Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

“ A nd what are your thoughts on the subject, Miss Pembleton?” Luke asked, nodding at Emily.

They were in the gardens of the castle with Rodger and Marie. It was a few days after their breakthrough with the music, and Luke was pleased at the progress they were making. They had even started reading a novel together.

The sun was high in the sky, and Emily had proposed a promenade and a picnic, inviting Marie so that she would not be alone with two men.

“On what?” Emily asked.

“On the novel Lady Marie mentioned.” Luke explained as he gestured to Marie.

“The mysteries of Udolpho.” Marie added for clarity, before she looked at Rodger. “Lord Baine was making a rather interesting point about the way in which themes of the unknown and mystery parallel to the Platonic concepts of knowledge and knowing.”

Rodger nodded excitedly. “Exactly. And Lady Marie, made the interesting comparison between Platonic notions of the aesthetic and Kantian theories on morality.”

Luke found himself exchanging a look with Emily, each looking away hastily and smiling. “And what do you think, Miss Pembleton?”

They had started reading bits of the book the night before, with Luke helping read sections and Emily repeating. Ever since they had worked out the trick with music, her progress had been impressive. Even if she does need to hum a little to herself when she gets stuck.

“I would not be able to speak to the more philosophical elements of the novel, but I am enjoying what I have read so far. I am surprised you have read the novel. After all, it is rather improper.” Emily smiled at him, and Luke felt the warmth of it as though it were a physical touch.

Luke could hear both the excitement and the mischief in her voice. After all, no one was supposed to know he was teaching her how to read. How long has it been since she has been able to join in a conversation about books and say something meaningful.

He found himself smiling back, trying his best to ignore the feeling that they were sharing some private joke between them. He supposed that in a way they were.

You are being ridiculous, she is supposed to be marrying Rodger. He shook his head. “My brother enjoys it, and I find it useful to have something to talk about.”

Emily raised an eyebrow at him. “And you do not enjoy it?”

Luke made a vague motion with his hand, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I will admit it has some merits.”

“Such as?” Emily asked.

“Why not tell me your thoughts first, and then I shall share mine.” Luke inclined his head, mischief in his eyes as he said, “After all, I did ask first.”

“And I suppose I must answer then, it is only proper.” Emily’s voice was teasing.

Luke only just managed to stop himself smiling as he said, “Indeed, and yet here you are, avoiding the question still.”

“Perhaps it is simply that you are impatient for my answer.” She retorted, her eyes dancing in the sunlight.

“A bold supposition when you have still not answered the question.” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Very well, Duke Impatience. In truth, I have not yet finished it, but I do have some thoughts on the earlier sections.” Emily coloured slightly, but he could hear a faint note of pride in her voice. “Namely, that I rather enjoy Valancourt, his generosity is something to behold. I do not think I care much for Madame Cheron though.”

He sighed. “Of course, you would be drawn to Valancourt.”

“What is there not to like? He is generous and interesting. And it is clear he cares a great deal for Emily.” Her cheeks coloured even more. “I will admit it is rather odd to share a name with a character so unlike myself.”

Luke asked, knowing exactly what she would say. “You think you are very different then?”

Emily made a face and gave him a flat look. “This Emily is obsessed with morality and propriety. She is almost blindly obedient.”

“Some might say that is a virtue. Besides, I think there is some similarity between the two of you.” He grinned at her.

“Really?” a crease appeared on her brow as she looked at him.

“Of course, your deep appreciation of nature for one thing.” Luke laughed softly, catching a slight movement in Emily that made him suspect that she would have thrown something at him had she had anything to hand. I should be grateful that one of the servants is carrying the picnic basket.

“You are lucky I have no scones to hand.” Emily muttered, but her glower was undermined by the small smile on her face. “I suppose it is true that we both have a deep love and appreciation for nature. But I do not spend my time writing poems about it.”

Not yet. Luke was fairly certain he could hear a degree of wistfulness in her voice as she said it. “Perhaps you need to spend more time amongst it, to inspire such things.”

Emily shrugged, her arms wrapping around herself. “I do not think I will ever be the kind of person who writes poems about nature. Besides, why write about something when you could simply be in it?”

“Because we cannot always be in nature.” Luke explained. You can do anything you set your mind to.

He bit back the words. He knew he should not say them. What is wrong with me? Why did it hurt him to see her think so little of herself? What did it matter to him whether or not she could see how much she had to offer. Stop it, she is hardly the bastion of perfection.

Emily canted her head towards him. “Why not?”

Luke shrugged and gestured around them, feeling as though they had ventured into safer territory. “I do not know if you have realised, but we do live in England, and the weather does leave rather something to be desired.”

“There is no such thing as bad weather, simply poor preparation.” Emily made a dismissive motion with her hand.

“That assumes you will always know what the weather is.” Luke said.

“Or that you are observant enough to note the colour of the sky.” Emily gestured to the sky above them.

Luke laughed softly. “Yet weather can be a rather fickle thing. One moment beautiful and the other you are caught in a downpour.”

“Is that not part of the fun?” Emily laughed. “Or do you wish everything to be utterly predictable?”

“Perhaps I simply enjoy being comfortable. After all, it is rather more enjoyable to view nature from the comfort and warmth of a roaring fire.” Luke replied.

Emily nodded, running a finger across her lips thoughtfully. “I suppose there is some truth to that.”

“Besides, writing can be just as moving as nature itself. There is an entire cohort of people demonstrating that.” Luke pointed out, thinking of the many romantic writers that the ton seemed obsessed with.

“I do not think that is true.” Emily frowned at him.

Luke gave her a frank look. “Then you are not moved by Radcliffe’s descriptions of the countryside?”

“Of course I am, I daresay the book would not hold my attention otherwise.” Emily shook her head. “And now, I think it is your turn to tell me what merits you think the novel holds.”

“I think that like many romantic writers, she perfectly captures the beauty of the natural world. Her prose evokes the colours of an autumnal evening perfectly.” Luke avoided Emily’s gaze, thinking of how they had played the notes of the colours of each other’s autumns to each other the night before. “The characters are interesting, though I would not say that Valancourt’s generosity outweighs his impropriety.”

“Of course you would not. I expect Emily is your favourite character.” Emily’s cheeks flushed, her eyes widening as though she realised what she was saying, and Luke stifled a laugh as she hastily added, “I mean only that you no doubt admire her strong morality and sense of propriety.”

“I do indeed. You have not yet reached the final part of the novel but it will be interesting to see what you think.” To his surprise, Luke found he genuinely meant it.

“I look forward to sharing my thoughts with you.” Emily said, a look crossing her face that Luke could not quite place. “Though I am not sure I will finish it before the fortnight ends. Especially not with all the preparations for the ball. And I doubt we will have a chance to speak on it even if I do.”

“Ah yes, I have rarely found that a ball is conducive to discussing works of literary merit.” Luke felt a pang of loss in his chest and unbidden the image of Rodger and Emily dancing rose in his mind. That is what one is supposed to do. “Perhaps you will have to write to me with them.”

“Would you like that?” Emily asked, an odd tightness in her voice.

Was that hope? Fear? Before Luke could say anything else, Rodger’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“It looks like it’s going to rain.” His brother gestured to the darkening sky.

Luke managed not to jump, he had almost forgotten that his brother and Lady Marie were with them. I was too caught up in my own conversation. Some part of him knew he should be encouraging his brother to talk more to Miss Pembleton, but surely it was a good thing that he and the young woman were on more cordial terms?

It will make it easier if they marry. He felt a peculiar roil in his stomach at the thought and pushed it away. Frowning at it.

Lady Marie was saying, looking up at the sky. “Perhaps it would be best to return to the castle?”

His brother nodded excitedly. “Then I can show you the quote and prove that you are mistaken.”

Lady Marie shook her head, a wide smile on her face. “I think you will find Lord Baine, that I will be proved correct.”

The two of them turned around and began to make their way back towards the castle, leaving Luke and Emily standing alone together.

“Well, I suppose we should join them.” Emily murmured glancing from the sky to Luke.

He felt a tug of reluctance at the thought of returning to the castle and found himself saying, “You do not feel like continuing? I thought you said there was no such thing as bad weather.”

Emily laughed, but he noticed a tightness to her expression. “I said there was no such thing as bad weather if one is prepared enough, and I am not prepared for rain.”

“I suppose not.” Luke agreed.

“Lucy will be furious with me if I get this dress wet. It will take an age to dry again and it is one of my newer ones. Besides, with this much fabric, getting caught in a downpour would be most uncomfortable.” Emily shuddered.

“Well, we should avoid that travesty then.” Luke gestured to the sky.

“I am surprised you care so much for my discomfort.” Emily teased him, and for a moment Luke thought she would gently prod him, as she did when they were studying together.

A mix of panic and anticipation flared in him, but she simply laughed. “Maybe I simply do not relish the thought of you being told off.”

“And yet you do so most regularly.” She said.

Luke frowned. “It would be rather improper for me to tell you off.”

“It seems I would make you behave rather improperly.” Emily said, though her words seemed to hold some unspoken question.

I will show you how improper I can be. His words sprang into his mind. They had not spoken of the ride, not in any detail. She was delirious. No doubt she does not remember any of it.

Some part of him wanted to ask, but he stopped himself. “Apparently so.”

He stopped walking, the thought of that day filling him with a pacing energy. Emily noticed that he had dropped behind and turned to him.

“Are you coming?” she asked.

He shook his head, swallowing – his throat suddenly dry. “I am feeling rather restless. I will leave you to return to the castle alone.”

Luke was sure he saw a flash of disappointment cross Emily’s face, but it was gone so fast he convinced himself that it was only in his imagination. “As you wish. Good bye, your Grace.”

“Good bye, Miss Pembleton.” He inclined his head.

As Emily disappeared into the distance, he turned and walked away. Raindrops began to fall, but he did not turn back. Instead, he found himself wishing they could wash whatever was happening away. I am giving into fancy, there is nothing happening.

How could anything be happening? She was to be his brother’s intended – not his. They were friends, nothing more. Neither of us wants anything else.