“I suppose I forget because I have such a tight circle of friends,” he explained. “The 1797 Club.”
She blinked. “The 1797 Club? I’m not aware of it.”
“It is incredibly exclusive,” he said, motioning her to a bench that overlooked the fountain in the middle of the garden. She took a place and he sat beside her, suddenly aware of how close their knees were as he spoke.
“So exclusive that it feels like family?” she asked, seemingly oblivious to his thoughts.
“They are my brothers. We formed the little group when we were boys.”
“In 1797,” she teased. “At the ripe old age of…what? Twelve?”
“Fourteen,” he corrected with a nod. “You see, I needed help as I moved toward inheritance of my dukedom. And we formed a group of all of us who would take that same level of title so we could assist each other.”
“And how many are you?” she asked.
“Ten, including myself,” he said.
She smiled once more, this time gentle and understanding. “Then you have a very large family after all. And that is a lucky and rare thing.”
“Yes.”
“Is the Duke of Northfield one of those in your group?” she asked.
“He and the Duke of Crestwood were my closest friends as a boy. Together we came up with the idea of the club and it grew over the years that followed.”
“And now Northfield will marry Meg,” she said. “And become your brother in truth.”
“Yes. I admit that was part of the draw of matching them,” he said.
“But everyone saysyouwill never marry. Of course, likely I won’t either. But for different reasons. Yours is a choice and mine—”
With a gasp, she stopped talking. Her eyes went wide and she slapped a hand over her mouth, her gaze flitting over to him and going wide and wild.
Emma wanted nothing more than to sink down under the bench where they sat and disappear for the rest of her life. She had no idea why she had lost control of her tongue. She and Abernathe had been sitting together, having a perfectly lovely conversation. Comfortable, aside from the fact that she couldn’t stop contemplating how utterly handsome he was.
And then she’d gone and burst out something inappropriate about his lack of desire for marriage. About her own lack of ability to marry. She was an absolute idiot.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she said when she could find enough breath to speak. “That was entirely out of turn.”
He was quiet a moment, then he said, “Emma, we were having an honest conversation. I don’t mind having an honest conversation with you. But you cannot truly believe that you will never marry.”
She pushed to her feet and walked toward the fountain, her hands clenched at her sides. “This is really none of your concern. I forgot myself for a moment. There is nothing else to say.”
He followed her forward. “Emma.”
She stiffened. That was the third time he’d called her by her given name. She shouldn’t like it so much. Sheshouldcorrect him.
She opened her mouth to do so when he pierced her with a hard look and asked, “Why do you think you will never marry?”
She gasped for air, for words, and he reached out. Suddenly he had her hand in his. She wasn’t wearing gloves, having taken them off for lunch. Neither was he. His skin was rough on hers, his hand a shade darker as it engulfed her own.
“Not everyone is golden,” she whispered, her voice almost not her own. Her words coming when she didn’t want them to. “I am an old maid, with little to recommend me thanks to…” She trailed off.
“Thanks to?” he encouraged, his dark eyes still intently focused on her. Like he actually gave a damn about the answer.
And for a moment she pondered giving it to him. Pondered spilling out every painful fact of her past and her own fractured family to him. But she caught herself before she could. Whatever spell she was under with this man, she wasn’t about to talk about her father with him and give him a reason to laugh at her.
“I’m a spinster and a wallflower,” she said, pulling her hand away from his at last and wishing she couldn’t still feel the warmth of it. “There is no other reason than that which precludes many women like me from marrying. My mother insists I must wed, of course, to increase our circumstances. She drives me toward it constantly. But it isn’t as easy as just waving my hand and having men fall at my feet.”
