A Regency Duchess's Awakening. Amanda McCabe

that she had to get away and shake free of that sudden, unaccountable anger. It made her feel ridiculously out of control.

      She found herself near the Serpentine, its banks lined with yet more people, laughing, talking, seemingly so very pleasant and light-hearted. Underneath, though, Emily knew they were always watching, always— judging.

      She walked on at a slower pace, making herself smile politely. Jane and Mr Rayburn followed her, still chattering together about that blasted ball.

      In the distance, just at the edge of the clearing near the river, Emily glimpsed the Duke of Manning himself, seated on a white horse that contrasted dramatically with his well-cut dark blue coat and fine doeskin breeches. She stopped short, nearly tripping yet again as she stared in sudden dazzlement.

      She just couldn’t seem to help herself. It was as if all the light of the day gathered directly on him, and he was all shimmering gold.

      She remembered myths of Apollo, called “Ever Bright” by the Muses, and she was sure this was what they meant. Despite the swirling crowds, he appeared to be alone in a glowing pool of serenity and light. He wore no hat, and his golden hair was windblown, falling over his brow and the collar of his fine coat. He held the reins lightly in one gloved hand, answering greetings with a faint smile on his face.

      It was almost as if he was bemused to find himself in such a cacophonous scene.

      “Whatever is Manning doing here?” she heard Mr Rayburn say behind her. “No one in his family ever deigns to come among the crowds here.”

      Emily could not blame him for that. If she was a duchess, she would never do what she didn’t want to, either. But why was he here? She had never seen him in the park before.

      “Should we say hello to him?” Jane asked. She sounded uncharacteristically indecisive. Jane always seemed to know exactly what she should do.

      “And stand in line with everyone else eager to pay court? I don’t think so,” Mr Rayburn said dismissively. He took Jane’s arm and the two of them turned away. “I thought we were going to walk. Lady Emily?”

      “Yes, of course,” Emily said. She started to turn away, as well, to follow them back down the path. To her astonishment, though, the duke caught sight of her and smiled.

      He tugged on his horse’s reins and headed straight toward her.

      “My goodness ! The Duke of Manning is coming here,” Jane cried.

      “So he is,” Mr Rayburn muttered. Emily looked back at him just in time to catch a glimpse of a frown on his face, before it was covered in his usual sociable, practised smile. It seemed perhaps he did not much care for the Duke of Manning.

      Emily wondered if he knew something the rest of society did not. Otherwise she could not account for such a reaction. What could it be?

      “I think—oh, my!” Jane said. “I think he means to talk to us.”

      And indeed he did. He reined in his horse right next to Emily and politely nodded to her, smiling. “Good afternoon, Lady Emily. I trust you have recovered from the dreadful crush of the Orman ball?” he said. His smile widened, more of a grin really, wide and white and full of gentle, teasing humour. As if they shared some secret, as if he remembered all too well when she slipped on the stairs and fell into his arms.

      A hot blush touched her cheeks, and she ducked her head to try to hide under her bonnet’s straw brim. “I am quite recovered, thank you, your Grace,” she said with a curtsy. “Though I am definitely enjoying the fresh air today much more!”

      He laughed, and shifted easily in his saddle, as if he was born on horseback. He looked so right there, Emily thought, comfortable and elegantly powerful, while she was terrified of the huge beasts.

      Horses, of course—not dukes. Though she was also rather terrified of him, when he looked at her so intently, as if he was seeing her for the first time. It was a very different sort of terror than that she felt when Mr Lofton grabbed her in the garden, though. It was a temptation inside her own heart.

      “I definitely agree with you on that, Lady Emily,” he said. “A sunny day outdoors is much to be preferred.”

      Jane gave a delicate cough, and Emily suddenly recalled that she was not, in fact, alone at the park with the duke. “Your Grace, I believe you know my friends, Miss Thornton and Mr Rayburn?”

      “Of course I do. How do you do, Miss Thornton, Mr Rayburn? “ he said.

      “Very well indeed, your Grace,” Jane said cheerfully. “We were just going for a stroll. Perhaps you would care to join us?”

      Emily shot Jane a hard glance, but Jane blithely ignored her. What if she said something foolish to him as he walked right beside her, or, heaven forbid, tripped and fell again?

      “I would be happy to join you,” he said. “If you are sure I would not be intruding on your confidences?”

      “The path is rather narrow for four, your Grace,” Mr Rayburn said in a hard voice.

      Jane tugged sharply at his arm. “Nonsense! Every party is merrier with more, and there is plenty of room near the river. You and I shall just walk ahead, Mr Ray-burn, and his Grace can walk with Lady Emily.”

      “Thank you for the invitation,” the duke said. He dismounted and handed the reins over to his groom before offering Emily his arm. Jane had already fulfilled her promise—or threat—and led Mr Rayburn ahead. She tossed a triumphant smile back over her shoulder at Emily.

      Emily had no choice. She slid her gloved fingers into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to walk beside her along the path. The other strollers watched them avidly as they went by, but she tried her hardest to ignore them. She watched the path under her feet, wary of every possible obstacle waiting to trip her.

      The gossip she would just have to worry about later.

      “I hope I am not interrupting important confidences between you and your friends, Lady Emily,” he said quietly.

      She glanced up at him, then wished she had not. His eyes really were terribly, terribly blue. “No, of course not, your Grace. Miss Thornton and I were able to confide on the way here. And Mr Rayburn is—well, he is not that sort of friend.”

      “Perhaps he is more of a suitor than a friend?” he said teasingly.

      But Emily was not accustomed to being teased. She felt that blush flame even hotter. “I—no, of course not.

      I just—I. No.”

      “Forgive me, Lady Emily. I am so used to teasing my sisters and cousins about their admirers I sometimes forget how to behave in polite society.”

      His family—of course. What a prig he must think her after them. “Mr Rayburn does not admire me, your Grace.”

      “Does he not? Very foolish of him, I would say.”

      “I …” She hardly knew how to answer that. She could scarcely say she actually had no admirers to be teased about, by him or anyone! “How is your family, your Grace? I have not seen any of them since that house party at Welbourne Manor last summer.”

      “All disgustingly healthy, thank you. My sister Charlotte is expecting her first child very soon.”

      “Indeed?” Emily was astonished. She remembered Charlotte Fitzmanning, with her wild hair and untidy gowns, always with a pack of pug dogs at her heels. Emily knew she had married Andrew Bassington soon after that party, of course—and now she was to be a mother. She would have her very own family. Emily couldn’t help but envy her for that.

      “You must send her my best wishes, your Grace,” she said. “Are you hoping for a niece or a nephew?”

      “Either, as long as the child—and my sister—are healthy.” He glanced towards the sun-dappled, blue-green river, where children sailed their toy boats and laughed in innocent delight. A shadow