And indeed he did. He reined in his horse right next to Emily and politely nodded to her, smiling. “Good afternoon, Lady Emily. I trust you have recovered from the dreadful crush of the Orman ball?” he said. His smile widened, more of a grin really, wide and white and full of gentle, teasing humour. As if they shared some secret, as if he remembered all too well when she slipped on the stairs and fell into his arms.
A hot blush touched her cheeks, and she ducked her head to try to hide under her bonnet’s straw brim. “I am quite recovered, thank you, your Grace,” she said with a curtsy. “Though I am definitely enjoying the fresh air today much more!”
He laughed, and shifted easily in his saddle, as if he was born on horseback. He looked so right there, Emily thought, comfortable and elegantly powerful, while she was terrified of the huge beasts.
Horses, of course—not dukes. Though she was also rather terrified of him, when he looked at her so intently, as if he was seeing her for the first time. It was a very different sort of terror than that she felt when Mr Lofton grabbed her in the garden, though. It was a temptation inside her own heart.
“I definitely agree with you on that, Lady Emily,” he said. “A sunny day outdoors is much to be preferred.”
Jane gave a delicate cough, and Emily suddenly recalled that she was not, in fact, alone at the park with the duke. “Your Grace, I believe you know my friends, Miss Thornton and Mr Rayburn?”
“Of course I do. How do you do, Miss Thornton, Mr Rayburn? “ he said.
“Very well indeed, your Grace,” Jane said cheerfully. “We were just going for a stroll. Perhaps you would care to join us?”
Emily shot Jane a hard glance, but Jane blithely ignored her. What if she said something foolish to him as he walked right beside her, or, heaven forbid, tripped and fell again?
“I would be happy to join you,” he said. “If you are sure I would not be intruding on your confidences?”
“The path is rather narrow for four, your Grace,” Mr Rayburn said in a hard voice.
Jane tugged sharply at his arm. “Nonsense! Every party is merrier with more, and there is plenty of room near the river. You and I shall just walk ahead, Mr Ray-burn, and his Grace can walk with Lady Emily.”
“Thank you for the invitation,” the duke said. He dismounted and handed the reins over to his groom before offering Emily his arm. Jane had already fulfilled her promise—or threat—and led Mr Rayburn ahead. She tossed a triumphant smile back over her shoulder at Emily.
Emily had no choice. She slid her gloved fingers into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to walk beside her along the path. The other strollers watched them avidly as they went by, but she tried her hardest to ignore them. She watched the path under her feet, wary of every possible obstacle waiting to trip her.
The gossip she would just have to worry about later.
“I hope I am not interrupting important confidences between you and your friends, Lady Emily,” he said quietly.
She glanced up at him, then wished she had not. His eyes really were terribly, terribly blue. “No, of course not, your Grace. Miss Thornton and I were able to confide on the way here. And Mr Rayburn is—well, he is not that sort of friend.”
“Perhaps he is more of a suitor than a friend?” he said teasingly.
But Emily was not accustomed to being teased. She felt that blush flame even hotter. “I—no, of course not.
I just—I. No.”
“Forgive me, Lady Emily. I am so used to teasing my sisters and cousins about their admirers I sometimes forget how to behave in polite society.”
His family—of course. What a prig he must think her after them. “Mr Rayburn does not admire me, your Grace.”
“Does he not? Very foolish of him, I would say.”
“I …” She hardly knew how to answer that. She could scarcely say she actually had no admirers to be teased about, by him or anyone! “How is your family, your Grace? I have not seen any of them since that house party at Welbourne Manor last summer.”
“All disgustingly healthy, thank you. My sister Charlotte is expecting her first child very soon.”
“Indeed?” Emily was astonished. She remembered Charlotte Fitzmanning, with her wild hair and untidy gowns, always with a pack of pug dogs at her heels. Emily knew she had married Andrew Bassington soon after that party, of course—and now she was to be a mother. She would have her very own family. Emily couldn’t help but envy her for that.
“You must send her my best wishes, your Grace,” she said. “Are you hoping for a niece or a nephew?”
“Either, as long as the child—and my sister—are healthy.” He glanced towards the sun-dappled, blue-green river, where children sailed their toy boats and laughed in innocent delight. A shadow seemed to pass over his eyes, and he frowned.
“I am sure they will both be quite safe,” Emily said softly. “Your sister did seem to have a most robust constitution.”
That strange shadow lifted from his face, and he laughed. “That she does. I already have one niece, little Katherine, my sister Justine’s child. I am sure she would like a little girl for her playmate.”
“I should like to have a niece, too,” she said. She gestured toward a pretty, tiny redhead toddling by the water’s edge as her nurse flirted with a footman nearby. The child waved her hands and laughed in sheer pleasure. “Perhaps one like that girl?”
“A fine choice, Lady Emily.” He led her again along the path, closer to the river. “I do hope you are quite well after the ball? That fall you took …”
A group of children ran across the path in front of them, distracting her and making her laugh. “It was nothing at all, your Grace. I fear it could have been worse, though, if you had not been there to assist me.” “That is my task at balls, to rescue fair maidens.” “You should not let that be known widely, then, or ladies would be fainting at your feet in droves in hopes of rescue.”
He gave a startled laugh. “Why, Lady Emily! Was that a joke?”
Emily thought about it for a moment. “I think it might have been.”
“A joke with an unfortunate grain of truth, I fear.”
“You probably don’t need to worry, your Grace. Most society ladies are not so clumsy as I am and could not fall if they tried.”
“I am glad to hear it. I can’t spend all my time saving fainting ladies. But I can’t believe anyone could ever call you clumsy, Lady Emily.”
“Oh, they could,” she said with a sigh. “And I think—”
From the corner of her eye, Emily caught a glimpse of flashing movement, dark and strange in the bright day. She spun around, and to her horror saw a runaway curricle barrelling down the roadway—and straight toward the red-haired child. The driver, a terrified-looking young man, had lost the reins. Pedestrians dived out of its wild path, shrieking, but the little girl was terribly oblivious.
“No!” Emily screamed. She ran towards the child, but her skirt hem wrapped around her ankles and tripped her.
The duke had no such constraints. He dashed past Emily, swift on his long, powerful legs, and dived for the child as the carriage crashed ever nearer. Everyone else ran the other way, but not him. He took a diving leap for the girl and caught her up in his arms a split second before the curricle would have run over her.
His momentum carried them both over the embankment and straight into the placid waters of the river.
Terrified, Emily lifted her wretched hems and dashed towards the river, along with everyone else. The carriage had finally ground