The Duke's Heir by Fenella J Miller

Author:Fenella J Miller [Miller, Fenella J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-10-30T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

The harsh sound of a clock striking the hour made Emily jump. She was late. How could that have happened? She quickened her steps, lifted her skirt, and ran lightly downstairs. Where was the library? The vast hall was deserted with none of the usual lurking footmen in sight. There were five routes for her to select from but she had no idea which one to take.

Frantically she searched for a bell-cord in order to summon assistance but found none. Then she had an inspired notion; she would open the front door and knock loudly on it; that would surely bring the supercilious Penfold out of hiding.

Pleased with her scheme she turned the heavy knob and stepped out into the morning sunshine. The trees were so lovely in their autumn colours that she became distracted and released her hold on the door. It swung shut with an ominous clunk. She spun round too late, the door was firmly closed. She lifted the heavy brass knocker, banged it and waited expectantly. There was no sound of footsteps hurrying to her summons. She banged again, with such force that she hurt her hand. Yesterday the place had been overrun with staff. Where were they all today?

She decided to abandon the front door and search for another entrance and was breathless, the hem of her dress limp and dusty, by the time she finally found a side door that opened. She burst in, startling two parlourmaids about their duties.

‘Thank heavens! I have found someone. Please could you direct me to the library?’

The younger girl recovered first. ‘Yes, miss, if you would care to follow me.’

Emily was late, very late. Her hair was escaping from its pins and the hem of her dress was mired but there was no time to remedy the situation.

*

Sebastian was glaring out across the park; his cousin was late and he did not like to be kept waiting. The sound of her hurrying footsteps alerted him. He turned, and stood, legs slightly apart, arms rigidly beside him, by the window.

‘Miss Gibson, my lord.’ The maid, duty done, disappeared. Emily feared the girl had noted Yardley’s expression and her appearance. Both would be described in detail to the rest of the staff when the servants sat down for supper that night.

Emily curtsied and as her eyes dropped she saw the appalling state of her dress. Her spirits sunk even lower. This was not an auspicious start. She raised her head and shrivelled under the icy stare of her future husband. Where was the friendly man she had just been out riding with?

There was an interminable silence; she did not speak, she felt too ill. Eventually she recovered her composure. ‘I must apologise for keeping you waiting, sir.’ She was about to explain why she was late but he forestalled her. She noticed that there appeared to be something wrong with his breathing.

‘For God’s sake, sit down, Cousin Emily and let us get this farce completed.’

Every instinct told her to flee from this formidable man, but her feet refused to move.

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