Page 55 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

Emma’s mind drifted to that moment by the carriage, the silent exchange she had shared with George. She remembered the look in his eyes—intense, perhaps revealing more than he intended. At that moment, she had felt a yearning, a longing for something she was too frightened to even name, a feeling that still haunted her.

Yet, even if there was a sliver of a chance with George, she feared it was already spoiled by her actions. A sharp pang twisted within her, the pain of what might have been.

“Oh, we most definitely understand,” came her friends’ voices, tinged with teasing, pulling her abruptly back to the present.

“We understand your…feelingsfor Seymore quite well,” Aggie declared, her voice rich with amusement.

“Or lack of them,” Frannie chimed in, her tone just as playful, an impish grin lighting her features.

“Nothing matters anymore,” Emma sighed deeply, the weight of her arranged future pressing down on her. “I am to wed the Marquess of Neads now,” she added, her voice tinged with bitterness.

“That will not happen,” Agnes asserted firmly, shaking her head with a conviction that startled Emma.

“Do not give me hope, Aggie,” Emma pleaded, the tightness in her chest intensifying with the stirrings of a fragile hope she dared not entertain.

“It is not false hope, Emma,” Frannie interjected softly, her hand reaching out to grasp Emma’s, giving it a squeeze that was both comforting and empowering. “It isbelief.”

“So long as you believe, all hope isn’t lost,” Agnes continued, her voice imbued with a fervor that belied her usual composure. “And I will say it again. You arenotmarrying Neads,” she added with a vehemence that left no room for argument.

“Oh, I do not know where you two, and Antoinetta draw your optimisms from,” Emma sighed, her spirits lifted slightly by their unwavering support yet still clouded by doubt.

And her friends laughed, a sound so hearty and genuine it filled the room with warmth. “At the end of the day, we still have our Emma, and nothing will ever change that,” Agnes declared through her laughter, her eyes sparkling with mirth. Emma couldn’t help but join in, the laughter easing the heaviness in her heart for a moment.

“Don’t ever do that again, Emma,” Frannie’s voice suddenly turned solemn again, her laughter fading as quickly as it had come. Her expression grew serious, eyes locking with Emma’s in earnest concern.

“Do what?” Emma queried, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Keep things from us and shoulder all the burden alone,” Frances clarified, her tone gentle yet firm.

“We are here for you, Emma,” Agnes added earnestly, her gaze as intense as her words.

“That is what friends are for, is it not? To share in the good and bad times.Especiallythe bad times. So do not carry it all alone. Let us shoulder your woes with you,” she continued, reaching for Emma’s other hand and squeezing it just as Frannie had done before.

Emma nodded, feeling the sincerity and strength flowing from their hands into hers. She found herself unable to speak, overwhelmed by emotion. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and clogged her throat, a silent testament to the gratitude andlove she felt for her friends. Despite the turmoil that swirled around her, she realized that perhaps all was indeed not lost.

George arrived in London earlier than anticipated. Finding the roads mercifully clear, he had switched to horseback halfway through his journey, eager to cover the distance with more haste. Upon reaching the city, he opted to make himself comfortable in Alexander’s townhouse in the heart of Mayfair, rather than retreat to the quieter, more isolated Seymore manor on the outskirts.

He felt a pressing need for the lively companionship of his family; the boisterous energy they brought with them was a balm he craved in times like these.

Upon arrival, George was hardly surprised to find he had outpaced his family, who traveled with a considerably larger retinue. As he stepped into the elegant foyer, he noted the quiet that pervaded the residence—a stark contrast to what it would soon become.

“Do you know where the Dewsbury residence is?” George inquired of his valet. George’s question, posed insouciantly, betrayed none of the internal questions it masked.

“Oh, most definitely. I know where the Baron lives,” his valet replied eagerly.

George told himself he merely wished to know where Emma lived out of simple curiosity. Nothing more. It certainly wasn’t because he had any intention of seeing her again.

Yet, as he stood there, watching his valet’s meticulous movements, George knew he was not being truthful with himself. He did want to see Emma. However, the Emma he desired seemed vastly different from the one who had recently returned to London. In his eyes, she had become like so many others in society—a scheming fortune hunter. He bitterly recalled how she had nearly ensnared his best friend with her wiles, and how it had been his intervention that thwarted her plans.

These thoughts swirled darkly as he considered his next actions, longing and disdain battling within. Stevens handed George the address written on a small piece of paper just as the sounds of arrival echoed from downstairs. Slipping the paper into his pocket, George left his chambers to investigate the commotion.

As he reached the first landing, he was greeted by the sight of his family bustling in. Jane, upon looking up, clutched at her chest dramatically. “Good heavens, am I seeing a ghost?” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise.

“George, you’re here!” Olivia cried out, her excitement bubbling over. “How in the world did you get to town?” Alexander added, equally astonished.

“I flew,” George responded with a chuckle, amused by their reactions.

“I don’t see any wings,” Olivia teased, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Or a flying carriage outside,” she added, her tone playful.

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