Nicholas laughed, and sat down in one of the worn-out armchairs across from the desk. "I thank you for the advice. I think I need as much counsel as I can find for the married state."

"I don't think you need fear with my Emily. The girl is not a chatterer, she never was. In fact, I seldom know what she's thinking at all. Rather disconcerting, that. But she is a good girl, and smart. She'll run your houses and raise your children with no trouble at all." He suddenly pinned Nicholas with his surprisingly bright green gaze, so much like Emily's. "You have come to ask for her hand, I take it?"

Nicholas took a deep breath. "I have, Lord Moreby. I will be most honoured and happy if Lady Emily would be my wife, and, er, run my houses and raise my children." Not that there would be any children, not after Valentina. But no one had to know that.

"Excellent. I consent, of course. You seem patient enough, and honourable. You should make her a good husband." He scowled at Nicholas across the desk. "I must warn you, though. I am fond of my Emily. She is my only daughter, and I won't have you treat her as your father did your mother. He was my friend, G.o.d rest his soul, but I did not care for that."

Nicholas remembered his mother, weeping in her darkened room at Fincote Park. "No, Lord Moreby. I promise you I will never do that to Lady Emily. She will always be honoured and respected as the d.u.c.h.ess of Manning."

"Then we will have no quarrel, your Grace! Welcome to the family, may G.o.d help you." Lord Moreby pushed back from the desk, his warning obviously delivered and his business done. "Now, let's have some brandy before we go downstairs into all that wedding fol-de-rol. I have a very fine bottle I've been saving for just such an occasion."

Chapter Eleven.

"Oh, Emily, my dear! I cannot believe tomorrow is your wedding day," Emily's mother said with a sigh as she ran the silver-backed brush through Emily's hair. She had dismissed Mary for the evening, saying she would help her daughter herself.

Emily laughed. She pressed her hand over her dressing gown, where the precious emerald pendant lay against her skin. "I can't believe it myself, Mama. The days have gone so quickly." Too quickly, pa.s.sing in a blur of lace and flowers and visitors. She had seldom seen Nicholas in all the confusion, and had never been alone with him at all. Even last night, at the impromptu dinner party that had become a betrothal celebration, they had only had one stolen moment together where he kissed her cheek and asked her once more if she was quite sure.

She was not sure, of course, not in the least. But this wedding juggernaut was utterly impossible to stop. Her fate was decided and she had to make the best of it now.

In the dressing-table mirror she glimpsed her pale blue silk and white lace wedding gown, hung on the back of the wardrobe door. It fluttered a bit, as if to entice or mock her.

"You have been working so hard on all the preparations, Mama. You must be very tired."

"I am not tired in the least! In fact, I am more energised than I have been in years. My little girl is to be married, and to a duke. I knew when you were born, and I held you in my arms and saw how beautiful you are, that you were meant for great things. And I was right."

Great things? Emily doubted that. She had to learn how to be a good d.u.c.h.ess, but she was a hard worker and she was quite sure she could do it.

Her mother tied off her braid and kissed her cheek. "Come sit by me for a moment, Emily dearest. I want to speak to you about something very important."

Emily's stomach clenched. Whenever her mother had that tone in her voice, Emily knew she wouldn't like what she heard. "Oh, Mama, I am very tired, and tomorrow is such a busy day. Can it not wait?"

"No, it cannot," her mother said sternly. "This is very important. Now, come sit by me on the bed and listen to me carefully."

Emily went with her in silence, letting her mother hold on to her hand. Her fingers were very tight, pressing the emerald ring into Emily's skin.

"Now, my dear, a wife has many duties, especially a wife who is a d.u.c.h.ess," her mother said. "I have taught you to run a house properly, to dress fashionably and to remember to be charitable and kind. But there is one last, most important duty I must tell you about, as my mother did for me the night before my wedding."

Emily very much feared she knew what was coming now. "Oh, no, Mama."

"Yes." Her mother's lips pressed together grimly. "You will have your duty in the bedchamber. Now, Emily, I warn you it will not be pleasant. It will hurt, and be rather messy. You must lie back and do as your husband tells you, and it will soon be over."

"Mama!" Emily groaned. "I don't really need to know-"

"No, Emily, let me finish. There are ways to make it easier. I used to close my eyes and plan a party."

Emily stared at her mother numbly. "A party?"

"Yes. I would choose the china and the silver, and design flower arrangements and guest lists. Then I would devise a menu, and decide on my gown. By the time I knew what to serve for dessert, it was all over and I scarcely felt a thing! As a d.u.c.h.ess, you could plan very elaborate parties indeed. b.a.l.l.s, even. Manning House has a lovely ballroom."

Emily closed her eyes, trying not to shudder. She knew the rudiments of anatomy, of course; she often visited museums and galleries full of cla.s.sical nude statues. And she knew the basics of the marriage act, what went where and so forth.

But... "Mama, what exactly happens that I must fear?"

"Oh, my dear, you needn't fear! It is our natural duty, and we must bear it. The duke will show you what to do, and I am sure he will not demand anything-extra of you."

"Extra?" Emily choked out.

"Yes. You must not-touch things, or move about too much. That just makes it last longer. You are his wife, not a hired mistress. All will be well, Emily dearest, and in the end you will have beautiful babies, as I did. That will make everything worthwhile."

Emily was utterly stunned. "Is that all, Mama?" It was surely quite enough.

"Yes. Just remember-party planning. That is the key. Now, get into bed. Tomorrow is a very great day and you will need your rest! It would never do to have red eyes and a blotchy complexion for your wedding."

Emily slid under the sheets, letting her mother tuck the bedclothes around her and kiss her cheek. She blew out all the candles as she went, leaving Emily alone in the dark shadows. Her blue gown shimmered like a ghost.

She clutched at her pillow, trying to drive her mother's words out of her mind. Pain, and-and mess? It sounded appalling. She could hardly reconcile it to the pleasurable sensations she felt when Nicholas kissed her or the delight she felt when she saw a baby and imagined it as her own. How could they possibly all be part of the same process?

But maybe the kissing was meant to lull an unsuspecting woman into complacency, so she would not run away screaming from what happened next? She certainly didn't enjoy party planning enough to thoroughly distract herself.

She pulled the blankets over her head, completely frightened.

She had to escape.

Emily hurried along the street as quickly as she could without running like a hoyden. Her parents' house was filled with the bustle and noise of wedding preparations, servants rushing about to hang garlands of flowers and greenery along the banisters and over the doors and fireplaces. The heady scents of roasted meats and sugary cakes wafted up from the kitchens, and with the sweet smells of roses and lilies it made Emily lightheaded.

Her mother and Amy rushing about, giving and countermanding orders and fussing about with her hair didn't help.

So she pleaded an "urgent errand" and left to visit Sally at Mrs G.o.ddard's for an hour. She was on her way there now, and even the relative quiet of the streets after the chaos of the house made her feel steadier. It was too early in the day for many people to be out, and the air felt cool on her face.

She had almost convinced herself that all would be well in the end, that she and Nicholas would find a way to rub along together. That this wedding could be a beginning, and not a disastrous end. Then her mother's voice would echo in her mind again. "It will not be pleasant. It will hurt and be rather messy."

And all her optimism turned grey. She did want to be a good wife and do her duty, but-messy? And hurt? She couldn't quite reconcile that horridness to the delicious way she felt when Nicholas kissed her at Vauxhall.

She certainly didn't enjoy planning a party enough to help her get through anything unpleasant.

"Surely Mama must be wrong," she whispered to herself. She would ask Sally, who surely had more experience of such things and could be more helpful. But first she had to find the courage to say the words aloud.

She stopped to study a shop-window display of fabrics and feathers. One of the bolts was a rich swath of gold-shot green silk, bright and bold. It made her think of the beautiful emerald pendant Nicholas gave her. It was certainly the most exquisite thing anyone had ever given her, and not just for its value. It was as if he found a jewel to match her and her secret desires to be confident and sparkling. A d.u.c.h.ess to reckon with.

The pendant gave her a hope that she really could be that d.u.c.h.ess, that Nicholas believed in her and they could come to truly know each other.

But that would never happen if she couldn't even get through the wedding night.

Emily studied the green silk again. It was too bright for a young miss, but surely it would be just the thing for the d.u.c.h.ess of Manning. She weighed her reticule in her hand, and felt the weight of the precious coins her father had given her as she left the house. Perhaps it was enough to buy at least a small amount of the silk. It could be a sort of talisman for the future.

Or maybe imagining dressmaking, rather than party planning, would get her through The Act.

A half-hour later she stepped from the shop with a package of the silk tucked carefully under her arm- and found herself face to face with Nicholas himself. He seemed to have come from the building across the street, Gerard's Saloon for Gentlemen, where Emily had heard men of the ton engaged in the wild behaviour of swordplay and fisticuffs. Nicholas's golden hair was damp and brushed back from his face, revealing the sharp, elegant angles of his aristocratic looks. His blue eyes were narrowed, his lips turned down at the corners in a slight frown, as if he was preoccupied with his own thoughts.

Did he, too, struggle with doubts today? Somehow that thought made her feel more hopeful rather than less. Perhaps they could learn to conquer those doubts together. If she could learn to trust him, trust her own feelings-and show him he could trust her.

He looked up and saw her standing there across the street. That frown transformed into a bright smile and he waved at her.

Emily waved back, torn between wanting to see him so much and wanting to run away from that first delicate touch of tenderness in her heart. She couldn't leave, though, as he hurried towards her, dodging carriages and horses until he stood by her side.

"Lady Emily," he said, bowing over her hand. "Such a nice surprise to see you here this morning. I thought there were a thousand things to do to prepare for a wedding, or so my sisters always said."

"Oh, yes, so there are, your Grace," Emily answered. "But my mother and sister-in-law have all that well in hand. I just seemed to be in the way, so I decided to do a little shopping."

"Well, I am glad to see you, though I fear my brother would say it's ill luck to meet with the bride before the ceremony."

Emily laughed, remembering Lord Stephen's predilection for superst.i.tions. "Do you believe that?"

"I'm not so sure. I suppose we'll find out soon enough. If the wedding meal is burned or the vicar trips and falls at the altar, we'll know it's all the fault of our meeting. In the meantime, shall I see you home? My carriage is waiting just over there. Perhaps we could take a very long detour through the park on the way, and thus you would miss most of the preparations."

Emily glanced uncertainly down the street, which grew more crowded now. She remembered her plan to visit Sally and ask for her advice on the wedding night. But as Nicholas smiled at her, she began to hope it might not be so bad after all.

She had to learn to trust him, or their future could never be bright. And she had to learn to trust in her self.

"Thank you, your Grace," she said, accepting his offered arm. "A drive through the park sounds most pleasant."

Chapter Twelve.

"Will you take Nicholas to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honour and protect him, and forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"

Emily held Nicholas's hand in hers, the vicar's voice sounding far away in her ears. She felt as if she floated underwater, as if everything came to her all m.u.f.fled and distant. His clasp on her, so steady and warm, was all that held her tethered to the earth. All that was real.

Behind them sat her parents, her mother softly sniffling into her handkerchief, Rob and Amy, Jane and her parents, and Emily's deaf old Aunt Lydia.

Over Nicholas's shoulder she saw his brother, Lord Stephen, trying not to look doubtful, and his half-sister Justine and her husband Brenner, Lord Linwall. They were Nicholas's only family there, and for that she was grateful. She probably would not have been able to speak at all if they were all there, watching her, thinking her not right for their beloved brother. At least Justine had a gentle, easy air about her, a kind smile as she embraced Emily when they met. Lord Linwall seemed stern and quiet, but when he looked at his wife there was a soft, joyful light in his eyes.

Surely no one would look at her like that now. She was binding her life to the man who stood beside her, so stalwart and serious.

A sudden tense hush over the drawing room reminded her that she had not answered.

"I will," she whispered, and listened numbly as Nicholas repeated the same words, vowing to take her as his wife.

"In the presence of G.o.d and before this congregation Emily and Nicholas have given their consent and made their marriage vows to each other. They have declared their marriage by the joining of hands and by the giving and receiving of rings. I therefore proclaim that they are husband and wife. Those whom G.o.d has joined together let no one put asunder. Amen. Your Grace, you may kiss your bride."

Nicholas's hand tightened on hers and he bent his head toward her. His lips touched hers, dry and surprisingly soft. It was a kiss nothing like the heated, insane embraces they were swept into at Vauxhall and the Arnold ball. This was a gentle salute, a sealing of an official contract. A lifelong contract.

He drew away, giving her an odd little half-smile, and she was engulfed in her mother's tearful embrace.

"Oh, my dearest girl!" she said. "Such a lovely bride. Who would ever have thought I would call my own daughter her Grace the d.u.c.h.ess of Manning?"

Emily laughed. Had that not been what her mother had been hoping and working towards for months? "You have made a perfect wedding for me, Mama."

"I'm just sorry more of our friends could not see it," her mother said with a regretful sigh. "St George's would have been grand."

"Oh, Mama, only social-climbing mushrooms have large affairs at St George's," Rob said, kissing Emily's cheek. "Better to have a private ceremony."

Amy also kissed her, and fussed a bit with the wreath of white rosebuds in Emily's hair. Then she found herself embraced by Justine.

"Lady Emily, welcome to the family," she said, her soft voice ever so lightly touched with a French accent. "We shall try very hard to make you happy with us."

"We're a strange lot, but not so bad once you get to know us," said her husband. Emily remembered it had been his mother who eloped with Nicholas's father so long ago, causing such great scandal and shattering two families. Yet he seemed such a part of the family now, despite all those old wounds. How had he done that?

Maybe she could learn from him. Perhaps she could never really be one of them, fit in with them and their fun-loving ways. But she could be an exemplary d.u.c.h.ess and set a good example. Show them how hard she was willing to work to be perfect for their family name.

"Oh, I just realised!" Justine said. "We cannot call you Lady Emily now. You are the d.u.c.h.ess."

"No, just Emily, please," Emily begged. "I think it will be a long while before I accustom myself to 'd.u.c.h.ess'."

"You are quite monopolising my wife, Jussy," Nicholas interrupted, taking Emily's hand in his again.

"You will have her to yourself long enough at Welbourne," Justine said with a laugh. "I must get to know her now. Annalise and Charlotte will want a full report when I write to them. They are so desolate to miss the wedding. We thought we would never live to see this day!"

Emily had been relieved his whole family could not come on such short notice, but now she almost wished they had. They would keep Nicholas from leaving too soon for their planned honeymoon at Welbourne- and what came next. Terror and duty, according to her mother.

She noticed Lord Stephen standing by the fireplace, and she excused herself to go to him. She wasn't entirely sure why; he didn't seem to like her very much, and she was usually paralysed with shyness around such a jokester. But right now he seemed oddly wistful.

"What a lovely, quiet spot you've found, Lord Stephen," she said. "Isn't it strange how even small weddings feel like such a crush?"

He smiled at her, putting her a bit more at ease. He was not so fearsome when he smiled. "It's the weight of family expectations, d.u.c.h.ess. The whole rest of our lives pressing in on us."

d.u.c.h.ess-she was already fed up with the sound of that word, and it had only been her t.i.tle for less than an hour. "Do you think you might call me Emily?" she asked.

"Of course. You are my sister now, and you must call me just Stephen." He reached into his coat and took out a tiny box. "A small wedding gift for you-Sister."

"Oh, no! Your family has given me too much al ready." The wonderful emerald pendant from Nicholas that she wore, pearl earrings from Justine, a painting from Annalise and the ducal ruby tiara, which Nicholas said his grandmother had once worn to breakfast. It had been brought to the house under guard, and her mother wanted her to wear it for the wedding. Emily insisted on the flowers.

"It is only a small token," he said, holding out the box to her. "I'm sure you will like it more than what Charlotte is planning to send."