The Duke And His Mate

Chapter-3 Crash Landing On You

"There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment,"

____ Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever

Emelisse was a mess. She utterly believed that she had got everything together and she was perfectly ready to rise to the occasion. But that seems ridiculously delusional now. Her heart was slamming in her chest and there was an extremely unpleasant feeling in her stomach that was just growing and growing.

"You look like you are sentenced to death," Emelisse turned her eyes to the blue-eyed girl sitting opposite her and appraised her with a pointed look.

"Camilla," her mother chastised, noticing her expression. "Don't trouble your sister,"

"What? You can see it, look at her face," Her sister pointed out. "She looks sick,"

"When you are in my place, we will see who will be the one to talk," Emelisse hissed, desperately fanning herself.

"I am not going to be in your place for quite some time, sweet sister," Camila smirked. "I am just seventeen years old. I still have quite a long way to go. So, please, let me have my share of amusement at your expense," Had she not been so jilted already, Camilla would have been in serious trouble but at the moment, Emelisse needed to keep her mind straight and her nerves in check, so she had to make do with a glare.

"Hush, Camilla," Benedict chastised, glancing at Emelisse. "You will be fine, sister. You have got me by your side tonight. You need not worry about anything,"

"Well, we have sure got something to worry about here then," Bridget muttered under her breath. Benedict blinked and raised his brow at his mother.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He demanded.

"You will intimidate the poor men even before they can curtsy," Bridget answered, coming straight to the point as always.

Oh dear, not again. Emelisse glanced at Camilla and she made a face. She knew she was thinking the same thing. Her brother and her mother can never get along. Especially where she was concerned. While her mother believed in everything the traditional way, Benedict, being on the rebellious side, could never agree with her on that.

"That is so judgmental, mother!" Benedict protested.

"Don't forget you have a reputation, Benedict," his mother retorted. "And if you still insist upon it, then I suggest you utilize the time finding a suitable bride for yourself. You are seven and twenty years old. I don't need to say more, do I? And if you can't find one, leave it to me then,"

"I will certainly not leave that on you," he said. "And this is not about me. Emelisse is my sister. It's my duty to protect her."

"Oh yes, Benedict...your sister is in grave danger at a ball hosted by one of the most sophisticated, well-bred families," Bridget Featherstone huffed. "Please, do me a favor and just don't be a brother for tonight. Let her have a turn at making a mark at the very least. I did not train and dress her so beautifully for nothing,"

"Indeed. Hedge the bets as high as you possibly can on your daughter," Benedict scowled. "I will do what I need to do. There is no way I am letting any man even remotely less worthy of my sister get anywhere within her close proximity," Emelisse felt dismayed at the determined glint in her brother's eyes and her heart sank. Oh no. She had no idea whether to be grateful or worried. Because no matter what, she needed to find a husband.

And soon.

"You look beautiful, Em. And really sick," Benedict murmured, looking amused as he escorted her down the carriage. Emelisse was impressed as she gazed around at Lady Pembroke's, their host for tonight, elaborate gravel driveway lighted and decorated with brilliant candles and lanterns.

"I am sick," She hissed, glancing around at the herd of beautiful young ladies. They looked so prim and pretty and in control. And then there was her, a bundle of nerves and clumsiness. She was so perplexed that her beautiful lace gloves stuck to her hands with perspiration.

You can't do it! A small voice in her head nudged, making her feel nauseous.

"Em, you have to stop comparing yourself to everyone," Benedict scolded, noticing where she was gazing. "You are you and that is all that matters,"

"Easy for you to say," Emelisse murmured, taking his arm. What does he know? Not two seconds here and all eyes were on him. It was as easy as drinking soup for him. If Benedict Featherstone decides to get married, suitors would be lining up without him even needing to move his finger. He was perfect. She was far from that.

"Just take a deep breath, dearest," Benedict gave her an encouraging smile. "A smile can do wonders,"

"Yes...yes, stand straight, smile, and don't slouch," Emelisse repeated. "Or guffaw,"

"Oh and don't snort while you laugh," Benedict added with a chuckle. Emelisse glanced at her brother and she couldn't help but smile as he gazed down at her with a mischievous smile. With him by her side, she should be fine.

"That is some crowd," Benedict mumbled, looking irritated as they walked into the elaborate ballroom. "You owe me, Em. You know how much I despise this. Only for you, sister."

Emelisse nodded her head, very aware of the eyes that fell on them the moment they walked in through the doors. She appraised her surroundings and undoubtedly it was everything she expected. Fine music and even finer-dressed people. Beautiful chandeliers lighted up the huge ballroom with its colossal windows and pillars that were adorned with intricate gold work. Everyone who was someone was present there, chatting and laughing and undoubtedly passing discreet comments on the debutantes.

"Everyone's looking," her mother murmured, looking nervous herself. "Smile, be confident, and stand straight. Own the room," Emelisse had no idea how to do that. But regardless, she did as asked and gave her brightest smile to every familiar face that caught her eyes.

"Lady Featherstone!" Emelisse glanced at the young woman who walked over to them. She might be in her thirties, tall and petite with dancing amber eyes and dark almond hair. There was just something about her that pulled you in.

"Lady Pembroke," Bridget murmured with a smile. "The arrangements are splendid."

"Why, thank you so much!" Lady Pembroke grinned. "First ball of the season, a bit of a responsibility, eh?"

"Indeed," Her mother nodded. "You look lovely, may I add," The young lady smiled and turned her eyes to the other three standing beside Bridget Featherstone.

"Thank you so much, my lady. And well, well... this is a surprise, we have the honor to have Benedict Featherstone here," Lady Pembroke smiled, giving him her hand. Emelisse watched her and she could see the flirtatious gleam in her eyes and her smile as she appraised her brother. She was indeed a very attractive lady, but still, somehow the idea of her flirting with her brother wasn't quite appealing to her.

"I have to escort my lovely sister," Benedict answered, kissing her hand. His eyes mirrored the look in hers.

"Well...you owe me a dance, sir. Last time you eloped," She smiled playfully before turning her eyes to Emelisse. "Oh, precious! You look, lovely darling. Suitors will be lining up for you. Mark my words. But the biggest catch for tonight..." Before she could complete it, someone called her name from the crowd. Emelisse turned at the familiar voice and smiled as the green-eyed girl hollered towards her, face bright with exhilaration.

"Emelisse!" Amelia squealed and then, noticing that they were not alone, she gave the others a quick curtsy, her green eyes flitting to Benedict before turning back to her best friend.

"I was looking for you!" She exclaimed, pulling her away. Amelia Beaumont had been Emelisse's best friend for as long as she could remember. Although both of them were entirely different from each other, if there was anyone with whom Emelisse could be her absolute imperfect self, that was her.

"Did I see that woman flirting with Benedict?" Amelia hissed, adjusting Emelisse's already perfect hair.

"It felt like that, yes," Emelisse nodded. Amelia scowled and shot Lady Pembroke a murderous look.

"I do not like this at all," She muttered, fidgeting with her dance card. And Emelisse could see, that hers was already full. "He is mine."

She was a little thrown by her proprietorial tone. She cannot remember exactly when but Amelia had her eyes on her brother for a really, really long time. She loved him and, knowing how stubborn she was, Emelisse was sure she wouldn't settle for just any man but her brother. And while she was thrilled at the idea she wasn't sure if Benedict was on the same page as hers.

"Oh...look at him. So fine. This man haunts my dreams every night, Em. And not in a good way, I tell you. I love him so much. And sometimes I cannot help but imagine how he would look without the restraints of his shirt and waistcoats," Emelisse blinked at her best friend and blushed at her choice of words.

"I do not need to hear that about my brother, Amelia," She mumbled. She was surprised that she even entertained such thoughts. She had never dared. Her mother has always warned her that she should maintain a reasonable distance from men until she is married to one. And even though she had no idea why she would say that, who was she to question her mother? Amelia rolled her eyes and threw her hand around her best friend's shoulder.

"Someday very soon, Em, you too will meet a man who will rule your dreams and with whom you won't want any boundaries holding you back. Especially not clothes," She winked.

"Okay, you are definitely befuddled. But I am not and, unlike you, I actually need to go and find a husband. So, if you would excuse me," Emelisse muttered. Amelia laughed and nodded her head, waving at her.

Unlike what she expected, as the night started to pass, Emelisse started to become more and more comfortable with her surroundings, laughing and chatting merrily and wondering who amongst all the men here was the one she was going to end up with. The young man standing by her side, the stepson of lady Pembroke herself, Count Josiah Pembroke felt like a possible candidate to her. He had a kind face and was unusually funny and charming. And judging by the way her mother smiled at both of them, safe to say, she approved.

"Would you mind waiting for me a second? I will be right back, Ms. Featherstone," Josiah asked politely when it was almost their turn to dance.

"Certainly," Emelisse smiled brightly and gave him a polite bow as he walked over to greet a group of men. She turned around and was startled as Amelia burst through wherever she was, looking exhilarated.

"I have news!" She whispered, almost shaking with excitement. "Benedict asked me to dance with him!"

"Really?" Emelisse blinked, surprised. "Tell me more..."

"Let's go out. I am extremely tempted to shout at the moment," Amelia giggled, and, taking her hand, she started to drag her through the crowd.

"Oh dear...this is..." Emelisse grimaced but the rest didn't leave her mouth as she crashed against something hard and her feet slipped on the polished floor.

She realized she was going to remember this momentary matter of seconds for the rest of her life as her worst nightmare was about to come true and, terrified, she closed her eyes shut. She was going to make a scene of herself and her mother will kill her. But wait for a moment...

Why hasn't the pain or the embarrassing laughter hit her yet?

Oh, she was not dead...was she?

"Emelisse..." Amelia's voice was timid and very cautious. Panicked, she opened her eyes and blinked.

No.

She froze.

The most mesmerizing pair of dark eyes stared down at her while she could feel an extremely sturdy yet somehow equally soft grip around her waist, holding her down firmly as she gazed up at him. She knew everyone was watching. She knew she was supposed to move away and apologize. She knew everything but it felt like those dark, lash-fringed eyes were holding her captive in their embrace. Never in her entire life has she ever gazed into eyes so deep and mysterious yet beautiful to the extent where words weren't enough to describe them.

"Are you alright?" He finally spoke. His voice was strong and heavy and yet somehow so...she had no words. But there was definitely something about it as she felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Yes," Emelisse breathed. "I...."

"Durst!" Emelisse blinked and turned her head to see Benedict walking over to them. He looked surprised and excited at the same time.

Durst.

Where had she heard that title name?

"No. But I told you about him. We met when I was traveling a few years ago. The youngest child of duke Arthur Durst?"

Maxwell Durst.

Emelisse turned her eyes back to the gentleman who still had his arm around her and was still gazing down at her in a way that paralyzed her lungs of the ability to breathe. Emelisse wasn't sure what to think.

This was him?

The newly crowned Duke of Marholm?