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compliment?”
“Her charming personality, of course.”
“Hmm. The writers do not know her as well as I do, in that case.” Andrew turned to leave again, and even had the door open before he paused. He was the heir to the title and would one day be head of the family. He’d been so preoccupied with his own grief and anger at his father, he hadn’t really considered his younger sister. His sister Katherine, seven years Emma’s senior, had been at the estate, and he’d left her to console their younger sister. But now she had returned to her husband and children. Emma had been very much on her own.
Andrew turned back and found her standing at the window, looking out on the darkening sky. He should say… something. He was much better at teasing and making his sisters laugh than at anything of a serious nature. “Emma?”
She turned, looking surprised to see him still there. “Yes, my lord?”
Now it was his turn to laugh from surprise. “When did I become my lord ? You used to call me Drew.”
Her nose scrunched up. “That was when I was a baby.”
She still seemed like a baby to him. “I think I’d prefer it if you called me Andrew. It occurred to me”—he stepped back in the room, committed now, and closed the door behind him—“I have not asked how you fare since Katherine returned home.”
A look of sadness crossed her features. She was young to look so forlorn. “I am well. I miss her.”
He missed her too—their beautiful mother. She had loved him, never made him feel inadequate, and always saw through his attempts to pretend his father’s indifference did not matter.
“She is in a better place now,” Emma said, her gaze on his face. He still grieved her. He had always thought she would be his advisor when he became duke. How would he carry on without her?
“Yes.” He should say something more comforting, but he did not know what.
“My lord—Andrew, I know you are vexed with our father because of his recent behavior.”
Andrew raised his brows. It had not been a secret, but he did not know how much of his father’s recent behavior she had read about. He did not want to enlighten her.
“But you know that mother and father never loved each other. They married for duty, as I suppose you will. So if he seeks someone to love now, in his declining years, we can hardly judge him.”
Andrew stared at her. He could judge very well, thank you. But he was not so bitter he did not see logic. When had Emma become so wise? And how did she know so much about their parents’ relationship? They had not loved each other? He had never even imagined their courtship or their wedding. Had they married for duty? He supposed that was what dukes did. Was that what he would do? He would have to marry—there was no question of that. He had always thought he would marry for love. He’d chided his friend Pelham for his pronouncements that dukes did not fall in love. But perhaps Pelham had the right of it after all. Perhaps duty was all there was.
“How do you know?” he heard himself asking. “How can you be certain they didn’t love each other?”
“Because I saw them together every day. They didn’t even like each other. He was civil to her, but not kind or solicitous. He trod lightly when she was near, as though he feared something.”
“ Feared her? Emma, your imagination has the better of you.”
“Perhaps, but she doted on you, Andrew. Katherine and I…” She shuddered. Andrew frowned. She actually shuddered, as though she’d feared their mother. Fanciful girl. But her view of his parents’ marriage was not wholly Emma’s fancy. He could easily see his parents’ relationship through her eyes. He had never looked at them as a married couple. They were the duke and duchess first, and his mother and father second. Even when he’d been a child, his mother had been more duchess than mother to him. “Why didn’t I see this?”
“You were at school and home only on holidays. We lived
“Her charming personality, of course.”
“Hmm. The writers do not know her as well as I do, in that case.” Andrew turned to leave again, and even had the door open before he paused. He was the heir to the title and would one day be head of the family. He’d been so preoccupied with his own grief and anger at his father, he hadn’t really considered his younger sister. His sister Katherine, seven years Emma’s senior, had been at the estate, and he’d left her to console their younger sister. But now she had returned to her husband and children. Emma had been very much on her own.
Andrew turned back and found her standing at the window, looking out on the darkening sky. He should say… something. He was much better at teasing and making his sisters laugh than at anything of a serious nature. “Emma?”
She turned, looking surprised to see him still there. “Yes, my lord?”
Now it was his turn to laugh from surprise. “When did I become my lord ? You used to call me Drew.”
Her nose scrunched up. “That was when I was a baby.”
She still seemed like a baby to him. “I think I’d prefer it if you called me Andrew. It occurred to me”—he stepped back in the room, committed now, and closed the door behind him—“I have not asked how you fare since Katherine returned home.”
A look of sadness crossed her features. She was young to look so forlorn. “I am well. I miss her.”
He missed her too—their beautiful mother. She had loved him, never made him feel inadequate, and always saw through his attempts to pretend his father’s indifference did not matter.
“She is in a better place now,” Emma said, her gaze on his face. He still grieved her. He had always thought she would be his advisor when he became duke. How would he carry on without her?
“Yes.” He should say something more comforting, but he did not know what.
“My lord—Andrew, I know you are vexed with our father because of his recent behavior.”
Andrew raised his brows. It had not been a secret, but he did not know how much of his father’s recent behavior she had read about. He did not want to enlighten her.
“But you know that mother and father never loved each other. They married for duty, as I suppose you will. So if he seeks someone to love now, in his declining years, we can hardly judge him.”
Andrew stared at her. He could judge very well, thank you. But he was not so bitter he did not see logic. When had Emma become so wise? And how did she know so much about their parents’ relationship? They had not loved each other? He had never even imagined their courtship or their wedding. Had they married for duty? He supposed that was what dukes did. Was that what he would do? He would have to marry—there was no question of that. He had always thought he would marry for love. He’d chided his friend Pelham for his pronouncements that dukes did not fall in love. But perhaps Pelham had the right of it after all. Perhaps duty was all there was.
“How do you know?” he heard himself asking. “How can you be certain they didn’t love each other?”
“Because I saw them together every day. They didn’t even like each other. He was civil to her, but not kind or solicitous. He trod lightly when she was near, as though he feared something.”
“ Feared her? Emma, your imagination has the better of you.”
“Perhaps, but she doted on you, Andrew. Katherine and I…” She shuddered. Andrew frowned. She actually shuddered, as though she’d feared their mother. Fanciful girl. But her view of his parents’ marriage was not wholly Emma’s fancy. He could easily see his parents’ relationship through her eyes. He had never looked at them as a married couple. They were the duke and duchess first, and his mother and father second. Even when he’d been a child, his mother had been more duchess than mother to him. “Why didn’t I see this?”
“You were at school and home only on holidays. We lived
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