“I’m sorry, Emrys,” said Robert quietly. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”
Emrys shook his head. “I know. Sometimes it feels like a nightmare, and I’ll wake up one morning and everything will be back the way it was. But then each day it becomes more and more obvious that it won’t.” He sighed and rubbed his face.
“Do you want to join the ladies?”
“Aye, why not?” He tossed off the rest of his port and rose, straightening his jacket. His damned neckcloth felt too tight. This wretched heat didn’t agree with him.
He was still fiddling with it as the duke held the door for him as he stepped into the drawing room. There was no fire—the doors stood open to the gardens, letting a cool breeze into the room—and the ladies were scattered about the room on sofas. Lady Heather and Miss Mary Watson were bent over a book, Lady Ava paced restlessly before the open windows, Sarah, and dowager duchess talked quietly, and Miss Pringle, by herself, engaged in some needlework under the light of a candelabra on the table beside her.
She was dressed neatly in a plain, dark-blue muslin, with a white shawl draped round her shoulders. The gown had a modest neckline, and her only jewelry was a seed pearl brooch, fixed to the center of her bosom. The placement drew his eyes inexplicably to the swell of her breasts outlined by the plainnavy ribbon running beneath them. He recalled the moment she had placed her hand upon his arm this afternoon in wordless sympathy and a sudden restless surge of heat disturbed his equilibrium.
He averted his eyes from her in confusion, hoping that the faint flush in his cheeks went unnoticed by the company.
Ava turned at their entrance and pounced on her brother. “Robert! Some entertainment please—country life is insupportable! I have become overly spoiled by my London season. What do you suggest we do?”
“We could play cards,” suggested Sarah. “There are eight of us, two tables of Whist?”
The duke glanced at him. “You amenable, Emrys?”
“Why not?” he said with a shrug.
In a few minutes, tables and chairs were assembled, two decks of cards produced, and candelabra situated to give adequate light to the players. Emrys found himself paired with Miss Pringle against Lady Ava and the dowager duchess. Since both the duchess and Lady Ava were fiercely competitive, it became quickly obvious that he needed to pay attention. To his surprise, Miss Pringle proved an astute player, and he kept his gaze away from that disturbing brooch, or rather its disturbing location. Surprisingly, the game jerked him out of his fit of melancholy. It was impossible to remain melancholy in Lady Ava’s presence he discovered. The young lady’s vivacious spirits refused to allow it.
“Mama, what were you thinking? I was counting on you to trump Lord Ashford’s wretched king!” she exclaimed in the last round.
“I’m sorry, my dear. I had nothing else to play!”
“You must allow us another game to be avenged upon you, Lord Ashford,” said Ava gathering up the cards.
“What say you, Miss Pringle? Should we assay another game or quit while we’re ahead?”
“One more game, then Heather and Ingrid must retire, and me with them,” she said.
“Oh, you cannot leave before the tea tray comes!” exclaimed Ava.
“Only if the duke permits,” said Miss Pringle firmly.
They played one more hand and Ava and the dowager were victorious. The tea tray arrived on the heels of the game, and Miss Pringle and the girls stayed to partake of tea before she whisked them away to bed.
The dowager yawned and left them soon after, so that it was just himself, the Lady Ava, and the duke and duchess. Ava, still bubbling with energy, then demanded that her brother play while she sang. She had a lovely voice and the ballad she chose was stirring, a tale of a young maid’s lost love. He found himself with a lump in his throat. He was altogether too vulnerable to melancholy at present.
The duke then put him to the blush by saying in heartening accents, “Ava, you play while Emrys treats us to his voice.”
“Oh yes, please do, Lord Ashford,” said Ava with a wide smile, taking her place at the instrument. He reluctantly joined her, and they found a tune they both knew. Ava smiled up at him and casually touched his hand with hers, which made him freeze in alarm.Lady Ava could not be flirting with him, could she?He straightened, acutely uncomfortable, and cleared his throat.
He sang the song but refused to be drawn into singing more and retired to a single chair as far away from Ava as possible. He just hoped Robert hadn’t noticed. He would have his guts for garters if he suspected Emrys of any intentions in that direction, and he wouldn’t blame him. Not that hehadany intentions. Ava was a pretty girl and lively as a sparrow, but even if she hadn’t been Robert’s sister, he was emphatically not interestedin pursuing any woman at present. He doubted very much if he would ever do so again. His heart was shattered, and his sense of trust broken.
He retired to bed soon after that and found his valet, Felton, in his room waiting for him. Felton was annoyed with him, which was nothing new, but the man was too well-trained to show it openly.
“Do you require a nightshirt, my lord?”
“No, thank you. It’s too hot. You don’t need to linger, Felton. I can undress myself.”
Felton bowed precisely and said with offended dignity, “If you would allow me to have that waistcoat, my lord, it has an indelible stain.”
“What stain?” Emrys looked down at his waistcoat. “Oh that. I hadn’t noticed.”
“No, my lord.” Felton said with feeling and moved to take the waistcoat off him as Emrys undid the buttons. Sliding it off his shoulders he continued, “If your lordship permits, I will repurpose this garment as it is not fit to be worn. If I’d known you proposed towearit—”
