“Actually, I believe it is checkmate.” Luke moved his knight into position. “I told you that your move would not work.”
“That does not prove that yours would.” She retorted, and he could tell that she was frustrated at the loss.
“Well, let us play again and see.” He replied, resetting the board. “What do you think of Byron?”
“I am fairly certain it is my turn to ask a question. Several in fact.”
“Fine.”
They continued their back and forth, each questioning one another as the game unfolded. Her mind seemed to hop from one subject to another, asking about family pets and then about favourite music and then about whether he preferred the autumn or the winter.
At first he thought it was because she was trying to distract him, but as they talked he found himself relaxing more into the conversation.
“Do you really think that musicians and such are vain if they put their emotions in their music?”
“What?”
“It was something you said. I wanted to know if you truly felt that way.”
Luke paused. His parents’ words on the subject filled his mind.Emotions are the height of vanity.“I do not know. It is something my parents often said, but in truth, I do not know if it is how I feel.”
“Perhaps you should take some time to uncover the truth of your own feelings.” Miss Pembleton moved her piece as he had suggested.
“Perhaps I will. Indulgent as it might seem.” Luke grimaced.My father would hate such a thing.
“I think it is necessary to indulge sometimes. Oh, bother.” Miss Pembleton looked at the board and scowled.
“What?” Luke asked glancing at the pieces before them.
“You were right. I am going to lose.” She glanced at the clock. “I should probably take my leave of you and get changed for dinner.”
“Of course.” Luke stood up. “You play rather well, you know.”
“Thank you.” Miss Pembleton smiled at him, a genuine smile.
“You have an excellent mind for strategy, but you let yourself down by your lack of theory.” He handed her the book he had been reading.
“Do you not wish to practice more?” she made to give him back the book, but he waved her away.
He said, “I can do so when you are finished with it. I suspect that with that knowledge you could play a truly beautiful game.”
“Beautiful enough that you would enjoy losing?” She was teasing him.
“Perhaps.” Luke replied.
“I suppose we shall just have to wait and see.”
“We shall indeed.”
“Goodbye, your Grace.” Miss Pembleton curtsied to him.
“Goodbye, Miss Pembleton.” He watched her go, and as he did, he could not help but realise he was looking forward to their next game.
Chapter Nine
As Emily returned to her room that evening, she found herself replaying much of her conversation with Duke Warren.
“And what do you think of Milton?” he had asked.
