Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

“ D o you often play chess alone?” Miss Pembleton asked him, her eyes on the pieces of the board.

“Sometimes.” Luke answered. “Do you?”

“Play chess alone? Occasionally, but I like the unpredictability that comes from playing with an opponent.”

“You think opponents are unpredictable?” Luke asked, glancing at his book and moving his pawn accordingly.

“Yes and no. Once you know a person well enough, you understand their playing style. Their little tics and habits, and you can use that to your advantage.” Miss Pembleton gestured at him and then at the board, as if to illustrate her point.

Luke smiled and said teasingly. “That is rather Machiavellian of you.”

“Is it?” Miss Pembleton looked at him, a crease forming between her brows.

“I would say so.” Luke moved another piece.

“I just think of it as part of strategy. After all, if one is to win surely they should use every advantage they have?” Miss Pembleton met his gaze.

Luke raised an eyebrow. “As I said, a rather Machiavellian outlook.”

A faint flush crept across Miss Pembleton’s cheeks and she glanced away from him. There was a beat of silence before she asked, “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well, what is your approach to winning?”

“Are you trying to learn my weaknesses so that you might exploit them Miss Pembleton?” Luke tried to keep his tone light and teasing, but it came out rather more sincerely than he had meant.

In spite of this she smiled, mischief in her eyes. “Perhaps I am simply trying to make conversation.”

“I thought we were here to play, not to converse.” Luke gestured to the table.

“Can we not do both?” Miss Pembleton sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “May I be frank?”

“Are you ever anything else?” Luke asked.

“I am trying to be polite.” Miss Pembleton shot him a look, and then shook her head. “You do not know me, and I do not know you. My sisters think that your brother and I are well suited, and I would like to get to know him. But it is clear you do not share their view.”

“Does it matter what I think?” Luke canted his head towards her. Why should she care what I think?

“You know it does. Lord Baine thinks most highly of you. He would not marry someone you disapproved of.” Miss Pembleton chewed on her lip. “And you seem very invested in his choice of wife. Why is that?”

“Is my interest in my brother of particular importance?” Luke countered, Miss Pembleton’s directness catching him off guard.

“Not really, but I am curious about it. I do not know many people who are overly invested in the marriage of a second son, particularly when they themselves are not married.” Miss Pembleton tapped a finger against her bottom lip, a slight challenge in her voice.

“That is their business.” Luke said stiffly.

“You still have not answered my question.”

“Perhaps I do not understand it.”

“Or you are avoiding it.”

“Or I have no wish to answer.” Luke tried to keep his voice light and unaffected, but felt his chest squeeze.

“How about this? An exchange. For each question I ask of you, you may ask me one in return.” Miss Pembleton gave him a knowing look as she added. “I am sure you have many more questions you wish to ask of your brother’s potential bride. It would not surprise me if you had a list.”

Luke did in fact have a list, but he was not about to admit that. Sighing, he moved his pawn, referring to his book to ensure the placement was correct. Miss Pembleton moved her knight, and as Luke checked the book, he was surprised and impressed to see she had moved it exactly as the book suggested.

She really does have a most strategic mind. And must have a most impressive memory. “Very well. I accept your terms.”

“Shall we shake hands?” Miss Pembleton’s eyes glittered as she smiled at him.

“I do not think that would be proper or necessary.” Luke began and then he saw the smile on her face “Oh, you were joking?”

“I was.” Miss Pembleton admitted, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she moved her bishop and captured his knight.

“What would you have done if I had said yes?” Luke canted his head towards her.

Miss Pembleton made a non committal noise, gesturing for him to make his own move. “I would have been surprised, but I would have done it. I do not see the harm in a handshake.”

“Of course you do not.” Luke sighed and glanced at his book, double checking that all the pieces were where they should be. “Do you still wish to know why Rodger is so dear to me?”

“I do.” Miss Pembleton nodded.

Luke ran a hand through his hair, wondering how he could explain it. How much do I wish to tell her? I cannot tell her all of it, but some of the truth cannot hurt. “I came into my inheritance when I was thirteen. Rodger was only ten, and he had led a more sheltered life. He was still full of joy and optimism, and though our parents’ deaths hurt him, I could not bear to see that wonderous attitude end.”

He moved another piece on the board, frowning as Emily moved her own. “I looked after him and guided him. When he was scared I was there to comfort him. When he wanted to explore philosophy I encouraged him, even though I find the discipline frightfully dull.”

“You do not share his love of Kant then?” Miss Pembleton’s voice was teasing.

He found himself smiling wryly at her. “No, but I have learned what I need for him. And I have done what I can to protect him from the pressure of our family name.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Ours is the oldest Duchy in the land. The line can be traced further back than our current monarchs. That means something, to me, to my parents. Rodger may be the second son, but he has a natural talent for almost everything he does. He understands things instinctively, he is optimistic and caring.” He is better than I could ever be. Luke swallowed. “And I would see no harm comes to him.”

“So you protect him, because you see him as all that is good?” Miss Pembleton’s eyes widened and she nodded to herself.

“I do. Is that not something to be protected?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“It is. Though it is a surprisingly romantic notion, I must confess.” She flashed him a grin, and then claimed his castle with her queen.

She had a knack for planning, for seeing and mapping out each move. After all, she was recreating his game without the same reference that he held. It was fascinating to see.

He shook himself as he returned to the task at hand. “And now it is my turn to ask a question.”

“Technically you already have asked a question, but I will be benevolent and allow you another.” She inclined her head, mischief dancing in her eyes once more.

“How gracious of you.”

“You will find that I am rather a gracious person.”

“Very well. What books have you read recently?” he asked as he moved a pawn.

“A little of this, a little of that.” She replied, frowning slightly before she made her own move.

Luke raised an eyebrow at her. “That is hardly an answer.”

There was a faint flush to her cheeks, and Luke thought he saw a tension in her shoulders but it was gone too fast for him to be sure. “Very well, in truth I have not read much of anything recently. I have only heard snippets of things read aloud at parties.”

“Why?” he asked.

“That is another question, and it is my turn.” She countered.

“Fine. Ask your question.” He gestured to her.

“What is it you enjoy about chess?” she asked.

“I like the strategy. But more than that, I enjoy the way in which there are so many possibilities and yet there is always a better move to make.” He paused, drumming his fingers against his lips as he tried to articulate what it was that drew him to the game. “For me, it is less about winning, and more the beauty of the game itself.”

“Then you would not mind if you lost?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he heard genuine curiosity in her voice.

“Not if I lost to a game played beautifully. I do not think I am as competitive as you are.” He smiled at her.

“I am not competitive.” She pouted.

“Are you not?” He gave her a frank look.

She looked away and tucked the same errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, maybe a little. What would be a beautiful game?”

“I believe that is three questions, Miss Pembleton. And now it is my turn.” Luke grinned, and moved his queen to take her bishop.

“Very well.” Miss Pembleton tapped her fingers on the table, her eyes closed as if trying to remember something.

“Why have you not read anything recently?” he asked, watching her as he did so.

She hesitated a moment, and her voice seemed clipped as she said, “I have been doing other things. Honing my skills and such. I have been embroidering a lot, and will have my maid read to me on occasion as my hands are busy.”

“And what has she read to you?” Luke frowned.

“Well it is important I find books that are of an acceptable level, so nothing I suspect that you would enjoy.”

“Perhaps I will surprise you.”

“Just the occasional novels.”

“Novels? And do you have a favourite author?” Luke watched as she studied the board again, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Not especially. For me it is more about the story than any particular story teller.” Miss Pembleton answered.

“And what do you think makes a good story?” Luke glanced back at the board.

“Something that holds someone’s interest. And now I believe it is my turn to ask you a question. Check, by the way.” She leaned back, gesturing to the move she had suggested to him earlier.

“Actually, I believe it is checkmate.” Luke moved his knight into position. “I told you that your move would not work.”

“That does not prove that yours would.” She retorted, and he could tell that she was frustrated at the loss.

“Well, let us play again and see.” He replied, resetting the board. “What do you think of Byron?”

“I am fairly certain it is my turn to ask a question. Several in fact.”

“Fine.”

They continued their back and forth, each questioning one another as the game unfolded. Her mind seemed to hop from one subject to another, asking about family pets and then about favourite music and then about whether he preferred the autumn or the winter.

At first he thought it was because she was trying to distract him, but as they talked he found himself relaxing more into the conversation.

“Do you really think that musicians and such are vain if they put their emotions in their music?”

“What?”

“It was something you said. I wanted to know if you truly felt that way.”

Luke paused. His parents’ words on the subject filled his mind. Emotions are the height of vanity. “I do not know. It is something my parents often said, but in truth, I do not know if it is how I feel.”

“Perhaps you should take some time to uncover the truth of your own feelings.” Miss Pembleton moved her piece as he had suggested.

“Perhaps I will. Indulgent as it might seem.” Luke grimaced. My father would hate such a thing.

“I think it is necessary to indulge sometimes. Oh, bother.” Miss Pembleton looked at the board and scowled.

“What?” Luke asked glancing at the pieces before them.

“You were right. I am going to lose.” She glanced at the clock. “I should probably take my leave of you and get changed for dinner.”

“Of course.” Luke stood up. “You play rather well, you know.”

“Thank you.” Miss Pembleton smiled at him, a genuine smile.

“You have an excellent mind for strategy, but you let yourself down by your lack of theory.” He handed her the book he had been reading.

“Do you not wish to practice more?” she made to give him back the book, but he waved her away.

He said, “I can do so when you are finished with it. I suspect that with that knowledge you could play a truly beautiful game.”

“Beautiful enough that you would enjoy losing?” She was teasing him.

“Perhaps.” Luke replied.

“I suppose we shall just have to wait and see.”

“We shall indeed.”

“Goodbye, your Grace.” Miss Pembleton curtsied to him.

“Goodbye, Miss Pembleton.” He watched her go, and as he did, he could not help but realise he was looking forward to their next game.