Page 32 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

“I beg your pardon?” Emma’s voice cracked, disbelief and hurt intermingling in her response.

“Your father would have both our heads if things do not work out,” Caroline confided, her eyes darting nervously as if the walls themselves might be listening.

It would seem that she was merely trying to save her own neck from the noose, Emma thought bitterly. The realization stung, the disillusionment with her mother deepening.

“Either way, things would work out for him, don’t you think, Mother? Since he intends to sell me to Neads if I fail to secure a match here,” Emma retorted with a scornful scoff, her voice thick with contempt.

“Sell you?” Caroline repeated, taken aback. Her face contorted as though Emma had physically struck her, her eyes widening in shock.

Emma found that she felt no remorse for her harsh choice of words. She stood firm, her resolve hardening against the hurt reflected in her mother’s eyes.

“We only want your future secured,” her mother finally said, her voice a mix of plea and defense.

“No.Youwant to save yourself from Father’s ire,” Emma accused sharply, her voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within her.

“Emma!” Caroline exclaimed, visibly stricken by the accusation, her hands reaching out as if to bridge the widening gap between them with a touch.

“The truth always burns, mother,” Emma carried on, her voice quavering as she struggled with her own rising emotions.

“And Father only wants his title and coffers polished by a rich and influential son-in-law since he cannot possibly give himself anything more than the Baronetcy he was unfortunately born into,” Emma added, defiance and resignation in her voice. Now that she had begun this line of conversation, she felt compelled to lay all her feelings bare—it was high time, anyway.

“Is this how you feel?” Caroline’s voice wavered, her eyes shimmering with the onset of tears, a sign of her own inner conflict breaking through.

“It is not about how I feel. But about the reality. Thetruth, Mother,” Emma responded firmly, her gaze steady and unflinching as she confronted the painful honesty of their situation.

Her mother grew pensive, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly as if she were grappling with words too painful to utter. After a moment of heavy silence, she finally spoke. “I—I amsorry you feel this way, Emma,” she said, her voice a whisper of its usual self.

“No, you’re not,” Emma retorted quickly, her tone sharpening with her words. “Because if you were, you’d stand up to your husband’s tyranny and stop him from treating us both like his chattel,” she added, her words slicing through the tense air between them.

“You’re being overly judgmental, Emma,” Caroline countered, her voice rising slightly in defense.

“Perhaps because myfuture, my entirelifeis at stake here, Mother,” Emma fought to keep her voice level, but the tremor of desperation was palpable. She was battling not just for her future but for her very sense of self.

“Tonight is an opportunity you should not misuse, Emma,” her mother continued, brushing past the emotional pleas as if they were mere whispers in the wind. “I must tell you that Neads is not a certainty. The Marquess may be desperate for an heir, but he is just as unpredictable. If you lose your chances here, and your father, God forbid, loses the agreement with the Marquess too, there is no telling what he would do to us both. I hate to think of it,” she swallowed convulsively, her fear evident.

“Take my advice, Emma. Do what you must,” she finished, her voice a blend of resignation and urging, before turning on her heels and leaving Emma alone with her swirling thoughts and a heavy heart.

Emma now dreaded the soirée.

Later that evening, Emma paused by the ballroom door, her heart heavy with dread. Her stomach churned uncomfortably. The anxiety gripping her was like a mocking voice in her mind. She felt sick at the prospect of what the night might bring.

Just as she gathered herself to step into the fray, someone suddenly took hold of her arm, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. With her father on the prowl, ready to march her straight into Alexander’s arms, her nerves were taut, stretched thin by the weight of expectation.

She breathed a sigh of relief, however, when she turned to see Olivia, who was grinning despite the tight grip she had on Emma’s arm. “You look nervous, dear,” Olivia observed, her spirits faltering a bit as concern creased her brow.

“Oh no, I am quite all right,” Emma responded, mustering a smile to mask her discomfort. She let Olivia lead her into the ballroom, trying to steady her beating heart.

As they entered, Emma’s anxious gaze inadvertently wandered across the room and locked onto George. He found her gaze as well, and held it intently. There was a question in his eyes, a silent inquiry that spoke volumes, and Emma knew precisely what he was asking. Tonight, of all nights, she couldn’t afford any distractions. She couldn’t allow him to interfere with theplans laid out for her. With a firm resolve, she returned his gaze, imbuing her own with a clear warning.

Yet, warning or not, George refused to heed it. He began to make his way toward her, his determination clear in every step. Emma felt her heart begin to race, panic setting in as she frantically scanned the room for an escape route. Her eyes caught sight of her father then, his glare sharp and commanding.

Good lord, she thought in alarm, as George was rapidly closing the distance between them. Desperate to avoid a confrontation, she made to withdraw her arm from Olivia’s grip to make quickly leave the ballroom, but just then, a man’s voice called out, “Emma.”

CHAPTER 14

“Yes?” Emma answered and turned. Before her stood Firman, his hand outstretched with a bright smile gracing his features.

“May I have your first dance, Miss Lovell?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

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