Page 60 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

CHAPTER 24

“Ithought you said I had no reason to make any more appearances in society, Mother,” Emma remarked in a resigned tone as her mother presented her with an invitation to the first ball of the season. She glanced down at the card, noting the event was in merely two days.

“Well, you do not,” Caroline replied curtly. “But your father intends to announce your engagement to the Marquess at the ball. So, you have a reason to be at this one,” she added, her voice laced with finality.

Emma felt a wrench in her heart. She was to be paraded before the entirety of society as Neads’s newest acquisition—a prize to be showcased. “I see no reason for an announcement at the ball, Mother,” she protested. “The banns will be read after all. Shouldn’t that suffice?” Her voice held a faint hope, a desperate plea for some semblance of normalcy, or at least, dignity.

She knew her efforts to sway her parents were likely futile, yet she couldn’t suppress the urge to attempt any possible deflection to spare herself from such public scrutiny.

“Your father wants it to be a grand announcement,” Caroline stated, her tone dismissive of any objections. “And what could be grander than the opening ball of the social season?” She added, her eyes alight with the prospect of the spectacle to come.

“But—” Emma started, hoping to articulate her discomfort further, but her mother swiftly cut her off.

“Your father’s made up his mind. If you have any grievances, I suggest you confront him directly.”

“Do I not have a say in the announcement of my own engagement now?” Emma asked, her voice tinged with despair. “Is it not enough that I agreed against my will? Do I not deserve this choice at least?” She added, her frustration palpable in the quiet of the room.

“You lost any rights to a choice the moment you threw away your opportunity at the house party,” her mother responded sharply, her words cutting through the air like a knife before she turned and walked out of the room, leaving Emma feeling even more isolated.

“I don’t know what to say, Emma,” Antoinetta, who’d discreetly excused herself upon the Baroness’s entrance, now re-entered the room, her expression one of deep sympathy.

“There is nothing left to be said, Antoinetta,” Emma sighed, her voice heavy with resignation. She felt a profound anguish that seemed too deep for tears, a sorrow that sat like a stone in her chest.

“You must remain strong,” her friend encouraged, squeezing her hand with a gentle but firm grasp.

“I don’t know if I can,” Emma responded, her voice barely above a whisper, betraying the uncertainty and weariness she felt inside.

“You must,” Antoinetta reiterated firmly. “And I will always be here for you,” she added, her presence a comforting constant in Emma’s tumultuous life.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Antoinetta,” Emma admitted, her gaze meeting her lady’s maid’s in the mirror. In this house full of constraints and cold ambitions, Antoinetta was her sole solace, her only breath of fresh air.

“You are Emma. I am confident you’d survive,” Antoinetta smiled encouragingly, her faith in Emma unshaken despite the circumstances.

I am Emma, that should suffice,Emma thought to herself two days later as she studied her reflection in the mirror.

She was to leave for the ball with her parents any moment now, the evening that would publicly seal her fate as the Marquess’s betrothed. As Emma adjusted her gown, Antoinetta came close, her expression serious yet gentle. “Remember, my dear, you still have a choice in this,” she whispered, pulling Emma into a comforting hug.

Emma shook her head slightly, unable to see the choices Antoinetta believed still lay before her. Nonetheless, she nodded, managing a weak smile. “Thank you, my friend,” she murmured, gratitude warming her voice for the support, even as her heart remained heavy.

“The carriage is ready,” her mother announced abruptly as she entered the room, her tone brooking no delay. She took Emma’s arm firmly, as if fearing Emma might flee if given a sliver of chance.

As they descended the grand staircase, Emma’s thoughts raced wildly. Could I run away? The idea flickered through her mind like a forbidden whisper. She had nowhere to go, no one to turn to except to embrace a life possibly of servitude. Yet, in a fleeting moment, she wondered if such a fate would truly be worse than a loveless marriage to the Marquess of Neads.

Emma felt as though she was walking to the gallows rather than another glamorous event in society. Every step felt heavier, every breath a bit shallower.

“Hurry up, women. We cannot be late on this special night,” her father called from below, his voice a mix of excitement and impatience that grated on her nerves.

There was no going back now. Not that she had been given a choice to begin with, Emma reflected bitterly as their carriage pulled away from the house.

It was the first ball of the season, an event glittering with the promise of joyful reunions and spirited dances. George, ever hopeful, scanned the crowded ballroom for Emma. He anticipated seeing her laughter-filled eyes and the lively tilt of her head as she engaged in the evening’s frivolities. But as seconds stretched into minutes, his initial anticipation slowly ebbed, replaced by a sinking feeling of disappointment.

He tried to steady his roiling emotions, to cage the feelings he was scarcely willing to admit even to himself. Yet, all attempts at composure abruptly ended when his blood ran cold at a sight by the ballroom entrance.

Emma had just arrived.

But the woman he saw now was hardly recognizable as the Emma he knew and had, admittedly, looked forward to seeing tonight. Not only was she on the arm of another man, but there was also a haunting emptiness in her gaze that George had never before witnessed.

This was not the defiant, impossibly proper, yet undeniably fiery lady he knew from their spirited encounters. Nor was she the scheming social climber he had once bitterly accused her of being. No, the Emma before him now was but a shadow of herself, a husk of the vibrant woman she used to be.

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