Page 31 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

Jane’s eyebrow arched, perhaps in surprise.

He found it rather difficult to guess her thoughts at this moment. Perhaps he was too agitated to think clearly. George half expected Jane to admonish him for indulging in spirits quite early in the day, but to his relief, she said instead, “A glass or two wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

As he handed her a glass in one of the quiet salons, she suddenly remarked, “I see Alex is finally showing Miss Lovell the nursery.” George almost groaned out loud—just the topic of conversation he needed least at the moment.

The regret of inviting her for a drink started to seep in.

“She seems quite enamored with the plants…” Jane continued, her voice trailing off a moment before she added with a chuckle, “Or is it the man she’s enamored with?” Her gaze on George was as sharp and probing as her words, clearly goading him for a reaction.

“I neither read Miss Lovell’s mind nor her feelings, Aunt Jane,” George replied dully, striving to keep his composure.

“Yet you spend an awful lot of time in her company,” Jane observed. “One would think you’d have a bit more to say than that,” she added, her tone dipping into slight disappointment.

“Not as much as Firman, apparently,” he snorted, the mention of his friend bringing a defensive edge to his voice. “Perhaps you should be asking him about her feelings instead,” he suggested tersely.

“Do you think she’s shared them with him?” Jane pressed on, her inquiry sharp. “Do you think she harbors such strong sentiments for Alex in the first place?” Her persistence was starting to grate on him.

“I suppose only time will give you those answers you seek, Aunt Jane,” George said, pinning a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He hoped his dismissive words would be enough to steer her away from further probing into a subject that was becoming increasingly uncomfortable for him.

“I find myself as impatient as the guests, I’m afraid,” Jane sighed after another sip of her drink. The weight of her gaze hinted at a depth of thought behind her seemingly casual remark. “Do you know they’re beginning to place bets on whether or not Alex would court her and make her his Countess?” she added.

George should have known that Jane Amberton was not a woman so easily deterred from a topic ripe with scandal and speculation.

“And what wager have you placed on this?” He couldn’t help the curiosity that crept into his voice, despite how intolerable he found the notion of Alexander marrying Emma.

“Oh, you should know that I am not so impatient and reckless with my wagers, George,” Jane chuckled, her laughter light but carrying an undercurrent of shrewdness. “I bid my time for the outcome I want,” she added, taking a measured sip from her glass as if to punctuate her strategy.

“And pray tell, what is that outcome?” he asked, leaning in slightly, both intrigued and apprehensive about her answer.

A sly smile crept onto Jane’s features, and she paused, letting the anticipation build. Just when George began to despair of receiving an answer, she leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

“Why, my wish wouldn’t be too different from the rest of society’s,” she murmured, her gaze locked onto his with piercing acuity. “To see Miss Lovell married at last.”

A sudden, vivid image of Emma happily married—not to him—flashed in George’s mind’s eye, startling him with its clarity and the surge of emotion it evoked. He tossed back his drink in an attempt to wash away the unsettling thought and reachedfor the decanter again. ‘Married.’ The word echoed in his head, relentless and taunting.

“Slow down on the cups there, Seymore,” Jane remarked with a hint of concern, rising from her seat. She approached him and gave his shoulder a gentle pat, her touch light but her expression serious. “I wager things are about to get a bit more interesting around here now,” she added, her voice low and filled with a knowing tone that piqued George’s curiosity even further.

Before he could probe the meaning behind her cryptic words, Jane turned on her heel and swung the door shut behind her.

A quick knock came on Emma’s bedchamber door. But before she could respond, the door was pushed open to reveal her mother, Caroline, standing at the threshold with an air of purpose. Emma’s heart sank a little; the soiree was tonight, and no doubt her mother had come to choose her outfit, a task Emma had hoped to manage herself.

Antoinetta, who had been folding some freshly laundered clothes, paused at the sight of Caroline. She gave a perfunctory curtsy and quickly excused herself from the room, leaving mother and daughter alone.

“I trust you are well prepared for tonight?” Caroline’s voice broke the brief silence, her tone carrying an undercurrent of urgency.

“It is just another house party event, Mother,” Emma replied, trying to keep her voice light despite knowing exactly where this conversation was headed.

“It isnotsimply another event, Emma,” Caroline’s voice sharpened, her eyes searching Emma’s face for signs of understanding. “It is one of your only, and last opportunities with the Earl,” she continued, her words heavy with desperation.

Emma observed her mother more closely and noticed how tired she looked. The shadows under Caroline’s eyes were dark and pronounced, adding years to her face and betraying the strain she was under. Emma knew much of it was due to the constant worries about Tristan’s future and behavior, which never seemed to leave her mother’s mind.

“You must make use of the night properly. Find the perfect moment with the Earl. No matter what,” Caroline pressed, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as if holding onto the last vestiges of hope.

“I shall try, Mother,” Emma sighed.

“No. You must!” Caroline’s voice escalated nearly to a yell, piercing the usual calm of Emma’s chamber.

Emma flinched, startled by her mother’s sudden vehemence. Caroline, realizing perhaps that her outburst was too much, glanced around the room almost in caution. She then lowered her voice to a near whisper, leaning closer to Emma asshe spoke. “Don’t you realize that this isn’t about you alone anymore, Emma?”

---