Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

“ I do not understand how someone so willing to fight me, seems unwilling to take on someone like the Marquess.” Luke exclaimed the next day as he walked with Rodger along the corridor towards one of the drawing rooms.

“Perhaps she enjoys fighting you.” Rodger said.

Luke gave him an unimpressed look. “It is not the time for joking.”

Rodger muttered something Luke could not catch and then said, “Brother, she told you herself, if she revealed the truth, the Marquess would probably take some other revenge. Her father is a Viscount, she does not have a lot of protection.

I will protect her . Luke stopped himself from saying the words. He had no business protecting her. Society should do that, especially once she revealed the truth.

“It makes no sense. It would be so easy to do. She could write some letters in front of people – I am sure we would see that her writing looks nothing like the letters.” Luke frowned. “She has not even read the things.”

“Would you want to read them?” Rodger raised an eyebrow. “They are truly horrible things.”

“Knowledge is power, brother. If you know what the evidence is, then it is far easier to refute it. To prove a falsehood and clear your name.”

“Yes, but women are more sensitive. Perhaps it was simply too much for her?” Rodger offered.

Luke tried not to gape at his brother. Too sensitive – as though she is some blushing wallflower, truly my brother is blind to the truth of her. “Whatever the reason, it makes no sense to me.”

“I do not see why it matters.” Rodger replied. “You know that the letters are not hers, so the rumours are untrue.”

“Some of them are yes, but it is worrying that she seems satisfied to let things lie.” Luke ran a hand through his hair, puzzling at the situation.

“Perhaps she is hoping the less she engages with it, the more quickly everything will die down.” Rodger said reasonably as they reached the drawing room.

“Perhaps.” Luke murmured but before he could say anything else, Emily walked into the room with her maid.

Their eyes met and she inclined her head, a fire in her eyes that made him think of their argument the night before.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace, Lord Baine.” She smiled at Rodger.

“It is good to see you, Miss Pembleton. I trust you are feeling well?” Rodger asked.

“Much better than I was, thank you for asking.” She replied.

“I am sorry not to have been more help.” Rodger blushed. “I am afraid I was rather useless.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. It is not your fault.” Emily – Miss Pembleton, Luke chided himself – shook her head.

“That is what Lady Marie said.”

“And she is right.”

“That reminds me, I meant to get back my copy of the symposium from her so that I could lend it to you. I thought it would be nice for you to have something to read during your recovery.”

“Ah! That must have been why she was asking after you when I passed her just now.” Miss Pembleton gestured behind her. “I think you will still be able to catch her, she was heading to the Western library.”

“Excellent. And then I shall be able to lend you the book. It really is a wonderful translation.” Rodger inclined his head towards her and then left without another word.

Luke sighed. “I apologise for his lack of manners. The symposium is one of his favourite works.”

“You need not apologise. His excitement is endearing.” She replied coolly. “And I for one, do not expect flawlessness.”

“Or even courtesy.” Luke countered.

Emily gave him a flat look as her maid retreated further into the room. “Is it not courteous to wish to lend me a book to read?”

“You told me you hate reading.” Luke murmured, glancing at the maid.

Propriety would not allow them to be alone together, and he had allowed that to slip last night. I was too distracted. He had no desire for anyone to think anything untoward might have happened.

She raised an eyebrow at him, folding her arms across her chest. “And you told me you only learned philosophy for your brother. Is it not possible I might do the same?”

Before Luke could say anything else, Lord Arthur appeared at the door, his hair a mess as he almost collided with his aunt. Without thinking, Luke intercepted him, not wanting him to knock her down in his exuberance.

“I am sorry, your grace.” Lord Arthur panted.

“That is quite all right. I know you meant no harm.” Luke moved away from the boy. “You seem to be in rather a hurry though.”

“I was hiding from my mother.” Lord Arthur explained.

“And why exactly are you hiding from Rose, Arty?” Emily arched an eyebrow at her nephew. “What trouble have you been causing?”

“Aunty Emily!” Lord Arthur exclaimed, moving towards her. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“And now you have found me.” She beamed at the boy, all the tension from the moment before fading into softness and warmth.

“I was wondering if you might read to me a little?” he asked, holding up a book hopefully.

If Luke had not been watching Emily – Miss Pembleton’s – face at that moment, he would have missed it. Hesitation flashed across it as the boy made his request. Luke frowned.

“I… What if I told you a story instead? Have I ever told you the tale of the lion and the mouse?” Emily smiled at her nephew.

“A hundred times!” Lord Arthur shook his head, pouting as he looked at his aunt. “And the one about the rabbit and the mouse, and the falcon. And practically a million others.”

“Perhaps I could make up a new one then, if you would like a story.” She offered and though her voice was light and encouraging, Luke could see the tension in her shoulders.

She seems afraid. That made no sense. What did she fear?

Lord Arthur held up the book again. “But I want to read this one. Please, you do the best voices when you tell stories. I bet you would do the voice of Guinevere amazingly!”

“Arthur, there you are.” Duchess Emberly appeared at the door, her face flushed and looking harried. “I told you that your aunt needs her rest. She needs to recover.”

“I only wanted her to read me a story.” Lord Arthur whined. “It is just a little reading.”

“I told you I would read to you.” Duchess Emberly murmured.

“But Aunty Emily does the best voices!” Lord Arthur insisted.

Luke glanced at Emily, whose smile seemed tighter than it had been. Her fist clenched and unclenched, and she was tapping her foot. She is nervous.

The Duchess sighed. “And Aunty Emily has had a fall, and needs to save her strength.”

“What if she sat down? That would not be so tiring!” Lord Arthur’s face lit up.

Luke glanced from the boy to his aunt, frowning slightly. Emily was wringing her hands and shaking her head.

She gave her nephew an apologetic look. “I am feeling a little tired, Arty.”

“But you said you would tell me a story a moment ago. Surely that is more tiring than reading?” Lord Arthur frowned

“I-” Emily began, her eyes widening but her sister interjected.

“Enough, Arthur. Your aunt is tired, maybe she will read to you another day.”

“Exactly. We can do it another day.” Emily nodded and smiled at her nephew. “But I think I need to sit down for now.”

Luke watched as she moved away, and saw her shoulders sag. Something began to tug at his mind. Why would you not clear your name? Her excuse had made sense. But it felt lacking. I hate reading.

“You see? Now, come with me and let us let Emily rest.” Duchess Emberly took her son’s hand in hers and pulled him from the room.

His voice trailed off as he disappeared down the hall with his mother. But his words had struck something in Luke. Suddenly pieces clicked into place in his mind.

I have never seen her read, not once. She had always elected to tell a made up story or to change the topic whenever such things came up. Or insist she was tired. Most everyone else had read a passage from a book.

“When was the last time you read to him?” Luke found himself asking as he moved towards her.

“Pardon?” Emily raised an eyebrow at him.

“He seems to think you make up stories, rather than read to him.” Luke gestured after the boy.

“I have a rather active imagination. I like to tell stories.” She shrugged. “What does it matter?”

“I suppose it does not. Only… Well, it seems a little curious.” Luke shrugged.

“Does it?” she replied, and Luke was certain he heard an edge of worry in her voice.

“And you do not read when we are all together in the parlour.” Luke pointed out, ignoring her question.

“I do not like reading in front of a crowd.” Emily made a dismissive gesture, but Luke could see the fear in her eyes. “I get terribly shy and nervous.”

“But you are happy enough to play music. Or at least you were before all this unpleasantness with the Marquess.” He pointed out. “I have heard your sisters praise your various performances.”

“Reading is different.” Emily replied.

“Why?” Luke’s voice was soft.

“Because reading is not the same as playing music.” Emily said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“But you have to read music to play it.” And then Luke remembered her sisters talking about her talent.

She only has to hear a piece once to be able to play it. “Come to think of it, I do not think I have even seen you read any music. And from what I have heard of your skill, I would have thought you read much of it.” Luke moved closer to her.

“You have barely seen me play.” Emily countered.

Luke looked at her and shook his head. “No, I have not. No doubt because of this business with the Marquess. But from everything I have heard of you and much of what you have said, it is clear that music means a great deal to you.”

“So?” Emily frowned.

“It begs the question. If the rumours that have spread from the Marquess are affecting your confidence in your playing, why would you not have cleared your name? No doubt, you know some of what the rumours say, if not the exact content of the letters.” Luke gestured around them.

“Perhaps I did not want to read the vile things because it would hurt too much.” Emily insisted.

Luke arched an eyebrow at her. “Why have you not cleared your name?”

“I told you why.” Emily frowned at him.

“I do not believe you.” Luke replied.

“I do not care what you believe.” She retorted.

The reason she would not clear her name. She was not afraid of what the Marquess would do, she simply was not capable of doing it. Luke was sure of it.

She was not slighting me at charades, she simply was not reading. He looked at the woman sitting on the sofa and strode towards her, grabbing a book as he did so.

Luke sat across from her and glanced around. It was only the maid. He looked at Emily.

“I think I know the reason.” He murmured. “I know your secret.”

Her eyes went wide. “What do you mean?”

He took a breath and said, “You cannot read.”

Her face told him the truth.