The Demure Debutante - a Regency Novella (6 page)

After gathering her wits, Emilia finally started reading. Her mother was right; it was a remarkably pleasant day. From chapter to chapter, her eyes devoured the words. However, when she was several pages in, she came across a word that gave her pause.

“Arthur?” Emilia held her book toward him.

“Hmm?”

“What is this word? I don't think I've ever seen it before.” Her finger prodded the page as she pointed out the troublesome word to Arthur.

“Legerdemain,” he read aloud.

“What does it mean?”

“It's a trick,” Arthur explained. “A sleight of hand.”

“Oh. Well... thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Emilia turned her attention back to her book, but for the next few seconds, her mind was clouded by lustful thoughts. On top of everything, Arthur Rochefort was a man of intelligence. Emilia was starting to feel as if his perfection was ruining her life.

After several more minutes elapsed, Augusta held out her book. “Arthur!” As she squealed his name, she wagged her book under his nose.

“Did you need me to decipher a difficult word as well?” Arthur asked with a chuckle.

“No. I want you to read to me... if you don't mind?” Augusta requested. “My eyes are going a bit fuzzy.”

“I don't mind at all.” Arthur took the book from Augusta and held it in his lap. “Do you mind, Miss Harcourt?”

Emilia closed her book and shook her head. When she saw her mother's grin, Emilia understood the reason for her request. Augusta's eyes weren't going fuzzy, she just wanted an excuse to listen to Arthur's deep voice. Emilia rolled her eyes at her mother's blatant idolization of Arthur.

Of course, Emilia wasn't going to complain. When she closed her eyes and listened to Arthur's silky voice, a chill rippled down her spine. A sad realization dawned on her. Through Willow and Edward, she and Arthur Rochefort would forever be linked—and he would never be hers. For the rest of her life, she would admire him from afar.

Dreaming of him was all she could ever do.

Her mother's voice interrupted Arthur's reading. “I might be catching a chill. Will you take me back inside?”

“Of course.” Arthur leapt to his feet and smacked a few blades of grass from his breeches. He tightened Augusta's shawl around her shoulders, and the brief contact with his hand made the older woman's eyelids flutter dreamily. Emilia had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. At least her mother would understand her suffering! Emilia wondered how many women Arthur had inflicted with the pain of unrequited love. “Are you coming, Emilia?”

“I think I'll stay here awhile longer.”

Arthur gave her a nod, then steered her mother's Bath chair toward the house. Emilia turned her attention back to her book, pleased that her concentration improved upon Arthur's absence. As much as she enjoyed his company, the distraction he provided was not always a welcome one.

Emilia was alone, but not for long. Shortly after Arthur and her mother disappeared, she heard someone whisper, “
Miss Harcourt
...”

Emilia's eyes leapt from the book and scanned her surroundings. When she saw Brittley Christian's face peering at her from behind the tree, her shoulders tensed. “Mr. Christian?!” she exclaimed. “What are you--?!”

Brittley swept forward and grabbed her hand. “I needed to see you. Ever since we parted ways, you're all I've been able to think about.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it several times. She might have pulled her hand away, but she was in a daze.

He sat right next to her, so she scooted away from him. “Mr. Christian, I'm not sure it's proper for you to accost me like this!”

“But I
needed
to see you.”

Emilia glanced around nervously, fearing that Arthur might return and catch them together. “We should not be alone!” she whispered.

“Your hair is like spun gold.” As he sang her praises, he stroked a lock of her hair.

“My hair is drab,” she countered.

“Your eyes are like emeralds, two precious gems behind a curtain of adorable eyelashes.”

Emilia had such a low opinion of herself, she did not believe a word he said. “You're really going to pour the butter boat that thick, Mr. Christian?”

“I speak the truth!” He saw her look down at her book, so he snatched it from her lap and snapped it shut. “You need to know how beautiful you are, Miss Harcourt.”

Emilia looked down at her hands, which were fidgeting in her lap. “But I'm plain.”

“You're not! You're a very pretty girl, Emilia.
Emilia
.” When he repeated her name, he sounded a bit sinister. “I brought a gift for you. I hope that's alright?”

“I suppose it would depend on the gift, Mr. Christian.”

Brittley pulled a diamond bracelet from the pocket of his greatcoat. As he held it against her wrist, he grinned. “I think it will look beautiful on you.”

Emilia nervously chewed her lip. “I think your choice of gift might be slightly inappropriate.”

“No. It isn't.” He fastened the bracelet to her wrist.

“I believe it is.” As she stared at the jewelry, Emilia was slack-jawed. She had never owned something so expensive. “I can't accept it!”

“You
will
accept it. You don't have a choice!”

“Well.... I still think it is improper to accept such a gift,” Emilia's voice was wavering as she spoke. “You hardly know me!”

“But I want to know you,” Brittley said. “And I want to make you mine.”

“Why?! Why are you so fascinated with me!? I'm nothing special.”

“And I want to be yours,” Brittley continued, completely ignoring her self-deprecation. “I want to give you my heart.”

“But I know nothing about you!”

He moved closer to her, so close that she could feel his breath as he spoke. “What do you want to know about me, my dear? I'm an open book!”

“I want to know why you think I'm worthy of your time!”

Brittley's hand returned to her hair. When his finger brushed against her ear, she felt a tingling sensation in her brain, and it wasn't entirely unpleasant. “I already told you why, Emilia. I think you're beautiful. You're innocent and sweet and charming and adorable and... I desperately want to kiss you.”

“I don't think that's wise.” Emilia swallowed hard. While she knew his behavior was reprehensible, it was nice to be on the receiving end of a man's amorous attentions. He did not seem like an honorable sort of gentleman, but he was handsome, and it was impossible to be unmoved by his passionate confessions.

“
Please
, Emilia,” he beseeched her. “Please. Let me kiss you?”

“I... don't...” In the face of so much passion, her desire to protest was melting away.

Brittley leaned toward her, slowly closing the gap between them. Emilia closed her eyes in anticipation of his kiss—was she wrong to want it?

His lips were an inch away from hers when she heard the sound of a clearing throat.

“AHEM.”

When she opened her eyes, Arthur was standing over them. Arthur, who was the larger man, seized Brittley by the collar of his greatcoat and dragged him to his feet.

“Ah... Arthur, old boy!” Brittley chuckled. “What are you doing here?”

“What are YOU doing here?!” Arthur fired back at him. “You're not welcome!”

“Aww... that's no way to treat an old friend!” Brittley smacked Arthur's hand from his collar and turned his gaze to Emilia. When they made eye contact, he winked at her.

“You're no friend of mine.” Arthur's voice was cold and convincing. “I think it's time for you to leave!”

“Really? But we were just getting to the good bits!”

“
Leave
!” Arthur gave his adversary a push. “And if I ever see you talking to Miss Harcourt again, you'll live to regret it!”

“How very fatherly of you!” Brittley exclaimed. “Or... perhaps you want the lady for yourself?”

“I am more like her brother, and as her brother, it's my duty to protect her from the likes of you!”

“Brother,” Brittley repeated with a snort. As he walked away, he murmured under his breath, “then I suppose I'll be soiling your second sister in due time, you pompous prig!”

When Brittley was gone, Arthur reached down and helped Emilia to her feet. “Don't go near that man,” he cautioned her. “Do you understand me?!”

Emilia looked down at her feet, abashed. “I didn't. He approached me...”

“If you see him come around, send him away!” Arthur insisted. “Or call out my name, and
I'll
send him away! He's not fit to stand in your presence!”

“But--”

“No,” Arthur interrupted her. “I'm
very
serious, Emilia. You have to listen to me, alright? He's a dangerous man, and I'll not have him coming around you!” Arthur coiled his arm around hers and propelled her toward the house. “You need to learn to avoid men like that...”

“Is that your
brotherly
advice?” Emilia asked with a roll of her eyes.

“It is,” Arthur affirmed, completely oblivious to the fact that his words were crushing her heart. “And it's sound advice. I'll not have that man steering you down the wrong path!”

“He doesn't seem so bad.”

“He is!” Arthur stopped walking and turned her in his direction. “Emilia, I don't want you to end up like Willow.”

“And what's wrong with Willow?” Emilia crossed her arms over her chest in defiance. “She seems like someone to admire!”

“She is. My sister is a good woman... the kindest woman in the world,” Arthur said. “But men didn't always treat her with the respect she deserved... and she let it happen. As her brother, I couldn't stand to see that happen.”

“I admire Willow,” Emilia insisted. “I see nothing wrong with wanting to emulate her!”

“
Please
...” Arthur slipped a finger under Emilia's chin and lifted her head, forcing her to make eye contact with him. “I wouldn't want you to get hurt.”

“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Rochefort, but you are
not
my brother.” She pushed his hand away and stormed off in the direction of the house. “I'll make my own decisions, thank you very much!”

Chapter Eight

Edward and Arthur were standing beside the horses, patiently awaiting the arrival of their female companions. When Willow and Emilia finally appeared, they were walking arm-in-arm.

And Arthur's heart sank.

“Breeches?!” he exclaimed. As he raked his eyes across Emilia's body, they were filled with disapproval. “Willow, what are you thinking?!”

“Don't we look fetching?” As Willow struck a pose, she gave the younger girl a reassuring wink. Both women were dressed identically, in buckskins, top-boots, gentlemen's shirts and—oddly enough—a lady's spencer. “I told Emilia I'm not comfortable riding sidesaddle... that it's much easier to ride like a man. Her curiosity was piqued, so I let her borrow some of my clothes!”

Arthur cast a hopeless glance in Edward's direction, as if hoping he would say something. “I'm... speechless,” Arthur grumbled. To Edward, he added, “She's your sister. Surely you can't approve of this?”

“And Willow is
your
sister,” Edward pointed out. “You seem content enough to let her get away with it.”

“Willow is a bit... headstrong. I know I cannot prevent her from doing whatever she wishes,” Arthur ruefully reported. “However, I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of Emilia becoming her protege.”

Edward gave him an encouraging slap on the arm. “Well, as you said, she's
my
sister. I see nothing wrong with letting her have a bit of fr-fr-freedom.” When he felt Willow pinching his rear end, he hoped her brother would not notice. Lately, it seemed to be her favorite place to pinch him.

“What if someone should happen to see you like this, Emilia? I would not want them to get the wrong impression of you!” Arthur exclaimed.

“And what would they think? That I'm a hoyden? That I enjoy a relaxing ride? You really need to lighten up, Mr. Rochefort!” As she spoke, Emilia swiftly mounted her horse. She had to admit: wearing a man's breeches made the task
much
less difficult.

“Besides,” Willow added, “I have been riding
many
times, and I never encounter anyone! Our nearest neighbor is very far. Don't listen to my brother, Emilia. He has uttered the same words to me more times than I can count!”

As he mounted his horse, Arthur heaved a sigh of defeat. He already knew there was nothing he could say to get them to change their minds. Another word of protest would simply be a waste of breath.

When everyone had mounted up, they headed toward the brook, which happened to be the same direction Emilia had taken when she got lost. However, with so many people accompanying her, she knew she had nothing to fear. She was sure Willow and Arthur could navigate the area much more efficiently than she could.

“I can't believe we're getting married in four days!” Willow exclaimed. “
Four days
! I don't think I've ever been so excited in my life!”

“Nor I,” Edward agreed. He
was
excited—and nervous. The closer they got to their wedding day, the more he could feel his nerves mounting. Having no experience in the bedroom was an intimidating privation. What if he wasn't the lover she wanted him to be?

“All I can think about is what a lucky woman I am!” Willow declared. “I will have the kindest, most charming husband in the entire world!”

“And I'll have the most beautiful, loving, caring wife.”

As she watched them exchange adoring glances, Emilia caught herself frowning. She desperately wanted to feel the fervor of love. More specifically, she wanted someone to feel the fervor of love
for her
. Emilia wondered what it would be like to be the most important person in the world to someone, to feel as if her presence was a necessity. She wanted someone to feel as if it was impossible to live without her.

When she sneaked a glance at Arthur, she caught him staring at her. As soon as their eyes made contact, he looked away. How often did his eyes wander to her, she wondered. Did it mean anything, or was he simply disapproving of her choice of attire? Either way, his brotherly feelings for her were becoming an annoyance.