Page 34 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

George’s gaze held hers so intently, so unwaveringly, that it seemed to pierce through her.Magicalwould inadequately describe what Emma felt at this moment, and something within her was changing quickly.

The music slowed, bringing the dance to an end, and she became aware of everything around them once more. She curtsied with as much grace as she could muster, though she felt somewhat dizzy—whether from the spin of the dance or the intensity of the moment, she couldn’t quite discern.

“Thank you, Miss Lovell,” George said, his voice a low murmur that seemed to resonate more deeply than usual. He lifted her hand to his lips, placing a kiss on her knuckles. The gesture, though chivalrous, lingered just a moment longer than propriety strictly allowed. Emma thought she might be imagining the added warmth in his touch, given her flustered state, but the thought did little to calm her racing heart.

Nevertheless, as he released her hand, she felt heat flood her cheeks, accompanied by an unfamiliar fluttering sensationin her stomach. What was wrong with her? She should be more composed, more detached. This was George, after all—infuriating, meddlesome George, who never seemed to mind his own business.

Yet, as she stepped back, the warmth from his touch lingering on her skin, Emma couldn’t help but question the nature of her feelings. Was it mere irritation that caused her heart to flutter so, or something deeper?

George pressed his cigar against the glass tray, extinguishing it as the library door opened and Jane walked in.

"What has you smiling so, Aunt Jane?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow in mild curiosity.

Jane's smile widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "The house party is going better than I anticipated," she replied, sitting on the sofa across from him.

George leaned back in his chair. "How so?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.

Jane's eyes sparkled with delight. "There might be a wedding after the party. I can feel the romance in the air."

George snorted, shaking his head. "You are referring to Alexander and Miss Lovell, I presume."

Jane laughed. "Why do you think Alexander will not marry Miss Lovell?" she asked.

George sighed, knowing he was about to indulge her musings despite his reluctance. "Miss Lovell is not his match," he stated simply.

Jane's amusement deepened. "And why is that, pray tell?"

"Miss Lovell needs someone who matches her in intelligence and humor. Alexander, while undoubtedly intelligent, is very different from her," George explained. "She also requires a firm companion, and Alex is too soft."

Jane leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with interest. "You sound as though you are describing yourself as a match for Miss Lovell.”

George stiffened. "That is utterly ridiculous, Aunt Jane," he dismissed her suggestion with a wave of his hand. "I have no such intentions. I cannot be caught."

Jane laughed again, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Well, my dear George, sometimes the heart sees what the mind refuses to acknowledge."

George huffed, turning his gaze back to the fire. "You and your romantic notions. I assure you, there is nothing more to it."

Jane simply smiled as she rose. "Time will tell, George. Time will tell." She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as she passed him. “Do rest and, my dear.”

George rose from his chair, the need for fresh air and clarity compelling him to pick up his coat. The manor's stifling warmth was no match for the crisp night air, and he ventured out into the gardens, his mind wandering back to that fateful night in the orangery.

He vividly recalled finding Emma there, her hair in a simple braid, her face lovely and seemingly innocent. He gritted his teeth at the memory.She is not innocent. She cannot be.If she were, she would not seek Alexander’s attention or throw George into a state of confusion.

Lost in thought, he looked up absently and stopped walking abruptly. There was a figure in the distance, unmistakable even in the moonlight. He quickened his steps, his heart pounding with concern.

“What are you doing out here at this hour?” he asked.

Emma looked over her shoulder, her eyes widening slightly in the soft glow of the moon. “I might ask you the same question,” she replied, her tone gentle but curious.

“I asked you first,” George countered, his tone more brusque than intended.

She stopped and faced him. “I am unable to sleep,” she admitted softly.

He moved closer, standing directly in front of her. “It is dangerous for a lady to be out alone at this hour,” he admonished gently.

Emma smiled. “But you are here now, and you can protect me.”

Her words sent a protective surge through him, and he offered her his arm. “Then you shall remain with me,” he said firmly.

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