Page 22 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

Emma saw his face move closer, her breath catching in anticipation. But instead of the kiss she braced herself for, he suddenly got to his feet, breaking the moment and the spell.

“Surely you understand, Emma,” he said, his voice low. And without waiting for her response, he added, “Have a pleasant rest of the night.”

CHAPTER 10

Pacing back and forth in his room, George grappled with the unsettling thoughts that swirled through his mind following his encounter with Emma in the orangery. He was unable to rid himself of the image of her under the moonlit sky, her hair loosely braided, her cheeks touched with a soft glow.

Stopping by the window, he shoved his fingers through his hair. What was happening to him? Why was he so affected by her? Why now more than ever?

Her plea for him to step aside so she could approach Alex had been desperate, almost palpable in its urgency, yet she offered no explanation. He couldn’t help but suspect motives of social ambitions, though nothing in Emma’s demeanor suggested she was capable of such scheming.

Her parents, however… They were the likely source of any manipulative designs. Yet, as he pinched the bridge of his nose,trying to dispel the inappropriate warmth that thought of her stirred within him, he felt a troubling contradiction.

Was he refusing to believe her capable to scheming because she had captivated him? No, it could not be. There were women in England who were more…

No! There was something about Emma that arrested his senses and held them captive, and until he had dealt with it, he might not be able to save Alex from her. He was certain that sleep would be a lost cause tonight, and thus, he sought to occupy himself with something else.

George walked up to his desk and opened a drawer, retrieving a wooden box. Slowly, he ran his fingers across the worn wood. “Eighteen years and we are still here,” he muttered to himself.

Opening the box, he selected a paintbrush from the collection of nine. This had been his father’s final gift to him, and he only used these brushes to paint his most significant works. He moved to a waiting easel and sat in front of it. As he mixed the colors, bright green eyes appeared in his mind, then long brown hair, followed by a laugh so beautiful he nearly dropped the brush.

Heavens! Could this woman not leave him be? His jaw clenched, he dipped his brush in the paint and raised it to the canvas, working in quick determined strokes.

I will not allow you any triumph, Emma,he thought to himself.I am the Duke of Seymore, and no one can hold me captive!

The following morning, George timed his breakfast to coincide with Emma’s usual appearance, hoping to observe her in a more informal setting or perhaps engage in a light conversation that could shed light on her perplexing behavior. He descended to the breakfast room only to find it bustling with unfamiliar faces.

He chose a seat, poured himself some coffee, and waited as the room slowly emptied, each departing guest a minor disappointment as Emma never appeared.

Could she be evading him? George drained his lukewarm coffee and decided to seek her out. His concern over Emma’s unusual absence from breakfast had deepened, mingled with a puzzling eagerness to see her again. He wandered through the salons and drawing rooms, finding each charmingly empty, until he eventually found himself back in the grand front hall.

“You look like you’re looking for someone,” Jane Amberton’s voice caught him off guard. She was busy directing the housekeeper and some footmen about the arrangements for the upcoming soiree.

“Me?” George paused, caught mid-step. “Ah… No. No one at all,” he lied, attempting to sound casual.

Jane dismissed the servants with a nod before turning to face him, her eyes narrowing slightly with a knowing look. “Ifyou’re looking for Miss Lovell, she’s out riding, you know,” she informed him, as if reading his thoughts.

George couldn’t hide his surprise. “She is?” he blurted out, immediately regretting his lack of composure. It was indeed quite early for a ride; the thought added to his confusion.

“I thought you said you weren’t looking for anyone?” Jane’s eyebrow arched skeptically as she placed her hands on her hips, her stance echoing her disbelief.

“I wasn’t,” George cleared his throat, feeling somewhat sheepish under her scrutinizing gaze.

“Shamelessly lying now, are we?” Jane teased with a sly grin, clearly amused by his discomfort.

“Very well, Aunt Jane,” he conceded, offering a resigned smile. He knew better than to try to fool her.

“She’s out riding with Alexander,” Jane suddenly added, her casual mention of this new piece of information causing George’s heart to skip a beat.

“What?” He couldn’t help the sharp response, his voice echoing slightly in the spacious hall. Why was she only telling him this now?

Jane’s expression softened slightly at his reaction, her features molding into a semblance of sympathy. “Yes, they left just ashort while ago. Seemed keen to enjoy the morning sun,” she explained, her tone neutral but her eyes watching him closely, perhaps a bit too closely for comfort.

George felt a tightness in his chest at the thought of Emma out riding with Alexander, alone. This was exactly the sort of situation he had hoped to avoid. His protective instincts, already finely tuned, now edged toward alarm. He needed to see for himself, to ensure that everything was as innocent as it appeared. With a curt nod to Jane, he excused himself, stepping briskly toward the stables, his mind racing as much as his heart.

“The Baroness suggested a ride at breakfast. And Olivia was most excited to get some air too, so Alex obliged,” Jane elaborated, a hint of curiosity in her tone. “I must say, the Baroness seemed rather insistent when she suggested to Alex to take Emma out riding,” she added, almost as an afterthought to herself.

“Of course, she would be,” George mused, something uncomfortable settling over him. He could not shake the feeling that there was more to the Baroness’s insistence than mere pleasantries.

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