Nathaniel met her eyes. “Perhaps, I will see you in a bit? I must finish discussing some business with my brother.”
The Duke of Blackbourne inclined his head to her, and she couldn’t help noticing how lovely and thick his black hair was…and how perfectly it suited his dark personality. A nervous laugh escaped her with the errant thought, and she quickly slapped a gloved hand over her mouth. She positively hated when she did that.
She took a deep breath and spoke. “Good day, Your Grace. And Lord Nathaniel, perhaps we will see each other again soon.” Emma forced herself to turn and skate away through the throng of people. Her heart pounded as she headed toward a less crowded section of the ice where hopefully Nathaniel would see her and join her.
To her right, she saw a flash of purple, and she knew immediately that her sister, always too proper to actually skate, had followed Emma’s progress along the edge of the Serpentine.
When Emma stole a glance, her sister’s scowl was plain enough even from the distance that separated them. Emma frowned. From Mary’s irritated expression, she had no doubt her sister’s patience for this outing was almost expired. She spun around and glanced toward Nathaniel, who was still talking to his brother. She had to do something drastic to get him on the ice with her or Mary would drag her home.
Mother would likely blister her ears tonight for seeking out Nathaniel’s attention, but Emma didn’t care. If Mother had her way, she’d marry Emma off to a dull gentleman who wouldn’t let her race horses, skate too fast, laugh too loud, or dance with too much enthusiasm. Emma shuddered. Such a life would kill her.
She sucked a breath of cool air into her lungs. Her limbs tingled in anticipation as she took off around the wide-open space. She made a circle as she glided around, picking up speed as she went. Her cap flew off and her hair blew behind her. The distant noise of people talking faded as the swish of her skates against the ice and the hiss of the air from her pace filled her ears.
She skated around once, twice, three times—so exhilarated that she whooped with joy—and then she did something her mother would surely scold her for later, saying it was the most unpardonable, unladylike faux paus ever: she threw her arms wide and she spun until she was laughing so hard that tears leaked from her eyes. If Nathaniel didn’t join her now, then so be it.
Lucian pulled his gaze away from Lady Emmaline’s lithe, graceful form as she skated away. He rarely thought Nathaniel was correct about much, but his brother was perfectly right that Lady Emmaline had greatly changed. The last time Lucian had seen her—had it truly been a year since his great-uncle Danby’s Christmas party?—she’d been all gangly limbs, and he could clearly recall her standing alone in a corner staring at the dancers. He’d asked Nathaniel to partner with her and then ordered him when he’d refused. Lucian would have partnered with her himself, but by the way she always stared at Nathaniel, Lucian knew that she liked his brother.
Nathaniel hiccupped and Lucian frowned. “You’ve drunk too much mead,” he growled under his breath just as his brother seemed to sway with the wind. Nathaniel tipped precariously to the right, and Lucian grabbed his elbow and steadied him.
“Thank you, Lucian,” Nathaniel slurred, then offered a mock salute before turning his attention back to the ice where hundreds of people were skating. The lot of them seemed unencumbered with responsibility. He, however, had so much responsibility that he had a constant ache coiling across the breadth of his shoulders.
He tried to force his mouth into a smile, but his skin felt like it would crack under the foreign movement, so he let the effort go. Dukes didn’t smile anyway. It was a known and accepted fact. Dukes made decisions that would increase the family money. Dukes solved problems, offered advice, and commanded when necessary. Lucian took a deep breath and prepared to do the last three directly.
He tugged a hand through his hair as he looked at his brother. Nathaniel was younger by seven years, yet at times, Lucian felt as if he were easily twenty years older than his brother. He was tired of feeling so old and burdened, but what choice was there? He was the duke and had been since his father’s death fourteen years ago. “Nathaniel, we need to discuss your problems.”
“I don’t have any.” Nathaniel’s expression grew hard and resentful.
