Page 32 of A Murder, a Marquess, and Miss Mifford
He was a gentleman of experience, yet the innocent Miss Mifford was driving him to distraction.
Freddie spent most of the first half of the play debating as to whether he should take Emily's hand in his. Was it too forward? Would she be upset? Or would she simply bat his hand away and hush him with the same ferocity as her sister?
He was still debating the unknowns, when the gas-lights flickered and the curtain fell on the stage for the intermission.
"La! What a riot that was," the duchess called to them both, "The mix-up between theplumassierand the poulterer--oh, I've never laughed so much as when I heard the clucking coming from Mrs Jordan's bonnet. Don't you agree?"
Freddie, who had no idea of what the duchess was speaking, mumbled incoherently in agreement. As did Miss Mifford, whose expression was as dazed as Freddie assumed his own to be.
"You were both riveted to silence," Northcott noted, with a knowing smile Freddie's way. The duke then turned to his wife, who was glancing between them both with confusion, and placed his hand on the small of her back.
"Come, my dear," the duke instructed, "Why don't we fetch the refreshments; I'm certain you need to stretch your legs after that."
"I don't actually," she replied, but her husband did not listen and frog marched her out the door.
"Did you enjoy the first half?" Freddie ventured, once they were alone.
Emily turned her eyes to him, and for the first time since they had met, she looked almost shy.
"In truth, I found that I could not pay proper attention to the goings-on on stage," she confessed, and Freddie's heart filled with hope.
Could it be that she felt the same way as he?
Perhaps noticing his hopeful expression, Emily flushed, as though she regretted having shared her state of distraction with him.
"I mean," she cleared her throat awkwardly, "Who could pay attention to a play, when we have a real-life murder mystery on our hands?"
A silence fell between them, during which Freddie experienced a cascade of differing emotions. Despair moved to sadness, then to insecurity--a feeling Freddie had no time for--until he finally settled on indignation.
"Codswallop," Freddie challenged, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.
"I--I beg your pardon, my lord?"
"Freddie," he corrected her, before continuing, fuelled by indignation, "I am not about to sit here and listen to you tell me that your state of distraction was caused by our investigation."
"Oh, and what doyouthink it was caused by?" Emily retorted, folding her arms stubbornly across her chest. She was not a woman who liked someone telling her how she felt, but, nevertheless, Freddie was about to do just that.
"By me," Freddie waved an arm casually over his athletic form, "By our closeness, by the romance of an evening at the theatre with a handsome marquess. I refuse to believe that the only thing that moves you, Emily, is murder--"
"Perhaps it was your big-head, my lord, which prevented me from enjoying the show," she answered, her irritated tone a perfect match for his own, "It is so enormous, that it obstructs the view."
"I am not big-headed," Freddie answered, struggling to keep his tone even, "I am a realist. It is not untrue to say that I am one of the more handsome men present, nor is it untrue to note that you are the most beautiful woman in the room."
Emily opened her mouth to interrupt him, but as Freddie was on something of a roll, he continued.
"Thus, it is not big-headed of me to assume that you have been as driven to distraction by me, as I by you. Though, perhaps, given that you are more beautiful, I might have been slightly more affected."
Emily opened her mouth to reply, but snapped it shut again, unsure of how to respond to such a passionate outburst.
"I should like to kiss you," Freddie finished, "Not now, not here, but soon."
"My lord, I--"
Whatever Emily's reply was to be, it was lost as the duke and duchess returned, the latter in a state of high excitement.
"Emily," she exclaimed, as she plonked herself down in her seat, "You'll never guess who is here--Mrs Canards!"
The name sounded slightly familiar to Freddie's ear, though he could not place it.
