Page 33 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

Without a second thought, Emma accepted, her heart swelling with relief for the timely excuse to avoid Seymore, and for capturing the very Earl’s attention which she so desperately sought. Indeed, fate seemed to smile upon her tonight.

As Alexander led her onto the dance floor for their quadrille, Emma glanced toward her parents. She caught sight of their expressions—there was pride shining in her father’s eyes, and a look of relief mixed with anxiety etched across her mother’s face. Their approval was palpable, adding a layer of responsibility to her steps.

“You look like a pigeon ready for flight,” Alexander observed lightly as they positioned themselves among the other dancers. His voice held concern. “Is everything all right?” He eyed her curiously, his brow furrowed in worry.

Emma realized she must be doing a horrible job of concealing her emotions. “The warmth in the air must be getting to me, I’m afraid,” she replied, offering him a reassuring smile that she hoped looked more convincing than it felt.

“Oh, in that case, a dance isn’t what you need, but something cool. Perhaps we should—” he began, his suggestion hanging in the air.

Quick to maintain the facade of composure, Emma interjected, “Oh, I think I can countenance a bit of movement just fine. Besides, being stationary for long is only bound to add to one’s restlessness,” she added with a slight chuckle, hoping to dispel any further scrutiny.

She had the opportunity now, and she would be foolish to let her nerves hinder her, especially under her father’s watchful gaze. Emma could feel his eyes on her, tracking her every movement as she danced with Firman. The Earl was genuinely one of the kindest people she had met; however, she had to admit to herself, albeit reluctantly, that he did not stir her heart the way Seymore did. This realization surprised her, and she inwardly scolded herself to appreciate the Earl’s attention. After all, her parents seemed quite pleased with the pairing.

No sooner had her dance with Firman concluded than George approached swiftly and requested the next dance—a waltz. “Are you certain you do not need that lemonade first, Emma?” Alexander asked with a hint of concern as he handed her over to George.

Emma reassured him with a smile, “I’m quite all right, thank you.”

“He’s feeding you lemons now?” George quipped, a playful note of amusement in his voice, along with something she couldn’t quite place—was it jealousy?

“Lemonade,” she corrected him lightly.

“Same,” he shrugged nonchalantly as he took her hand and led her toward the dance floor.

“Well, I certainly do not see any lemonade trees on the grounds,” Emma remarked, her tone teasing as they began to waltz.

“Oh, even Firman does not possess such skill,” George chuckled.

“Yet,” Emma returned impishly.

“You have quite the confidence in him, it would seem,” George quirked a brow, the air around him tensing noticeably. Emma found herself puzzled, unable to decipher the undercurrents swirling in his tone.

“Oh, he has such passion for his field, it’s admirable,” Emma responded warmly, her thoughts drifting back to her recent encounter with Firman in the gardens.

She had come across him the morning after she had sent him the note, where he’d mentioned that he owed her a tour of his plants. As he hadn’t responded to her note, and made no mention of it, Emma had been left to wonder if he had received her correspondence at all. The Earl had seemed entirely oblivious to her letter—or perhaps he had chosen not to acknowledge it, though that seemed unlikely. She found the whole situation rather curious.

Nevertheless, it ultimately did not matter. She had achieved what she wanted in the end.

“Indeed,” George replied tersely, snapping her back to the present moment.

“You sound like you do not agree with me. I think Firman’s skills and dedication are rather commendable,” Emma remarked as he skillfully twirled her past a clumsy pair on the dance floor. She noticed the protective way his arm instinctively tightened around her waist, sending a subtle thrill through her.

“I trust your plans for Firman are going quite well without my interference now?” George diverted the conversation, deliberately ignoring her previous comment.

Emma felt her brow rise in surprise at his pointed question. Was this what he deemed a lack of interference? When he’dpractically pried her out of Alexander’s arms the moment their quadrille ended? And he’d done it in such a manner that, with the curious eyes of the guests upon them, she had felt compelled to acquiesce. After all, one does not simply turn down a Duke.

“Oh, are you planning a grander way to interfere and trying to deceive me by pretending you’re no longer meddling?” Emma quipped, her tone light yet edged with a real curiosity.

“You sound like a skeptical and suspicious old woman,” he retorted, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“And what on earth would I stand to gain by doing that?” he added, genuinely perplexed or perhaps feigning ignorance, she couldn’t quite tell.

“Why, to make me bring my guard down of course,” she responded quickly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she considered his possible motives.

“You do not believe me then,” he observed, his voice lowering, carrying a hint of something deeper, more earnest.

“Oh, you have never known to mind your business, George. My skepticism is not without experience,” Emma chuckled, her laughter sounding more nervous than she intended. Yet, he appeared to find no humor in the moment as he held her gaze with his, penetrating and inscrutable. Emma suddenly felt exposed under his intense scrutiny. But, for some inexplicable reason, she found she liked his invasion of her defenses. She realized, perhaps with a start, that she wanted it.

Something about this man never ceased to draw her in and hold her captive. As he guided her across the dance floor, his movements were so filled with ease and finesse it felt as though they were floating. The ballroom, the whispering guests, the glittering lights—all seemed to fade away. For those moments, it was as if Emma and George existed alone in time. Her heart raced, not just from the dance, but from the thrilling, terrifying, and utterly spellbinding proximity to this man who always managed to unsettle her so completely.

---