Page 66 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

She darted to her mother, her heart clenching in fear and guilt. But Caroline, with a strength Emma had never seen before, thrust out a hand to push her away. “Get out of here, Emma.”

“But—”

“Leave quickly. Now!” Caroline insisted. “I will take care of things from here.”

Emma hesitated only a moment longer before she turned and fled the drawing room as instructed. The last image she saw was her father, towering over her mother. It took every ounce of willpower not to rush back and try to pull her mother away. She knew, deep down, that they were no match for him.

Trusting her mother to handle him, as promised, Emma ran up to her bedchamber. She sat rigidly on her bed, her heart and thought racing. The events of the evening played over and over in her mind, a cruel loop of disbelief and horror. Her hands trembled as she raised them to her face, brushing the tears from her cheeks.

She started when her bedchamber door suddenly opened, a jolt of fear coursing through her as she fleetingly thought her angry father had stormed after her. Relief washed over her, however, when Antoinetta stepped into the room.

Emma's words spilled out, recounting the scandal in a hushed whisper. “I know. I heard your exchange with your father. Everything he said,” her lady’s maid admitted ruefully.

“He holds no shred of humanity in him,” Emma said. “I wish he is not my father.”

“I dislike agreeing with you on this matter, but I must,” Antoinetta responded. “I am sorry, Emma,” she added softly,her eyes filled with sympathy. She took both of her hands and squeezed them.

“I don’t know what to do, Antoinetta,” Emma sighed. “I never thought I would find myself facing ruin.”

“I shall bring you some tea to calm you,” Antoinetta suggested, rising. “You require it.”

Emma watched her go, then decided to change out of her evening attire. She slipped into a night rail, the simple act bringing a small measure of comfort. Returning to the bed, she sat once more, feeling as though she were living a life that was not her own. Despite the turmoil within her, no more tears came. She felt numb, as if her emotions had been stripped away.

Antoinetta returned with a tray of chamomile tea and milk, the gentle fragrance filling the room. She set the tray down and poured a cup, handing it to Emma with a look of encouragement. Then sat beside her on the covers as she’d done earlier.

“What do you think the Duke will do?” Antoinetta asked.

The room was silent, save for the crackling of the fireplace, and Emma's mind drifted back to George’s words earlier that evening. He had spoken with such confidence, assuring her that she always had a choice. Yet here she was, feeling utterly devoid of options, her fate seemingly out of her hands.

George was the one who needed to make a choice now. The only option she had was to wait, and she found herself filled with a crushing sense of powerlessness.

“I keep thinking about how George never offered for that lady in the past. Why would he offer for me now?” Antoinetta frowned, but she urged Emma to continue. “It is a reminder of the harsh realities of our society and how precarious my position is.” She wrung the linen of her nightrail. “A part of me wishes to believe that George is a man of honor, that despite everything, he would do the right thing by me.”

Antoinetta nodded. “I believe he is honorable. Perhaps the rumors we heard about him are untrue, and there is a reason he refused to marry the lady.”

Emma sighed. “Perhaps, and perhaps not.” The dejected part of her was gaining strength. “I might be ruined for good, and my future could lie only with the Marquess of Neads.”

Antoinetta reached out and took Emma’s hands in hers, squeezing them gently. “Emma, His Grace has always been a man of integrity. Do not lose hope. He may yet surprise you.”

“I wish I could believe that, Antoinetta. But the past haunts me, and I fear the worst.”

“Sometimes, the past does not dictate the future. We must have faith, even when all seems lost. You are braver than you think. Do not let your father’s cruelty define you. You have the courage to break free from his grasp and carve out a life of your own.”

“How do you have so much hope?” Emma asked in despair.

“I know honorable people exist, and I have observed your interactions with His Grace in Wiltshire. I am confident he will offer for you,” she responded.

“There is a reason for his reputation, Antoinetta,” Emma whispered. She desperately wanted her fear allayed, but she did not trust George. He had done everything in his power to get in her way during the house party. He believed her the villain, and although he knew the truth now, Emma did not have faith he will act rightly.

“Perhaps this time will be different,” Antoinetta said.

“People hardly change. Do not give me hope.” Emma shook her head.

Antoinetta reached into the pocket that hung at her waist and removed a small pouch, offering it to Emma. “Then may I give you a different suggestion?” she asked gently.

Emma took the pouch and opened it, revealing coins and banknotes. She looked up at Antoinetta, perplexed.

“It is money your grandmother gave me shortly before her passing, and my wages that I saved over the years,” Antoinetta elaborated, her gaze soft.

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