Page 37 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

Dear Lord, Emma thought despairingly. Her father was so desperate to secure this match that he was defying custom, allowing the groom to pay for her, rather than her family providing a dowry. It was both humiliating and horrifying.

“He reallyisselling me,” Emma heard herself say, her voice distant, as if it belonged to someone else—a stranger caught in a dreadful tale.

“The Marquess seems desperate for that heir too, it seems. He’s willing to pay,” Caroline added, her words clinical, detached.

“Now, after getting the Earl’s schedule, I managed to persuade your father for one more chance before he signs the agreementwith Neads. This is the last we have, Emma. He will not give another,” she concluded, her tone final, leaving no room for argument.

“What must I do?” Emma finally asked, her voice a whisper of resignation as the weight of her situation pressed down upon her.

“You must go to the west side of the gardens tomorrow after breakfast when the Earl will be there with his plants…” Her mother instructed, her voice firm, as if carving the path Emma was to walk with precision.

Caroline continued to outline the plan, detailing each step with an efficiency that felt chilling. Emma listened, her heart sinking deeper with each word. She was horrified not only by the machinations of the scheme but also by her own passive acceptance of it. She felt as though she had become an observer in her own life, watching as her path was dictated by others.

The following morning, as the sun cast a gentle glow through the curtains, Antoinetta entered Emma’s room with a letter in hand. “You look like you didn’t get a wink of sleep,” her lady’s maid observed with concern as Emma accepted the envelope.

“I had a most restful night,” Emma replied, her voice barely concealing the fatigue she felt. She unfolded the letter somewhat abstractedly, her fingers trembling slightly as she scanned the words from her friend.

My Dearest Emma,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits, though I confess I am eager to hear of all the happenings at the house party from which I am so regretfully absent. I trust you are dazzling the guests with your wit, as you always do.

I write to you with thrilling news! Gillingham and I, along with my brothers, are preparing for a grand tour of the continent later this summer. We plan to visit the majestic cities of Paris, Rome, and perhaps even venture as far as the Grecian isles. Gillingham’s enthusiasm for the ancient ruins is quite contagious, and I find myself equally excited for the art and the culture we shall experience.

We will be back in England by fall, but I shall call upon you as soon as you return to London, which should be before our departure. How I miss you, dearest Emma! I hope to hear all about your adventures and, perhaps, any romantic escapades that may have transpired in my absence.

Know that you are very much in my thoughts, and I am counting the days until we can sit and share a pot of tea with no cares for the time passing by. Until then, I remain,

Yours always,

Aggie

Aggie’s happiness resonated through her words, painting a picture of her fulfilling life. Emma felt a genuine smile touch her lips as she read about her friend’s adventures and plans, yet that smile was touched with a shade of envy. Agnes had her husband’s love, the support of her family—blessings that seemed so distant and unreachable to Emma. Her friend’s life appeared as a farfetched dream from where Emma stood, mired in her own troubles.

She couldn’t help but contrast her life with those of her friends. While both Aggie and Frannie were happily married, Emma found herself still struggling to make a suitable match after three unsuccessful seasons. What pained her the most was the way she was being compelled to pursue such a match—through schemes and manipulations that chafed against her very morals.

Tears stung her eyes as she refolded the letter, the paper crinkling under her fingers. With a heavy heart, she placed the letter back in its envelope, deciding not to reply at the moment. Not while her emotions were so raw, her heart so heavy.

“You’re lying to me, Emma,” Antoinetta’s voice cut through the heavy silence of the room, yanking Emma back from the dark tendrils of her thoughts.

“I am positive you did not sleep last night,” she added, her eyes piercing as they fixed on Emma, probing for the truth beneath her weary exterior.

“If this were a wager, you’d have lost it, Antoinetta,” Emma managed a weary chuckle, trying to deflect with humor.

Her lady’s maid, however, did not share in this humor. Her expression remained stern, her concern evident and unyielding.

“Fine. I couldn’t sleep,” Emma confessed, her shoulders slumping as the admission fell from her lips.

“Is it your parents again?” Antoinetta’s voice softened, her usual briskness giving way to worry.

The concern in her eyes nearly sent Emma over the edge, her composure fraying as she fought to keep her tears at bay. Yes, her parents were a constant pressure, a relentless force at her neck. But the turmoil that gnawed at her was rooted deeper than the mere machinations of making a match.

She found herself yearning for something else, something more profound and fulfilling, which she feared she would never have. When she wasn’t even certain of securing the outcomes her parents demanded, how could she dare to hope for something more?

“Father is already negotiating my dowry with the Marquess of Neads,” Emma revealed instead, her voice barely above a whisper.

She couldn’t bring herself to confide in Antoinetta about the internal war raging between her desires and her duties. Not yet.

“Oh dear,” Antoinetta breathed out, her usual stoicism faltering.

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