The Duke and His Swan

by HollyeLeigh

CS Regency Era AU inspired by the Netflix series Bridgerton: Not a direct retelling. While I have incorporated some bits of dialogue and scenes from the show, I will be taking this in my own direction.

3. Chapter 3

Part Three

Dearest Reader, How quickly The Season flies. Does it not seem as though our debutantes had presented themselves as fresh blossoms before the Queen only yesterday? And yet, here we are. Well over halfway through the summer, during which many of those blossoms have fully bloomed, while others are in danger of withering on the vine. What does not seem to have withered, however, is the attraction between a certain Duke and his Swan. I know you have been as taken by their courtship as I have, Dear Reader. Truly, they have been the darlings of the season, the pair to watch at every ball and social outing. Even so, one does wonder, with so many within our midst having already secured their happily ever afters, why is there still no indication of a proposal forthcoming from the Duke? Whatever could the man be waiting on?

~/~

Killian nodded cordial greetings to those he passed on his way to the Nolan box. Hoping he might spend a few minutes in Emma's company before Nemo arrived and he would have to return to his own for the performance, he was disappointed to find the Nolan box empty, save for the Viscountess.

"Your Grace!" she greeted cheerily, taking his continued assertions to heart and not even attempting to rise in his presence.

"Good evening, Lady Nolan," Killian replied with a courteous smile. His eyes flicking back towards the hall in expectation.

"Emma is visiting with some of the other young ladies in the salon," the Viscountess informed him with a sly and knowing smile upon her lips. "It seems Miss French has been issued a most unorthodox proposal."

"Oh?" Killian questioned with an intrigued arch to his brow.

"Baron Gold, if you can believe it."

Killian could not help the look of disgust that twisted his features, an expression that earned him a snicker from the Viscountess.

"I couldn't agree more," Lady Nolan commiserated. "I do hope the poor girl is able to avoid such a match. Why, the age disparity alone is enough to make one shudder."

Killian knew all too well of Gold's proclivities for a younger bride. All the more malleable, or so the Baron assumed. Malleable was not the word Killian would use to describe Gold's previous wife; a woman Killian had the pleasure of knowing in a less than respectable sense by society's standards - one of many, if he were being honest - and a lady who had deserved a far better hand than the fates had dealt her before her unfortunate passing many years ago.

"Indeed," Killian agreed before quickly changing the subject. "Did the Viscount not escort you both this evening?"

"No," Lady Nolan informed him. "He had some business to see to, so I volunteered to act as chaperone for the evening." Again, she skimmed her hands over her abdomen. "I know it isn't exactly done, a woman of my advanced condition going about in public, but I must confess I am slowly going mad in confinement."

Her cheeks pinked in response to her lament and Killian offered her a warm smile. "Perhaps," he began, stepping further into the box. "You would permit me to keep you company until Miss Swan returns?"

"I would be delighted," Lady Nolan replied with a bright smile, which quickly turned conspiratorial. "You would be most welcome to join Emma and me during the performance as well, Your Grace."

"While I appreciate the offer, Lady Nolan, I'm afraid I have already issued an invitation to Lord Nemo to join me in mine for the evening."

"He would also be welcome to join us," she quickly offered. "You could have one of the ushers leave word at your box for Lord Nemo to join us here."

Not one to refuse any opportunity he might have to spend time in his Swan's company, Killian stepped out and tasked one of the ushers to do just that before he settled into one of the box seats overlooking the assembling crowd below. No doubt his presence within the Nolan box would be the talk of the evening, with a fresh write-up in Lady Candlewyck's society page the following day. Scanning the boxes and pit to see who might already have their eagle-eyed opera spectacles set in their direction, Killian noted a good number of not-so-subtle glances being sent his way.

Some were to be expected; his own friends who would no doubt have a field day at his expense later that night when they all arrived at Booth's. Not for any great soiree or usual debauchery, only a friendly game of cards. The invitation list was limited to himself, Hatterling, Robin, Will, and their host, of course, all of whom were assembled in Jefferson's box and issuing him a joint toast from across the mezzanine. The rest were the usual gossips of the ton and those who simply wished to pass the time with a bit of people watching before the curtain rose.

"How have you been enjoying the Season thus far, Your Grace?" Lady Nolan asked. "I admit I had not expected you to be quite so immersed in all of its activities, given the added duties and responsibilities you are now shouldering."

Killian gave the woman a sideways glance in response to her coy tone and expression. "I think you and I both know well enough what has caused me to be so involved in the ton's events."

"And yet…" Lady Nolan hedged. "It is not Emma surrounded by her peers with news of a life-altering sort such as Miss French is currently considering."

Killian placed his focus solely on the Viscountess, and stated, "You and I both know why that is as well, I presume."

"Yes." She released a long-suffering sigh and lamented, "I had hoped being introduced into society and meeting so many charming and handsome men might chip away at the stronghold she has established regarding the topic of marriage, but if even your charms, dashing good looks, and highborn station is not enough to dissuade her, I do not know what will."

Killian blushed at Lady Nolan's compliment and dipped his head briefly. Looking back up he scanned the assembled gentry while pensively considering a question that had long plagued him.

"Do you know why Miss Swan holds such an aversion to the idea of marriage?"

Lady Nolan contemplated the inquiry, clearly torn between the desire to confide what she knew and worrying she might betray her sister-in-law's trust. "I have my suspicions," she finally relayed, "but I think that question would best be put to Emma herself."

Killian gave her a relenting nod. Though disappointed, he understood her wish to keep Emma's confidence. His disappointment was short-lived, however, when the woman unfurled her fan, using it to mask her features from the onlooking ton, and asked, "Do you know how Emma came to be the Nolan's ward, Your Grace?"

"I do not," Killian replied. He'd been aware of the family having a ward for as long as he had been acquainted with the Nolan name through his brother's friendship with David, but only vaguely so. David had been his brother's peer - despite having been second born as well, his elder brother and twin having died in childhood due to a tragic accident - and had garnered a low opinion of Killian at the onset, making their interactions as infrequent as possible.

Killian settled a little closer to the Viscountess, keeping his features neutral as he intently listened to her account of Emma's beginnings.

"Emma's mother had gotten herself into trouble," Lady Nolan began with a sad and heavy tone. "Pregnant, with no husband, she ended up in the village at the outskirts of the Nolan country estate, hoping a distant relative might have pity on her. The farmer and his wife took her in, but forced her to work very hard in order to earn her keep. Emma was about three years old when her mother died."

Killian's heart twisted painfully within his chest. He knew all too well the pain of losing a mother at a tender age, though he had been a few years older when his own had succumbed to illness.

"How? What was the cause?"

Lady Nolan shrugged her shoulders and sighed, "Exhaustion. Malnutrition. Disease. It's anyone's guess really."

"What happened to Emma?" Killian asked, noting how the question had the Viscountess' hands balling into fists.

"Feeling the woman still owed them for their generosity, the farmer and his wife kept Emma, forcing her to work the farm as an indentured servant."

Killian's jaw clenched, as did his own fists, and he swallowed heavily past a lump of rage forming in the back of his throat.

"When she was seven," Lady Nolan continued, "Emma ran off and was caught stealing eggs from the Nolan chicken coups by none other than Viscountess Ruth, David's mother." An affectionate smile pulled at her lips in fond remembrance before she pressed on. "When Emma refused to tell anyone her name or where she'd come from, the Nolans sent word throughout the village until the farmer and his wife came forward to claim her." Her eyes misted over and Killian offered her his handkerchief, his insides churning with their own turmoil as he waited for her to compose herself.

"David recalls Emma gripping his hand so tightly she left bruises when the man and his wife were ushered into the drawing room." She discreetly dabbed the corners of her eyes. "They had only lost dear James a few months prior, and Ruth often recounted how David had claimed Emma as his charge from the moment he set eyes on her. Seeing the truth of the situation, how frightened Emma was of returning, how cold and entitled the couple were, Robert and Ruth politely thanked them for all they had done, then told them they should not have to carry such a burden any longer. They dismissed the farmer and his wife with compensation for their troubles, informing them that Emma would remain at the estate, as ward of the Nolan family."

Killian remained silent, not trusting himself to speak. Part of him wished to demand the name of the couple who had treated Emma and her mother so cruelly, while another wanted to spring from his seat, go in search of his Swan, and pull her into his embrace.

Fortunately, he was saved from pursuing either course when Lady Nolan shared, "While I do not know the specifics as to why Emma refuses to marry, I do know that she has always been guarded. The former Viscount and Viscountess did their best to provide her a safe and loving home, and David poured himself into the role of big brother. The sibling bond that formed between them allowed them both to work through their traumas together, I think. For David, his grief of losing James, and for Emma, her years of abuse, but a wall remains around Emma's heart just the same. I have often told her that the wall may keep out pain, but it will also keep out love," Lady Nolan said, her eyes fixed on his with a significant look swimming in their green depths as she imparted, "unless, of course, love is either stubborn enough to scale it or patient enough to dismantle it, brick by brick."

A murmur of voices growing closer to the box pulled their attention to its entrance. When Emma and Nemo made their way in, Killian stood and greeted them both, hoping his tone and expression held none of the tempest currently ravaging him.

"Lord Nemo. I am pleased to see you received my note."

"Indeed," Nemo replied, cheerily. "And what a lovely change of plan. I believe I shall endure the performance much more enjoyably with such pleasant company. Not that I do not find your company alone delightful, Your Grace."

Nemo's teasing barb pulled a smile from Killian; one that continued to expand across his features as he turned to Emma. "Miss Swan," he murmured with a respectable bow of his head. "You look stunning as always, love."

Emma's cheeks pinked, and she thanked him for his kind words.

"Come, come," Lady Nolan urged. "Everyone take a seat. They are lowering the lanterns."

Killian swept out his arm, prompting Emma to take the seat closest to the stage, then settled himself in the one beside hers. "You really do cut quite the figure in that dress," he whispered into her ear, noting how his breath caused her flesh to rise and ripple down her neck and along her back before the lanterns were all but snuffed.

"Thank you, Killian."

The use of his name had him shifting in his seat, stirring him in a myriad of ways as it always did. And just like always, he sighed heavily at the fact their actions were always being watched. If not by the ton then by those who were charged to act as chaperone. What he wouldn't give to spend ten minutes alone with his Swan. Ten minutes. Surely he could persuade her towards marriage in that amount of time.

He had told her once that he had considerable other skills, and there had been no fabrication in his claim. Plus, he knew the attraction he felt for her was not one sided, given the way she responded to him whenever he chanced a brazen touch. His fingers skimming across the bareness of her back when they danced, using the cover of her hair to hide the fact his hand had crept too high. The brush of his hand against hers as they stood admiring the paintings during the gallery exhibit last week. The way her eyes had dilated as a swift gasp rushed past her lips when he'd licked the back of his spoon as they enjoyed ice cream at one of the confectionaries after a promenade. Her teeth digging into the tender flesh of her lip, the flush he could see working its way up her neck from her chest, the skittering of gooseflesh that broke out over her skin, and the continued charge that crackled the air around them told him all he needed to know of her captivation. All he needed was an opportunity to turn that captivation into desire, and then that desire into a need so great, she would realize how much more he could offer her as a husband than as a friend and ally.

That was, of course, if his own desire did not get the better of him first. As much as he wanted her, he refused to do anything that might risk her reputation. She was too special, too important to him to ever even consider the application of underhanded tactics that might force her hand. Whatever they were to become was as much up to her as it was him, and if all their subterfuge accomplished was for them both to escape the Season without attachment as they originally agreed, then he could only hope she would consider carrying on their friendship, if nothing more.

While Killian attempted to focus his attentions on the performance and away from the torturous musings of his mind and equally agonizing condition plaguing the lower half of his body, he could not help but be aware of conspiratorial sounding whispers being exchanged by the other two members within the box. Nettles of apprehension erupted along the back of his neck in anticipation of what Lady Nolan and Nemo might be colluding between them, but he would not have to wait long to find out. For no sooner had the opera ended, and the ladies were safely away within the Nolan carriage, then Nemo informed Killian he would be joining him at Booth's where the evening would consist of, not cards - as he had originally been told - but something of an intervention.

~/~

"You do not know for certain she would refuse you unless you ask her," August insisted, his legs thrown over Jefferson's as the two lounged on one of the sitting room sofas while their guests were equally lazed in the various chairs and couches that littered the lavish room.

Killian massaged his temples with his thumb and fingers, an exasperated exhale heaving from his chest. "Swan's position on marriage has not waivered in the many weeks I have been courting her."

"Ah!" Jefferson interjected dramatically, "But she is unaware your courtship is genuine. Perhaps, if you simply tell her how you feel-"

"If I tell her how I feel, get down on one knee, and propose marriage, I risk destroying the relationship we currently share," Killian shot back, quickly losing his patience at his mates' suggestions that he simply needed to up his game. "To say nothing of the complication of the Viscount who could refuse my petition, thereby forbidding our match."

"Well, there's always Glowerhaven," Will chimed in, already deep in his cups and blessedly close to passing out. "The two of you could run off there and elope. Not much the Viscount can do once the marriage's been consummated."

"Emma would never go against her brother that way," Killian said. "Nor would I ask her to."

"Compromise her then," Will tossed out flippantly. "A quick romp in the gardens, an expertly timed kiss in a dark corridor, hell… you don't even have to actually get her alone, just suggest you already have and let Candlewyck do the rest when the whispers of scandal reach her ears."

Killian shot out of his chair and yanked Will up by the collar of his shirt. "I will not have anyone besmirch the lady's name," he seethed through clenched teeth. "If so much as a single hint of reproach is mentioned in Candlewyck's pages, so help me-"

"He's drunk!" Robin shouted, attempting to pry Will's shirt out of Killian's iron grasp as the man flailed wildly in his drunken stupor.

Nemo pulled Killian away and shoved him back into the chair he'd occupied since arriving some hours ago. "No one is suggesting you take liberties with the girl," Nemo said calmly. "Not even Will." Nemo looked back over his shoulder where Killian could see Will turning a disturbing shade of green as Robin quickly marched him from the room in search of a chamber pot. "Something we'll remind him of when he's sobered up," Nemo added before patting Killian on the shoulder and returning to his own chair.

Both August and Jefferson, seemingly unaffected by the row that had nearly come to blows within the sitting room, quickly finished their whispered conversation as Nemo resumed the conversation.

"We all want to see you happy, Killian. And I think I speak for all your friends when I say, I have not seen you as content as you are when Miss Swan is in your presence, in too many years."

"Nemo's right," Jefferson said, his hand idly running up and down August's outstretched leg. "And take it from us," he added with a hard edge wrapped around his emphatic tone, "love is always worth the risk. Denying yourself the chance at happiness because you fear what others might think will only cause you an even greater despair. You have the opportunity to love your Swan in the full view of the ton, you'd be a fool not to take it."

"Even if the one whose opinion and rejection I fear is the very lady in question?" Killian asked, reminding them… again that it was Emma who opposed the idea of marriage.

"Why does she hold such an abhorrence to the idea of marriage?" August inquired.

Killian slowly shook his head and confessed, "I've no clue. I even asked the Viscountess that very question earlier this evening."

"What did she say?"

"That I'd have to ask Emma."

"Then why don't you?" Nemo questioned.

Killian's head snapped up and he met Nemo's inquisitive expression as August lifted his legs and set his feet onto the floor, leaning forward intently. "Indeed!" he exclaimed. "For all you know, her entire reasoning could be a matter of nerves regarding the wedding night or her wifely duties."

"Or," Jefferson interjected, matching his partner's posture and animated tone, "seeing as she was not born into the gentry, perhaps she feels unworthy or even daunted by the prospect of holding a title?"

"The matter could be resolved with a straightforward conversation," Nemo added. "How else will you know the battle you truly must fight in order to win her consent and her hand, if you do not ask?"

Killian leaned back in his chair and contemplated their counsel. Could it be as simple as that? Was it merely trepidations all maidens held in regards to the mysteries of the marriage bed for which their Mamas did not adequately prepare them? Or a sense of personal lack that had her believing she was not entitled to the position his station could offer? Could the matter truly be settled by him asking her reasons, then alleviating whatever misconceptions she might be holding firm to?

Polishing off the remainder of his drink, left briefly abandoned on the side table, Killian stood and bid his hosts a good evening.

"Where do you think you're going?" Robin asked, having returned from tending to his apprentice who was now sleeping off his evening of excess in one of the many guest rooms upstairs.

"Home," Killian informed him as he donned his jacket. "I need my rest so I am at my best tomorrow."

"You need to be at your best to promenade?"

"No," Killian countered. "I need to be at my best so I can convince Emma her reasonings are absurd without making her feel as though she is, so when I ask her to marry me, she'll actually say yes."

~/~

Emma knew she was being rude, having already received a pointed elbow in her side from her sister-in-law when their insufferable guest's attentions were briefly occupied by her brother. Not that she cared much. If Mr. Cassidy had not recognized her lack of interest in the cordial ways in which she tried to let the man down kindly, then perhaps a bit of discourteousness was in order. Besides, it was not he she had arranged to escort her that afternoon during the gentry's promenade through the park, so would it not be even more impolite for her to not keep an eye out for the suitor with whom she had a prior engagement?

Not that the Duke was a real suitor, of course, Emma reminded herself. Theirs was an attachment meant to fool the peerage and one outspoken author whose pen had forced them into this ruse and acts of deceit. Lies which seemed to have worked. Candlewyck had been poised all Season long to announce an engagement between the Duke and his Swan, as the writer had coined, only to have half the eligibles within their class enter into agreements instead. Orchestrated by Emma and her cohort, naturally.

It seemed, however, that the pen wielder was growing impatient. While her recent pages had questioned what might be keeping the Duke hesitant in asking for her hand, today's edition had cast curious questions in Emma's direction, speculating whether she were the reason the two were not yet headed down the aisle. A speculation Mr. Cassidy had rather erroneously misinterpreted, suggesting not so subtly her affections might be divided between the Duke and the only other gentlemen still paying call. Himself.

Emma all but sprinted from the tent when Killian appeared astride his sleek stallion, trotting up the equestrian path tall and proud, exuding an air of power and authority that never failed to send a shiver of wonder down her spine. She did not wait for a by-your-leave from either her brother or her admirer, making her way towards the Duke before he'd even handed off the reins to the attendant.

"Where have you been?"

"Well, good afternoon to you too, love."

"Don't love me. You're late."

"Had I known how eager you were for my company, I would not have stopped to get you these."

Emma's mouth snapped shut when she realized he'd pulled something from one of the bags attached to his saddle before his horse was led away. Clutched in his hand was a bouquet of the most exquisite flowers, their fragrant aroma filling her sinus as he extended them towards her.

"You got these… for me?" Accepting the bouquet, she held the blooms to her nose, inhaling the perfume of their scent, the rich heady redolence causing her eyes to shut as she became light headed.

"According to the latest Candlewyck, your affections may, in fact, lie with another, so I felt I should raise the level of my pursuit."

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips and her eyes fluttered open, allowing her to look up at him through her lashes. "If you truly wished to compete for my interest, perhaps you ought to start paying call in the mornings as Mr. Cassidy does."

Nervously scratching behind his ear, Killian appeared reluctant to share his thoughts, until he confessed, "Your brother expressly forbade me from darkening your doorstep. I believe if I were to attempt to call upon you, I would be given the brush off by whichever poor footman had the misfortune of answering."

"He did not!" Emma exclaimed, scandalized and enraged by her brother's rudeness.

"He did," Killian countered. "After the Viscountess invited me for dinner at the beginning of the Season. Why do you think I have not dined with you all?"

"I-I thought it was because Mary Margaret gets so tired in the evenings as of late. I had no idea my brother had-"

"It is of no consequence," Killian said, in an attempt to soothe her ire. He prompted her along the path towards the foot bridge, after she handed off the bouquet to one of her brother's servants who had come to collect it. "I have no wish to have your brother stare disapprovingly at me from across your drawing room, whilst I am forced to watch others vie for your indulgence."

Emma snorted. "You would be doing me a great favor, seeing as the only other currently visiting our drawing room is Mr. Cassidy whose company I find unendurable at best."

Killian glanced back over his shoulder and her own eyes followed his as they both noted the man's continued presence in the Nolan tent. "I would have thought Cassidy more astute," Killian commented. "I do not see how he could possibly think you are interested in him when you go out of your way to avoid him at every function."

"Or when I have a Duke fawning over me," she teased. "What lady in her right mind would settle for an Earl when she could have a Duke?"

"Why indeed?"

Emma thought she noted a hint of something more earnest behind his playful response, but dismissed the notion when he turned their conversation towards the remaining festivities the Season offered before it would come to an end.

"I suppose you will withdraw to your country estate once the Season concludes?" Emma asked while they paused at the center of the foot bridge and gazed out over the pond.

"Aye, eventually," Killian replied softly before resting his elbow on the edge of the railing and leaning against the high wall while setting his focus onto her. "And you back to your brother's, I imagine?"

Emma nodded and sighed. "Yes. Unless the baby arrives before we have the chance to make it back to the country. Then, I suppose, we'll spend a few extra weeks in the city until she and the baby are hardy enough to travel."

"If that ends up being the case," he began in a hesitant tone. "Perhaps, we might on occasion, spend time in one another's company?"

Emma's heart rate increased at the prospect of what his inquiry might mean and she nervously wet her lips before asking, "Are you saying, you'd wish to continue our acquaintance even after our ruse is complete?"

A soft smile lifted the corners of his mouth and Emma's breath nearly caught in her throat at the way his forget-me-not eyes sparkled in the afternoon sun, rivaling the glittering surface of the pond. Taking her hand, he brushed his thumb over her lace covered knuckles and answered with an adamant, "Yes. I would very much like to continue our acquaintance, our… friendship, after the Season has concluded."

"I would like that as well," Emma stated, and his soft smile became a beaming grin, stretching across his face and causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle.

Reluctantly, she pulled her hand from his so they could resume their stroll, her spirits soaring somewhere among the clouds at the confirmation Killian considered her a friend. He wished to remain in contact, either through outings in town, chaperoned by her lady's maid, or through correspondence when they each departed the city for their respective country homes. Perhaps he could even visit her at the Nolan estate? Surely, her brother would not oppose Killian visiting so he might give his congratulations on the birth of the Viscount's child in person? Or she could suggest he stay at their estate when he attended Graham's and Ruby's wedding in the fall?

"Your Grace! Miss Swan!" a familiar voice called out, pulling Emma from her musings. Further up the path, she spotted Lord Hatterling waving them over to where he was conversing with another man. Killian steered them in the pair's direction, then offered up an introduction.

"Swan, you remember Lord Hatterling?" Emma greeted him with a respectable nod then turned her attention to the other man. "And this is August Booth the Marquess of Fantoccio."

"A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Miss Swan," Lord Booth said, gently shaking her hand. "I have heard much about you."

"Please," Emma replied, taking her hand back from the man's polite grasp. "Do not believe everything you read in Lady Candlewyck's Society Pages."

A smile twitched at both his and Lord Hatterling's lips, their eyes jointly flicking to Killian's as Lord Booth shared, "I assure you, Miss Swan, it is not only Lady Candlewyck who sings your praises."

The men chortled at the way Killian's ears turned bright red, even as he tried to give them a stern expression, and she could not help her own amused sound as it escaped her lips.

"And I hope you won't mind my curiosity," Lord Booth continued, side-eyeing the Duke with a conspiratorial smirk set on his lips, "but Lord Hatterling and I were wondering if there was any credence to Candlewyck's latest speculations? We both know the Duke is quite fond of you, so why the long courtship?"

Killian stepped forward and opened his mouth, presumably to chastise his friend, but Emma silenced him with her whispered confession, "The truth is," she told them, leaning in so as to not be heard by any passers-by, "I actually have no wish to marry, and since His Grace is not yet ready to enter into the institution himself, we formed something of an understanding that the ton, and Lady Candlewyck, have mistaken as a more… romantic attachment."

"Intriguing," Lord Hatterling replied. "I do not think I have ever met a lady of the gentry who did not wish to be married. Tell me," he asked in a hushed tone. "What will you do in lieu of marriage and family?"

"I want to open an orphanage."

"Come again?"

All three men appeared quite astonished by that admission, especially Killian.

"I wish to retain my dowry so I might open an orphanage," she explained further. "If I marry, my husband will have control of the funds, but if I remain unwed, I shall gain control over my own fortune once I reach the age of thirty."

"And, I suppose," Lord Booth mused, almost to himself, "so long as you are discreet, you can also find yourself… companionship once you've reached the age of spinsterhood."

"Companionship?" she questioned, noting the stiffened, almost alarmed posture of the Duke while Lord Hatterling seemed fit to burst with amusement. "I already have many friends, My Lord. I do not see that changing simply because I do not wed."

"No, I, uh…" Lord Booth stammered, casting wide eyes at the Duke before murmuring, "that isn't what I meant."

"Then… what did you mean?"

"Apologies, Miss Swan," Hatterling interjected, grasping onto Lord Booth's arm and pulling him away from their little circle. "But we have kept you both long enough, and should really be getting back to my darling Grace. Good day!"

Emma stood rooted to the spot, thoroughly bewildered by the men's behaviour. Even more perplexing was the volatile hue currently coloring Killian's complexion as he stared after the two men who could not get away fast enough.

"What did he mean?"

"Nothing," Killian replied in a clipped tone. "Nothing you need concern yourself with."

"No," Emma cajoled, threading her arm through his as they set off once more. "You must tell me. What did he mean by companionship?"

"You aren't going to let it go, are you?" Killian questioned with a mild tone of exasperation.

"Nope," she replied with a playful pop of the p, smiling sweetly up at him.

The Duke sighed and surveyed the area around them, guiding them closer to the water's edge where they could speak privately while still remaining within full view of the assembled gentry.

"He meant…" Killian began with an edge of tension in his voice, "companionship that would provide the same sort of… relations you might experience within a marriage."

Emma balked. "Why on earth would I wish that?"

Cocking his head to one side, he explained, "For the… benefits such relations can-"

"Only men benefit from such relations," Emma interrupted with an eye roll. "While women are simply stuck with their consequences."

Something in his countenance shifted and the look now swirling in his blue depths made Emma's heart skip.

"I assure you, love," he murmured, his voice deepening with each word. "That does not have to be the case."

Emma wet her lips and raised her chin with a challenge she was not sure she could back up in that moment. "Well, forgive me if I do not take a man's word on the matter."

"You don't have to," he purred, his eyes darkening even as they sharpened their focus on her. "You can test the merit of my assertions all on your own."

"How?"

Killian stepped closer and Emma felt her breath hitch.

"Do me, and yourself, a favor later tonight, Swan."

"A favor?" she managed to ask on a stuttered breath. "What favor?"

His tongue swept across his teeth, and his Adam's apple bobbed as his gaze raked over her before trapping her once more with its intensity. "Touch yourself."

Again, Emma balked at his words, unsure whether she wished for the clarification she heard herself asking for. "Touch myself where?"

"Anywhere," he replied in a dark, husky tone that matched the look of pure seduction in his expression. "Anywhere that feels good." His eyes flicked down to the modest neckline of her gown and his eyebrows rose in consideration as he suggested, "Your breasts, perhaps. You could run your hands over them, roll your nipples between your fingers until they are nicely peaked."

Emma couldn't quite believe what she was hearing, his words and the rasp of his voice making her feel flushed as prickles of wonder began to break out over her skin. She ought to tell him to stop, but the way his eyes continued to roam over her with an expression she had never witnessed before had her desperate to hear more.

"Then what?"

A grin that could only be described as feral stretched across his lips, which he swiped wickedly with his tongue, before he lowered his tone even further and instructed, "Then, skim your hand down your body and explore between your legs."

She gasped at that, her legs threatening to give way under the weight of his narrowed gaze.

"Be bold," he commanded. "Do not shy away from the pleasure your hand will begin to coax deep within you. A throbbing, aching need will grow until, eventually, you'll be rewarded with a sense of euphoria, a release. Afterward, consider whether you'd prefer to spend the rest of your life with only your hand providing you such feelings, or if you'd rather have a… companion - a husband even - capable of giving you such pleasure, such satisfaction, in a variety of other ways and with so much more than just his hands."

All the air had been stolen from her lungs and she could not have responded even if she could produce any thoughts, given that her throat had gone completely dry. Deep within the core of her being she clenched against the ache he'd just described, having experienced it numerous times since the episode during the boxing match. The fine hairs of her body stood on end, desperately attempting to cool her heated flesh, and she could hear her heart hammering away within her chest. The reverberations echoed throughout her extremities, harmonizing with the throbbing sensation growing in intensity between her legs. An intensity that may well consume her if Killian continued to look at her that way, his own chest heaving, his eyes burning, his jaw clenched tightly, making the muscle above flicker in time with her own arousal.

"Emma, come!"

Her brother's voice had the same effect as someone pushing her into the chilly pond she and Killian were still standing beside. Drawing in a deep breath, she tore her gaze from Killian's and cast her sights onto her approaching brother.

"It's time to go," he called out. "Mary Margaret is in need of a rest."

"Yes, of course," she choked out. "I'm coming."

Her words produced a faint groan from the Duke and she suddenly found herself unable to look upon him.

"Please, excuse me, Your Grace," she said before moving away on shaky legs.

Killian's hand shot out, grasping onto her arm and halting her steps. "Emma, I…"

Whatever he intended to say after his brief pause would remain a mystery as David reached her side. "Hook," he greeted, curtly. "Will you be at Aesop's later?"

The Duke removed his hand from her arm, brows furrowed as he turned his attention to the Viscount. "Aye."

"Good," David replied. "I have something I need to discuss with you. I'll be by this evening after the ladies are settled."

"I will see you then," Killian acknowledged before casting his eyes upon Emma once more. "And shall I see you at the Camelot Ball tomorrow evening, Miss Swan?"

"Of course," Emma replied, not quite meeting his eye with her own. "I shall save you a dance per usual, Your Grace."

With her heart still racing and needing to lean onto her brother's proffered arm more than usual, Emma made her way back to the tent, already being dismantled, and listened patiently as Mary Margaret laid out the events of the evening.

Well… not all of them. Much later that night, Emma intended to partake in an event all her own. She had to test the validity of the Duke's words, after all.

~/~

Killian sat in one of the leather club chairs off in the corner of Aesop's, swirling his libation absent-mindedly in the glass he was gripping a tad too tightly. After a rather uncomfortable ride back to his city home, Killian had to take matters into his own hand while the footman arranged for his carriage. He still could not believe all he had said to Emma. What sort of cad said such things to a lady? Tipping the glass against his lips, he downed the remainder and internally groused, the same sort who envisioned said lady exploring the wonders of her body, complying with his request and testing his assertions, while he stroked and pleasured himself to the imaginings of the noises she'd make and what it would feel like to have her lush warmth surrounding him rather than his hand.

Slamming the glass down onto the table, Killian signaled for another. Fortunately, he was saved from the temptation to drown himself in self-reproach when August arrived, waving the summons Killian had sent him before taking the seat on the opposite side of the small table.

"What does His Grace require?" August asked, rejecting the offer of refreshment from the attendant. "I suppose I ought to apologize for my untoward comments in the presence of your Swan."

Not wanting to alert August to the inner turmoil Killian was battling due to the turn things had taken with Emma because of those comments, he took a meager sip from his glass and let the burn of it anchor him to more productive undertakings than brooding over his deplorable actions.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you about your country manor," Killian stated.

"I have no country manor," August replied with a pinched expression. "Or have you forgotten the scandal of my illustrious yet disastrous weekend some years ago where I lost all of my mother's family's properties and fortunes whilst gambling, leaving me with nothing more than my father's title, his house here in the city, and a few paltry investments?"

"Investments you managed to make rather lucrative, if I recall."

"Indeed," August admitted with a smug and somewhat appreciative expression. "Much thanks to you and your savvy."

"And with the windfall of your returned good fortunes over the years, you never wished to buy back the manor?"

August drew in a deep breath and considered the question before giving Killian a small shrug. "I am content with my life here in the city. I have no interest in the upkeep the manor would require, given how little use I would make of it." Cocking his head to one side, he asked, "Why do you ask?"

Killian took another sip of his drink, a longer pull this time, pressing his tongue to the front of his teeth as the warmth of it spread through his belly. "Because… if you do not wish to acquire it, then I shall be making an offer on it."

August's brows shot up his forehead. "Why on earth would you...oh!" he drawled with a nod of understanding and a sharp gleam of cunning in his eyes. "I see. Planning a grand gesture, are we?"

"Depends," Killian responded, lowering his voice as the room began to fill with the evening rush of gentlemen. "On whether old man Spencer's solicitor agrees to part with it before the next of kin can be located."

August nodded again. George Spencer had been the man August had lost his fortune to, elevating the man in status. Though he and his wife had tried for many years to produce an heir, the two had passed some eighteen months ago without a son to inherit neither the title that would have been passed from his mother's side, nor the lands, estates, and fortune George had amassed over his shrewd life. The country manor he had won off a young and naive August, newly titled and still coping with the loss of his father, had sat empty for years. It's upkeep, overseen by an agent, had been merely for tax purposes, but even that had gone by the wayside in the aftermath of Spencer's death. Neighboring the Duke's lands, the manor was a fine house, but paled in comparison to the other properties George's next of kin was set to inherit - should he ever be found - so Killian hoped the solicitor, given the slightly above fair market price he was set to offer, would see fit to part with it and alleviate himself of at least one burden the unclaimed Spencer estate was surely causing his firm.

"I am certain the man can be persuaded given your station and status," August encouraged. "And I appreciate you checking with me beforehand. When will you be inquiring about it?"

"Tomorrow morning," Killian informed him, his eyes shifting to the doorway where Viscount Nolan had just arrived, making his way over. "With luck, we can settle matters then and there."

"Then you'll only have the lady to convince," August needled.

"Not only her," Killian muttered under his breath, polishing off the remainder of his glass.

"Hook," Lord Nolan greeted with a stiff nod before turning his attention towards August. "Lord Booth. I hope I am not interrupting. I told His Grace I needed a word with him this evening."

"Not at all," August replied, standing and offering his seat to the Viscount. "My business with His Grace is concluded." With a reverent bow of his head, August said, "Please keep me apprised of your efforts, Your Grace."

"Aye," Killian replied, offering August a reciprocating nod before the man stepped over to join a group of their peers milling in front of one of the grand fireplaces.

"So, what is it you've come to chastise me about this time, Nolan?"

"Nothing," the Viscount remarked tersely. "I wished to inform you that Mr. Cassidy has approached me, inquiring after Emma's hand in marriage."

Killian was thankful his glass was empty, otherwise he might well have choked on his drink at such a pronouncement. "You cannot seriously be considering the man. He is wholly unsuitable for Miss Swan, even if she were agreeable to the notion."

"My wife is of the same opinion," Nolan informed him. "And felt, given the… attachment the two of you seem to have formed over the season, I owed you an opportunity to toss your hat into the ring, so to speak."

Killian's lips ticked up at the idiom, wondering how Nolan had taken the news his wife was aware of such an expression. Though, given the hostile way in which the Viscount was staring him down, Killian wouldn't be surprised, considering his penchant for boxing, if Nolan had determined him the culprit of his wife's newfound knowledge.

"So, you're hoping you can refuse Mr. Cassidy's petition by telling him I have already spoken for Emma's hand?"

"Not I," Nolan clipped. "My wife."

"And what will you tell Mr. Cassidy if I do not… toss my hat into the ring?" Killian asked, his insides churning with apprehension. Surely the man knew Emma would never agree to such a match.

"I am less concerned with Cassidy's petition than I am your lack of one," Nolan stated. "I think it's long past time you and I had a little talk about your intentions with my sister."

"My intentions are honorable, I assure you."

"Don't forget," Nolan said in a tight tone. "I know your reputation. Emma isn't some conquest."

"No, she's not," Killian agreed in an earnest and fervent tone. "Nor is she a mere object for whom you can decide its fate. She has a mind of her own and can choose for herself what sort of life she wishes to live."

"So, you have no marital interest in her at all?"

"Of course I do," Killian insisted, ardently. "If I thought she'd say yes, I would ask her to marry me this instant, but whatever we become is as much up to her as it is me, and she has made her feelings on the subject of marriage quite clear. As much as it pains me, I choose to respect them." Giving the man a look of stern significance, he said, "I suggest you do the same, mate."

Nolan gave the Duke an understanding, albeit condescending, nod. "I appreciate your time and your candor."

"Out of curiosity," Killian commented, stalling the Viscounts retreat. "If I did ask for your sister's hand, would you permit the marriage?"

"No," the Viscount answered, adamantly. "If Emma ever expressed an interest in marriage, she could do far better than the likes of you."

"Better than a duke?" Killian quipped with a smirk and cocked brow.

"Better than a scoundrel and reprobate who does not deserve the title he spent his life dishonoring with acts of debauchery."

Killian's hands balled into fists along the tops of the chair's leather wrapped arms and his teeth ground painfully together. The effect of the Viscounts words, however, did not stoke the embers of Killian's ire as much as they scraped against the raw nerve of worry he felt over failing his brother and his family's legacy.

"You know," Killian sighed, long tired of the tension between himself and the Viscount. "You and I are not so different."

Nolan blanched and straightened his posture in an infuriatingly pompous manner. "We have absolutely nothing in common… Your Grace."

"No?" Killian shot back, humming in challenge. "Are we not both second borns, fated to carry out roles and duties that were not meant for us by order of our birth? Can you not even consider whether you might have revelled in the freedoms second borns are afforded if you had not lost James so early, thrusting the mantle of the title upon you at a young age?" he questioned. "Because I admit to have pondered whether I would have wasted so much of my youth in such debauchery if I'd lost my brother at the age you lost yours."

Nolan's shoulders relaxed slightly, the tight clench of his fists releasing as he considered the Duke's words.

"You and my brother had much in common, and he valued your friendship greatly," Killian acknowledged with a note of melancholy. "I would not have us at odds, not when we both know the weight of carrying something that was not destined for us. You, above all others, must know the pressure I feel in not wishing to let Liam down. The desire to honor his memory and make him proud." Killian deflected his gaze, and twirled the ring set on his forefinger with his thumb, reluctant to reveal any vulnerability but sensing a tipping point between himself and his brother's oldest friend. "Having your approval would be like having his," Killian admitted in a hushed tone, flicking his gaze back up to the Viscount's. "And seeing as I am in this for the long haul, in regards to courting your sister, I would very much like your blessing in my endeavors."

The Viscount sat stoic, mulling over the Duke's words with a pensive expression. Standing, he reached forward and offered Killian his hand. "I will consider all you have said," he stated with none of the usual curt undertones in his words. "And I will take what you said about Emma under advisement."

Killian stood and accepted the Viscounts hand, shaking it with a newfound sense of camaraderie forming between them. "And Cassidy?"

"I shall try and let him down easy," Lord Nolan said with a smirk and note of humor Killian did not know the man possessed. "Pleasant evening, Hook."

"Pleasant evening, Nolan."

~/~

The bedroom lock clicked into place when Emma turned the key, ensuring herself privacy even though she knew it was not likely her maid, or any other member of the household would intrude at this late hour. She wished to take no chances, however.

Removing her robe, Emma felt positively indecent standing beside her bed without a stitch of clothing on. A gasp fell over her lips at the decadent way the silk sheets felt against her bare skin, the coolness of their touch a stark contrast to the heat radiating from her body. She'd been in a perpetually heated state with flushed skin and warm cheeks since her conversation with Killian earlier. The result of his propositions fluttering through her belly and tingling behind her breasts in anticipation of their further examination, to say nothing of the ache deep within her core that had her rubbing her thighs together all through dinner as her mind was distracted from whatever topic her brother and sister-in-law were fixated on, diverting its conjugations on what might await her when she was at last alone within her bedroom. Now that the house was quiet and solitude had been afforded her, Emma wasn't sure how to even begin testing the merits of Killian's assertions.

Touch yourself… Anywhere that feels good... Your breasts, perhaps. You could run your hands over them, roll your nipples between your fingers until they are nicely peaked.

Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, Emma brought her hands up and ran them over both breasts. Her nipples were already hardening, having gone stiff under the sinful gaze of the Duke's eye when he'd raked them across her neckline earlier, leaving her feeling as exposed as she was now.

What would he do if he saw her like this, she wondered.

The thought sent a rush of heat straight to the center of her being, intensifying the ache between her legs which only became more pronounced when Emma squeezed her nipples and rolled them between her fingers as Killian had suggested. Squirming against the sheets, her breaths became labored and her blood pounded in her ears as she glided one hand down her body. Tentatively, she met the soft curls framing her femininity, her sense of propriety screaming at her to stop as her body begged her to explore a bit further down, to dip her fingers into the forbidden places no maiden ought to breach.

Be bold. Killian's rasped command echoed in her ears, sending a fresh wave of desire over her as she spread her legs and slipped her fingers into the dampness of her folds. A shocked gasp at the wetness she found there quickly transformed into a moan when the quick, reflexive retreat of her fingers brushed against what she could only describe as the epicenter of her tormenting ache, alleviating the throbbing madness momentarily before it began to build anew, this time with promises of pleasure as she pressed the pad of her finger against it once more.

Do not shy away from the pleasure your hand will begin to coax deep within you. A throbbing, aching need will grow until, eventually, you'll be rewarded with a sense of euphoria, a release.

Emma's hips began to move of their own accord. A frantic need of something more caused her back to arch off the bed and her free hand to grip the sheets as she chased the euphoria Killian had promised. Thoughts of him flooded her mind. The feel of his calloused fingertips applying a sly, featherlight touch down her spine as they spun around the dance floor, causing her to shiver even as she glared at him playfully for his cheek. The way his body radiated heat and power and sensuality, his eyes burning with a hunger she had not understood until this moment. His tongue, flattening out against that spoon, swiping the remnants of the ice cream off the back before curling back into his mouth where an audible moan of sated appreciation had reverberated from the deep recesses of his throat.

...have a… companion - a husband even - capable of giving you such pleasure, such satisfaction, in a variety of other ways and with so much more than just his hands.

Wicked visions of Killian using his tongue to coax these sensations from her bombarded Emma's mind. The brisk pace of her hand faltered as pleasure suddenly erupted within her, sending wave upon cascading wave of ecstasy through every nerve ending and quivering in her extremities. She wasn't sure if she'd ever catch her breath or feel as though she would not catch fire from even the smallest spark, but soon her breathing and the pace of her heart regulated and she was left with a sheen of cooling sweat glistening the length of her body.

"Oh, my," she exhaled, at a complete loss for any other words or thoughts.

Well, not entirely. Thoughts were still swirling through her mind, forming themselves with more and more clarity as the chaos subsided. Thoughts of Killian and the way he smiled at her with a genuineness that crinkled in the corners of his eyes. The way he listened and engaged in discourse with her as though she were an equal, without any patronizing tones other gentlemen of the ton often used around the ladies of their peerage. The way he looked at her when he wasn't aware of her notice, a look she had never seen him cast upon any other woman. The way he held her, laughed with her, conspired with her, complimented her with a reverent sincerity she never questioned.

The way he would one day have to marry and produce an heir.

Tears stung Emma's eyes and she rolled over, pulling her knees to her chest. Wrapping her arms around them tightly, she tried to crush the hollow feeling enveloping her heart. If the sensations of sexual release ravaging her body had been a shock to her system, they paled in comparison to the devastation her emotional awakening had wrought. Never would she have imagined a path towards carnal discovery inadvertently demolishing the wall she'd carefully constructed for herself. Although… as Emma laid awake, reflecting back on every encounter, every exchange, every roguish brow, shameless smirk, and tantalizing glance she'd shared with Killian, she realized what a fool she'd been to not register the dismantling that had occurred over the many weeks of their association, leaving her without a citadel to hide behind.

All that was left was the armor of her obstinate pride, perhaps too stubborn to admit she'd been wrong. Turned out there were advantages to marriage she had not previously considered, and she was not sure she wished to wait until a suitable age to find the same kind of companionship a husband could provide. Especially if that companion was not Killian. For now she knew the other advantage marriage might hold for her over that of a life of a spinster.

Love.