Page 23 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

“What?” Jane asked, perplexed. Her eyebrows knitted together as she regarded him with concern. George realized just how dubious he sounded.

“Oh, nothing, Aunt Jane,” he dismissed, placing a quick kiss on her cheek before turning on his heels. The last thing he wanted was to worry her with his suspicions.

“If you hurry, you just might catch them not too far away,” she called out after him, her voice carrying a note of encouragement.

George did not waste a moment. He had a horse saddled in the stables before galloping out as quickly as the beast could carry him. The landscape blurred past him, but his mind was fixed on one thing: reaching Emma and Alex.

As he approached the edge of the estate, he finally spied their party. They had stopped, and Alex was talking animatedly, his gestures broad and confident. Emma’s laughter rang in the air, clear and joyous.

Something heavy sank in George’s stomach before twisting unpleasantly. She seemed comfortable with Alex, he observed. Too comfortable.

“Such tardiness, George. You should be ashamed of yourself,” Olivia teased when he finally slowed down beside them.

“My invitation was just as late,” George said, giving Alex an almost accusing look.

“Ah, it was a most spontaneous decision,” Alex chuckled in turn, his laughter light but unconvincing.

A forced one too, perhaps, George thought, recalling what Jane said about the Baroness’s insistent suggestion at breakfast. His unease deepened, but he masked it with a polite smile.

He let his gaze travel to Emma. A slight pink stained her cheeks, and George thought that she looked somewhat apprehensive. Her mirth had died down upon his arrival.

He did not like this. He was suddenly struck with a desire to change that. To make her laugh as Alexander had. To keep the smile constant on her face.

“How about a race?” he suggested, his voice infused with a newfound enthusiasm. As anticipated, her eyes lit up, although she clearly tried not to show much of her excitement.

There was something suddenly dubious about her too as she leaned into him and whispered, “What game are you playing at now, Seymour?”

“Horse racing,” he gave a deliberate shrug, his expression innocently nonchalant.

Emma glared at George, but underneath, he saw humor, and it thrilled him. There was a spark in her eyes that he had missed, a spark he was determined to keep alive.

“Before we start, what’s in it for the winner?” she asked, her tone challenging, but her lips twitching with a suppressed smile.

“Satisfaction?” George shrugged again, the simplicity of his answer belying the complexity of his feelings.

“Not enough,” Olivia, who was suddenly excited about the race, shook her head, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“Surely you do not think that I’ll race without anything in it for me, Your Grace?” Emma quirked a sly brow, her playful challenge unmistakable.

“Indeed,” Alexander chuckled his agreement, his amusement evident as he looked between George and Emma.

“You sound certain that you’ll win,” George challenged her, a competitive edge creeping into his voice.

“I like to remain optimistic,” she returned slyly, her confidence unwavering.

“Good spirits, Miss Lovell. Good spirits,” Alex praised. She turned that shade of pink at his compliment once again, and George felt his jaw clench. He did not like the way she responded to Alex.

“Fine. What do you want?” he asked, his tone more brusque than intended. Anything to get her attention away from Firman, he thought to himself.

She pursed her lips in thought before she responded, “A wish.”

“Granted,” he said, eager to see her smile directed at him once more.

They made to take their positions. George was about to turn his mount into position when he remembered his manners and paused.

“Is everyone in agreement with the terms of the prize?” he asked Olivia and Alexander, his voice carrying over the excitement of the moment.

They nodded as they assumed positions, their expressions eager and competitive. George counted to three before they spurred their horses and tore through the fields, the thrill of the race coursing through him.

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