Military Hospital.” He paused thoughtfully. “Granted, he does tend to deal more easily with people en masse than with individuals, but many a man more reclusive than he has been drawn out of his shell by the right woman.”
“It is plain to see you hold your employer in great respect,” Emily remarked, for lack of anything better to say. She found this idealistic portrayal of the duke almost as difficult to credit as the concept that one of the five empty-headed beauties who vied for his hand could be that “right woman” who would warm his frigid nature.
Mr. Rankin scowled, as if reading her thoughts. “The duke is more than my employer, Miss Haliburton,” he said quietly. “He is, by blood, my second cousin, but we were raised like brothers from the time we were small boys. I owe him my life—but that is a story best told at another time. Suffice it to say, I would gladly give my life for him, should the need arise.”
Emily gaped in astonishment. She felt certain Mr. Rankin was not a man given to idle chatter, but she found his amazing revelation about the powerful duke beyond belief. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked warily. “My opinion of the duke can scarcely matter a whit, and I cannot believe he would approve the telling.”
“He would most likely be vexed all out of reason,” Mr. Rankin agreed.” And I am undoubtedly the world’s greatest fool for sinking my own ship before it ever leaves the harbor. But I have come to realize in the past few days that these are facts you should know, Miss Haliburton, and I am certain you will never hear them from the duke himself.”
Her baffling conversation with the duke’s man-of-affairs had left Emily so confused she’d lost all interest in a quiet lie-down. Now, just minutes before the gala pre-ball dinner was to begin, she found herself wishing she had rested when she’d had the opportunity. The prospects for a peaceful evening ahead were not auspicious.
In a rare show of defiance toward her tyrannical parents, Lucinda had declared, while dressing for dinner, that she would rather die than dance with the “horrible duke” at the ball. This heresy immediately prompted Lady Hargrave to threaten Emily with the withdrawal of her yet unpaid stipend unless she made certain Lucinda behaved herself exactly as she ought.
Through no fault of her own, Emily found herself in the unenviable position of having to choose between promoting Lucinda’s future happiness or insuring her own survival for the next few months. Her mind was in a turmoil, and the headache, which had originally been a convenient figment of her imagination, started throbbing in earnest.
She stared about her at the vast state dining room to which a footman had directed the earl’ s party. It was the first time she had seen this particular room and her initial glimpse of it was almost as overwhelming as her initial glimpse of the great entry hall had been.
The walls were covered with stretched-silk the color of rich cream, topped by an intricately carved rococo ceiling. A series of high, narrow windows draped in rich, green velvet filled one entire wall, and the opposite wall was adorned with paintings which she recognized as the works of Holbein, Reynolds, and Constable, and even one she felt certain was by the great Dutch painter, Rembrandt.
Masses of pale yellow and snowy white roses from the duke’s orangery filled the series of tall silver epergnes marching down the center of the huge table—their fragrance almost overpowering in its sweetness. The service plates, goblets and flatware, in the same beaten silver as the epergnes, bore the duke’s coat of arms, and after her initial awe, Emily found herself contemplating the endless hours of polishing needed to present the dazzling display. Small wonder the Brynhaven staff had been working round the clock.
A number of strangers mingled with the houseguests waiting to take their seats at the table. “Who are all these
“It is plain to see you hold your employer in great respect,” Emily remarked, for lack of anything better to say. She found this idealistic portrayal of the duke almost as difficult to credit as the concept that one of the five empty-headed beauties who vied for his hand could be that “right woman” who would warm his frigid nature.
Mr. Rankin scowled, as if reading her thoughts. “The duke is more than my employer, Miss Haliburton,” he said quietly. “He is, by blood, my second cousin, but we were raised like brothers from the time we were small boys. I owe him my life—but that is a story best told at another time. Suffice it to say, I would gladly give my life for him, should the need arise.”
Emily gaped in astonishment. She felt certain Mr. Rankin was not a man given to idle chatter, but she found his amazing revelation about the powerful duke beyond belief. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked warily. “My opinion of the duke can scarcely matter a whit, and I cannot believe he would approve the telling.”
“He would most likely be vexed all out of reason,” Mr. Rankin agreed.” And I am undoubtedly the world’s greatest fool for sinking my own ship before it ever leaves the harbor. But I have come to realize in the past few days that these are facts you should know, Miss Haliburton, and I am certain you will never hear them from the duke himself.”
Her baffling conversation with the duke’s man-of-affairs had left Emily so confused she’d lost all interest in a quiet lie-down. Now, just minutes before the gala pre-ball dinner was to begin, she found herself wishing she had rested when she’d had the opportunity. The prospects for a peaceful evening ahead were not auspicious.
In a rare show of defiance toward her tyrannical parents, Lucinda had declared, while dressing for dinner, that she would rather die than dance with the “horrible duke” at the ball. This heresy immediately prompted Lady Hargrave to threaten Emily with the withdrawal of her yet unpaid stipend unless she made certain Lucinda behaved herself exactly as she ought.
Through no fault of her own, Emily found herself in the unenviable position of having to choose between promoting Lucinda’s future happiness or insuring her own survival for the next few months. Her mind was in a turmoil, and the headache, which had originally been a convenient figment of her imagination, started throbbing in earnest.
She stared about her at the vast state dining room to which a footman had directed the earl’ s party. It was the first time she had seen this particular room and her initial glimpse of it was almost as overwhelming as her initial glimpse of the great entry hall had been.
The walls were covered with stretched-silk the color of rich cream, topped by an intricately carved rococo ceiling. A series of high, narrow windows draped in rich, green velvet filled one entire wall, and the opposite wall was adorned with paintings which she recognized as the works of Holbein, Reynolds, and Constable, and even one she felt certain was by the great Dutch painter, Rembrandt.
Masses of pale yellow and snowy white roses from the duke’s orangery filled the series of tall silver epergnes marching down the center of the huge table—their fragrance almost overpowering in its sweetness. The service plates, goblets and flatware, in the same beaten silver as the epergnes, bore the duke’s coat of arms, and after her initial awe, Emily found herself contemplating the endless hours of polishing needed to present the dazzling display. Small wonder the Brynhaven staff had been working round the clock.
A number of strangers mingled with the houseguests waiting to take their seats at the table. “Who are all these
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