Emma’s heart pained her at the duke’s reprimand, even if he aimed the remark at Lord Norwich and not at her. She knew well enough that he meant it as a warning to her as well. “I am sorry for speaking my mind about current affairs and other such matters unsuitable for the delicate nature of ladies. I believe Londoners would call me a bluestocking. But if it embarrasses you, Your Grace, I will try to keep such thoughts out of my inferior female head and prattle on about nothing but the current weather conditions and what dressmaker to visit.”
Emma could not keep herself from smiling at Lord Norwich before turning to the duke with a blank look. She bowed her head. “Please accept my apology. I will not embarrass you again with inappropriate subject matter in conversation. And I certainly would not want to burden you with worry about my behavior while out in public. God forbid you should not find me a suitable husband and be stuck with an unwanted spinster in your household until my demise.”
***
Thomas cleared his throat and fought not to squirm in his seat while he ignored Myles’s chuckling. If he was not mistaken, she’d actually taken him to task for what he said, not the other way around. He would certainly have to keep a close watch on her when they did arrive in London. Maybe Thomas should accept Myles’s proposal and be done with it. He could get the girl off his hands this very day.
At the thought of that, Thomas’s right hand rubbed the sudden twinge in his chest before a tightness appeared in his throat. For some reason, he admitted to himself, he did not really want Emma off his hands, at least not yet. Certainly not before he got to know her and she met his family. And there was a lot of business and a whole ocean to cross before that happened. The pain in his chest lessened.
Thomas looked across the seat at Miss Hamilton and forced himself to smile to ease her unsettled feelings. Her complexion had paled, and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. He would contemplate how those made him feel later, when he could breathe easily again, without being affected by her company.
“Tomorrow Lord Norwich and I leave for New Bedford to settle your father’s affairs,” he announced. “I expect this could take many months, so when you turn ten-and-eight I shall return and escort you to London. Once there, you will have your season with my sisters and all the other eligible ladies of the ton, and a marriage will be arranged by me for your benefit.”
“Pardon me, Your Grace. May I speak plainly?” Miss Hamilton asked this in a voice barely above a whisper.
“By all means. You are among family.”
Her eyes fell on Myles. “Family, but Lord Norwich?”
“If my mother, the Dowager Duchess of Wentworth, along with my brother and sisters and I, consider Lord Norwich family, you might as well consider him family, too. Myles does practically reside at Wentworth House.” Thomas paused, eyeing her attentively. “However, please be aware that in public he is most certainly not a member of my family. The rules of social etiquette and propriety must be adhered to in that instance.”
Emma bowed her head. “Yes, Your Grace. I will try to remember all you have told me. However, what of my own thoughts and feelings toward the much celebrated institution of marriage? Do they mean anything to you?”
Surely Miss Hamilton could not be serious. The much celebrated institution of marriage? He knew what ladies felt about that. And Thomas knew what she would say about her list of qualifications and—above and beyond all—love would probably be on the top of her list. What love had to do with marriage he did not know and did not care. People of his status married to merge two prominent families, to acquire titles, wealth, and the much-anticipated heir. If mutual respect and friendship coexisted between husband and wife, their life together and any children born from the marriage would benefit greatly.
“Please enlighten me, Miss Hamilton,” Thomas suggested, “on your feelings about matrimony.”
A becoming blush spread across her cheeks. Thomas scolded himself for even noticing such a thing. He didn’t think he ever noticed when Amelia or Isabella blushed. Miss Hamilton was now one of his sisters, nothing more, and he must respond accordingly.
“Don’t be shy now,” he prompted, anticipating her answer.
“I believe I explained this to you in my letter. I wish to live here, in America, by myself. I do not wish to marry. I wish to become a novelist, much like England’s Jane Austen. Did she not make her living from her pen?”
Words would not come forth from his mouth. The only other time Thomas remembered a female rendering him speechless was when his sister Isabella expressed interest in living in a brothel so she could wear frilly clothes and go out without a chaperone anytime she wanted. And, of course, being a courtesan appealed to her because she could court any handsome gentleman she wished. Being able to choose the one she wanted for herself probably had a lot to do with her wish as well.