Page 10 of A Highly Unlikely Duchess
“I was simply conversing.”
“You were holding court,” Emily said. “There is a difference.”
“I was sharing an anecdote.”
“You were sharing several anecdotes,” Emily said. “About yourself. In succession. Without pause.”
“People were listening.”
“People were being polite,” Emily said. “There is, again, a difference, Your Grace.”
Theodore opened his mouth.
“It was a jest,” he said finally.
“It was a monologue,” Emily said pleasantly. “But yes. Very amusing.”
A short silence fell between them. More silence of two people who had just exchanged several blows in quick succession and were taking a moment to assess the damage.
Julia had stopped pretending to be doing anything other than watching them. She stood with her hands clasped and her head tilted slightly, the expression on her face somewhere between fascination and barely suppressed delight.
“I said confidence was an admirable quality,” Emily continued, turning to Julia with a gracious smile, as though the last two minutes had been perfectly ordinary dinner party conversation. “In moderation. His Grace simply has rather a generous supply of it.”
“She means I’m insufferable,” Theodore told his godmother.
“I said admirable, Your Grace.”
“You meant insufferable.”
“I find...” Emily said serenely. “...that the two are not always mutually exclusive.”
Julia looked at her godson. Then at Emily. Then back to her godson. “Interesting,” she said with a cunning smile as she walked away.
The moment the distance between them and his godmother was sufficient, Emily’s serenity vanished like a candle blown out in a gale. She stepped forward, deliberately cutting off Theodore’s path to the dining room. She moved so quickly he was forced to halt or collide with her, and for a second, the air between them was tight enough to snap.
“Do not ruin this for me, Your Grace,” she rasped. Her voice was no longer a melodic lilt; it was a low, jagged warning that vibrated with raw desperation she had been stifling all morning.
Theodore stilled. He looked down at her, and his expression shifted. The easy amusement did not entirely leave his face, but it shifted, rearranging itself into something considerably more attentive. His head tilted, just slightly, as if she had caught his genuine interest, and for a moment, he simply looked at her.
“There she is,” he said softly. “There is the Emily Pierce that I know.”
The tone of his voice was a low, intimate vibration that felt like a physical touch against her skin. Emily’s breath caught. The heat in his gaze did something to her, a sudden, dizzying spark of recognition that she did not expect.
“You are hiding something, Lady Emily,” he said in the same tone.
Before she could find her tongue to deliver the scathing retort burning in her throat, a hand landed on Theodore’s shoulder.
“Your Grace! Just the man I was looking for,” Lord Halloway boomed, pulling the Duke’s attention toward a group of gentlemen near the door.
Theodore didn't look away immediately. He held Emily’s gaze for a heartbeat longer before he smoothed his features and allowed himself to be led away.
Emily stood alone in the center of the foyer, her hand instinctively reaching for the cool marble of a nearby pedestalto steady herself. Her heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She took a slow, trembling breath, smoothing the silk of her skirts with hands that wouldn't quite stop shaking. She could only hope that Julia had interpreted their little spat as the spirited rapport she seemed to crave, rather than the genuine animosity it was. If Julia sensed the true depth of the friction between them, she might rethink Emily's place on the list, and Emily could not afford to lose her seat at this table. Not when the cost of failing was so high.
“She is rather charming, is she not?”
Theodore did not immediately look up from his glass. He took a small sip, let the comment settle, and then turned to find his godmother at his elbow.
“Who?” he said.
