A Bluestocking for the Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel (The Hale Sisters Book 1)
A Bluestocking for the Duke: Chapter 3

Colin stormed down the hall, following Emma faster than she could flee him. She was much shorter than him and walked at half the speed he did.

     “Miss Hale.”

     She paused and stood, facing away from him. For a moment, Colin was fearful of what he might see if she turned around. The thoughts of her crying, laughing, or furious were all equally terrifying visuals. When she spun around to face him, he took a step back. Her expression was even. Maybe she hadn’t heard a thing.

     “I apologize,” she said. “That was very rude of me. Very manipulative.”

     Colin grimaced. She’d heard it all, in fact. “What were you doing eavesdropping on my private conversations?”

     Emma crossed her arms, her satiny white gloves catching the warm glow of the candlelight. Despite her defensive stance, her eyes looked sympathetic. “Once again. I apologize. You have been gracious enough to allow me into your home, and I took advantage of that.”

     Colin deflated, sighing. “Miss Hale, might we take a walk?”

     She closed her eyes and took a deep breath but didn’t say anything.

     Colin turned away from her because the way in which she had accepted his worst insults with such grace was enough to make him feel like the most miserable excuse for a gentleman that the world could offer. He shook his head. “Please. A short walk,” he said.

     Emma’s throat bobbed. She closed her eyes and nodded. “A short walk, Your Grace.”

     Colin nodded, thankful that she accepted his offer. He peeked his head into the drawing room from the hallway, where a maid was tidying the room. “Excuse me,” he called out. “Will you accompany us?”

     As the maid followed as a chaperone, Colin opened the front doors of the estate. The gray light from outside filtered into the dim entryway. Emma tugged her wrap tighter over her shoulders. Just as Colin expected, Lemon Drop could be heard racing down the staircase at the sound of the door. Together, the group exited the house and stepped onto the small gravel drive. To the left was a pathway that led into the gardens. The maid followed far behind, offering them enough privacy to talk freely.

     “I am sure you know I wish to marry for the financial benefit,” he said. “I should be honest, for your sake.”

     Emma nodded, her eyes fixed on the trotting dog at their side. “I am aware,” she said. “Such motives are hardly outside of the realm of normalcy. I could never condemn such an aim.”

“Of course,” he said. “I would prefer that we both be upfront about our reasons for the union.”

“My reasons?” She furrowed her brow. “I am a woman. You know what my reason is. I want to marry a kind man.”

“And I seem…kind?”

She blinked, closing her eyes for a second longer than normal. She sighed. “You certainly have the potential to be,” she said. “I should not have eavesdropped, so if I heard something I had not wanted to hear, then I am the one to blame.”

     Colin grimaced. He wasn’t sure that was entirely true. A kind man would never have insulted someone’s intelligence, even privately. A kind man never thought such things. “And do you understand my reservations with you?”

     Emma’s forehead wrinkled in an annoyed concentration. “No. I do not.”

     He shook his head. “You want a title? Is that truly all you wish for?”

     Emma looked back up at him from over her shoulder. The soft light of the afternoon illuminated the streaks of brilliant golden hair flecked throughout her otherwise brown locks. Her hair looked soft to the touch. It was true what Adam had said. It was impossible not to notice her. She was unusually beautiful, with full lips and sharp foxlike eyes. “Your Grace,” she said. “I simply wish to be married. You are more than enough to make me happy. My parents suggested the match. I trust them above all else. May we leave it there?”

     Colin swallowed hard. “Of course.” They walked down the path toward the pond flanked by a quiet grove of trees. Despite her astounding diplomacy, Colin still felt uneasy. She was lying to him. He knew it. Adam said he was overthinking it, but Colin knew exactly what he was looking at. Miss Hale, despite being more beautiful and gracious than he could ever attempt, held a mirror to him. How could he not recognize his own machinations when they were staring him down?

“I am sorry. I simply have never found myself so seriously vying for someone’s attention, let alone a capable, intelligent duke.”

Colin raised a brow. He enjoyed the compliment. He was human, after all. Something still didn’t feel right. Either she, as clever as she seemed, was completely taken by him within the first hour they’d met, or she was laying on the charm as thick as could possibly be spread. And maybe two could play that game. “That is certainly fine. I am sure I have nerves as well,” he said. “It is not very often that a woman as lovely as you arrives at my door hoping to impress me.”

“How incredibly kind,” she simpered. “You do not appear nervous in the least. Maybe you hide it well?”

He made a noise in the back of his throat. Adam could be right. Maybe Colin was imagining she was toying with him, but it was responses like that that made him feel like they’d been intellectually grappling all day.

     “I apologize if I come off as insincere or foolish. I am simply inexperienced and eager to make you happy,” she whispered.

     Colin stopped in his tracks. He scoffed, spinning to look at her. Lemon Drop stopped at their feet and settled at the base of the willow tree as if he knew the two were at an impasse. “Now that, Miss Hale, is just a bit too heavy-handed.” It was comical, in fact. Those were the words of any man’s greatest fantasies. Inexperienced and eager to please. 

     Her lips parted, and she regarded him with shock. Her lip was slightly pulled back, her eyebrows tilted up, and her sharp jawline steeled in place. “Whatever do you mean?”

     “You are lying to me. Shamelessly, might I add.” He couldn’t hide his annoyance. His chest burned and tightened at a strange desire that hit him as if suddenly he was dying of thirst, and the only thing that would quench him was the taste of her lips. The thought jolted him a step back.

     “You accuse me of lying now?” she asked. “Am I a fool or a liar? Tell me.”

     “You are no fool.” A laugh escaped him. “You know exactly what you are doing. Attempting to seduce me, yes?”

     “Seduce?” she whispered sharply. “I have never…I do not even know how to…”

     “Beginner’s luck, I am meant to believe.”

     Now it was her turn to scoff. “Your Grace, if I have given you some sort of impression that I am a temptress, you have my sincerest apologies, for the thought of being any closer to you fills me with repulsion.”

     He widened his eyes, briefly knocked back by the final drop of her facade. She had finally cracked before him. No longer polite. This was real. “There it is,” he said. “She has teeth.”

     Emma pursed her lips as if she was coming to terms with the fact that her polite demeanor had shattered so easily. Now she would have no choice but to admit her intentions to him.

     “Miss Hale,” the maid interjected from afar. “May I escort you back to your room?”

     “I am quite well,” she said, turning her attention back to Colin. “Are we not? Will we keep things civil? For the sake of your wallet?”

     “You tell me,” he said.

     She laughed, brimming with frustration. “I am not the one who spoke with such vulgarity and disrespect about my own guest. A guest who could fix my greatest problems, nonetheless. You need me. Do not act as if it is not true.”

     Colin wrinkled his nose with frustration. It was strange how the words she’d said had kicked up that desire again. It had been a long time since he’d felt it. It had been a long time since he’d even put himself in a situation where he might. You need me, she’d said, and now he started to wonder if he did. Wanting and needing were two very different things. But he did not want her, and still, the thought consumed him. “You need me too, but you refuse to tell me why.”

     The sound of footsteps on the path interrupted them. The maid ran off, presumably to get assistance. This left them alone, sheltered from the estate by a row of carefully maintained evergreens.

     Colin was hyper-vigilant now of how the frustration he felt was clouding his judgment. The thought of pulling her flush against him was now one of two thoughts fighting for attention in his head.

     “Are you pleased with yourself?” Emma hissed, watching the maid hurry away. “Now everyone will know that we have quarreled.”

     “And why should that upset you?” His gaze was intense, glazed over, punctuated by some other emotion that she couldn’t quite make out but made her even more alert.

He wasn’t the only one staring her down. Lemon Drop had joined in as if to demonstrate his loyalty. The dog didn’t trust her either. Her face reddened with ire. She felt cornered like the last unsheared sheep. She refused to be corralled that easily.

     “You were correct,” she admitted. “I wish my sister to believe this union to be a successful one. A happy one. If she doubts that, she will urge me not to marry you. But if I do not marry you, then she cannot marry the man that makes her happy.”

     The Duke didn’t respond. His eyes were dark, heavy, and weighing down on her with such heat that she felt her own body melting beneath him. Maybe she was imagining things, but it seemed the distance between them had dissolved.

     She closed her eyes, not knowing why his proximity made her body feel like a runaway horse. “And I have to. I have to. My sister’s happiness depends on this,” she said.

     He paused, leaning down. “Was that so difficult to admit?” His voice was a half whisper, and he was closing in on her, his breath hot against her temple.

     “Your Grace,” she said, attempting to stop him from coming any closer, but it was hardly any use. He was bent over, his nose brushing against her cheek. She reached out tentatively, one palm flat upon his chest. She was going to push him away, but once she felt the heat of his body, she was reluctant to let go. Slowly, she raised her other palm up, fist in a bunch, and lightly pressed it against his chest. She didn’t want him to move away, although she knew he should. She stood perfectly still every exhale from his lips wounding her self-control further.

     “You have done nothing but provoke me since your arrival,” he panted against her, drawing in the air like his lungs were bellows and she was a flame.

     “A marriage of convenience should not be as troubling as you make it.” She didn’t know exactly why she tilted her head up, but the feeling of his mouth so close to hers made her skin prickle with the heat of the summer.

     “No.” He shook his head slightly, his hand grazing her side before pulling his fingers away like the touch burnt him. “But this is not my fault. You play games with me.”

     His mouth brushed against hers, and she gasped softly, feeling his lips brief touch and softness. And just like that, he shook his head and pulled away. He gave her one more frustrated look before storming back down the path toward the estate.

     Emma placed her fingertips to her lips and looked back at them, almost as if she was expecting to see something that might indicate that they had shared such a strange encounter. Now, it was merely a memory, already turning ghostly in the late afternoon. Maybe she’d simply imagined it.

     A whine.

     Emma turned and looked down at Lemon Drop, sitting at her feet, wagging his tail. He put his front paws on her foot and balanced, angling up to look at her. She leaned down and picked him up, allowing him to sit in her arms and absorb her warmth.

     “What is your secret?” she asked.

     The dog licked her cheek in response, and she frowned. The Duke certainly had managed to have a soft spot for the dog. Maybe she could find a way into his heart. Maybe all was not lost.

     Or maybe she’d ruined her chances after all. If Harriet’s betrothed moved on, Emma would never forgive herself.

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