Page 20 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

“Oh dear,” Aunt Jane gasped.

“I will take her back inside,” he added. And an equally worried Olivia quickly volunteered to accompany them.

They met Emma’s lady’s maid in the vestibule, and the girl, alarmed at the approaching sight of her mistress, rushed toward them. She threw back the covers up in Emma’s bedchamber, and George gingerly placed her on the mattress.

“Would you like a physician, Miss Lovell?” He squared her with a deliberate look as he asked.

“No. I am fine,” she quickly shook her head.

George felt a sly smile tug at a corner of his lips. She must have noticed it too, because her scowl deepened as she regarded him.

“Oh, it is nothing a little ice wouldn’t be able to solve,” she added when Olivia insisted on a physician.

“I shall get the ice at once, My Lady,” the lady’s maid said before disappearing.

After making certain Emma was comfortable, Olivia said, “Do call us if you need anything, dear.”

Emma nodded. And with one last glance at her, and a glare in turn from her, George led Olivia out of the room.

Frustration inadequately described what Emma felt right now. Nothing she did seemed to work. The Duke was a menace she couldn’t seem to shake off.

She got to her feet the moment she was alone, feeling the dampness of her dress cling uncomfortably to her skin. The door reopened just then, and panic fleetingly rose within her until she saw Antoinetta bearing a bowl of ice and a towel.

Her lady’s maid’s eyes widened in surprise and worry when she saw Emma standing. “You should be off that foot, Emma. You’re going to worsen it,” she began to fuss.

“I am fine, Antoinetta,” Emma grumbled before going on to confess to her what had really happened. “My parents are about to chew me alive, and that confounded Duke is always getting in my way with the Earl,” she complained.

Antoinetta was thoughtful for a second before she ventured, “Perhaps he secretly harbors some affections for you, and that is why he is always getting in the way. To keep other gentlemen away from you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Antoinetta,” Emma snorted dismissively. Seymore had no feelings for her. He was just naturally spiteful and conniving, she thought irritably. Besides, she wouldn’t entertain a suit from him if he was the last man on earth, and her father had a blunderbuss to her head to marry.

Better him than Neads, a voice in her head suggested. But she extinguished the thought just as quickly. She refused to contemplate it, much less admit it to herself.

“Maybe you should let him court you,” her lady’s maid suggested with a mischievous glint in her eyes now.

“Father would send me to a finishing school for ladies on the shelf before that would happen,” Emma snorted, dismissing the ludicrous suggestion.

“But you don’t mind his suit, do you?” Antoinetta pressed on, clearly enjoying the direction of their conversation.

“I am not interested, Antoinetta,” Emma ground out, her patience wearing thin. “And besides, the Duke has no intentions of courting me, or anyone else. He’s a sworn bachelor, remember?” She added, her voice firm, trying to convince both her maid and herself.

“You’re blushing, Emma,” Antoinetta teased, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

“Are you going to help me out of this wet dress, or not, Antoinetta?” Emma purposefully closed that subject of conversation. But in fact, she felt the warmth in her cheeks then, betraying her outward dismissal.

Antoinetta winked before getting to work.

The following night, Emma found herself unable to sleep as she pondered her pitiful prospects and bleak future. She had exhausted all her options in trying to get close to the Earl, and George was always in the way, thwarting her efforts almost as if by design.

Donning her robe, she slipped out into the dark and quiet hallway. It was quite late, and the household had retired for the night. Seeking some solace in a warm drink, she snuck into thekitchens where she found the housekeeper working late on what looked like some household accounts.

“Oh, pardon my intrusion,” Emma said, her voice soft, surprised to find anyone still awake.

The woman dismissed her apology with a pleasant smile before asking, “Is there anything you need, Miss Lovell?”

“Just some milk, if it’s no trouble,” Emma responded, grateful for the kindness.

With a warm glass of milk in hand, Emma left the kitchens feeling slightly more content. The night outside looked quite peaceful and appealing through the windows, so she allowed herself to step out into the orangery. She took a seat on a bench underneath one of the fruiting orange trees, savoring her solitude and the comforting warmth of the milk.

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