Page 30 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

“Leave me alone, George,” she said firmly, not even pausing to look back at him. And without giving him the opportunity for any further conversation, she continued on her way, her steps determined and swift.

“Never,” she heard him declare softly behind her.

Her steps faltered at his single, emphatic word. But she quickly decided not to read any meaning into it, pushing away the stirrings of emotion it provoked. She needed to keep her focus, to maintain her resolve. He was complicating matters enough as it was, and she did not need any more distractions.

The Earl did not return later that afternoon. In fact, Lady Amberton and Seymore hosted their dinner without him that evening. Whatever estate matters the Earl was attending to, theyseemed to be consuming all his time, much to Emma’s chagrin. Nevertheless, she refused to be deterred by his absence.

Back in her bedchamber after dinner, Emma took up her pen and composed a letter to the Earl. She was determined to see the plant nursery, a visit he had all but promised her over breakfast that fateful morning. With careful words, she penned her request, hoping to remind him gently of his earlier commitment.

She sealed the letter and handed it to Antoinetta. “Ensure that it is delivered directly to the Earl.”

“I will. Do not worry. I know his valet quite well.”

As she watched Antoinetta leave with the letter, Emma allowed herself to feel a flicker of hope that perhaps the next day would bring a change, a small step closer to freeing herself from her father’s cruel grasp.

George was on his way to Alexander’s study after dinner when he happened upon his friend’s valet, who was evidently in search of his master. Alex had been conspicuously absent from dinner, detained by unexpected estate matters that had only just resolved, allowing him to return home. George was keen to catch up with him in his study.

“Is everything all right?” George inquired of the valet, noting the slight agitation in the man’s demeanor.

“Oh, it is just a missive I have for him,” the valet responded, holding up a small, sealed note.

“I learnt that he’s just returned. As a matter of fact, I’m on my way to his study. I’ll pass it across to him,” George offered. The valet’s face brightened immediately, a look of relief washing over him as he handed George the note.

Turning the note absently in his hand, George was caught off guard by a faint but unmistakable scent—it was the perfume that Emma wore. A flutter of recognition stirred in his stomach. The letter bore no identification, but the lingering fragrance was a telling sign of its likely author. Against his better judgement, he broke the seal and opened it.

My Lord,

I write to remind you of a small yet delightful engagement you promised me—the viewing of your nursery. Your extensive collection of extraordinary plants, which you so charmingly boast of, has piqued my curiosity to no end.

Miss Lovell

A wry smile touched his lips as he murmured to himself, “So you think you are clever, eh?” His voice echoed softly down the empty hallway.

With a newfound purpose, he refolded the letter, tucking it securely into his coat pocket. Fate, it seemed, was playing intohis hands tonight. With a smug sense of satisfaction, George altered his course, deciding to retire to his bedchamber to ponder this unexpected turn of events, rather than continuing on to Alexander’s study. His plans for the evening had suddenly taken a very intriguing detour.

CHAPTER 13

The following morning, George decided on a late breakfast, timing it so he might coincidentally meet Emma in the dining hall. Alas, she was nowhere to be seen. Had she chosen to forgo her meal? Or perhaps she had already dined? These questions lingered in his mind as he fetched his food from the sideboard.

As if in answer to his silent queries, he looked up just in time to see her through the wide glass windows that overlooked the gardens. She was not alone; to his dismay, she was accompanied by Alexander. George’s fingers tightened reflexively around the serving spatula he held, an acrid taste of jealousy souring his mouth.

How had she managed to persuade Alex to take a walk with her, especially since George had withheld the letter? The thought irked him immensely, as an annoying little voice in his head taunted,she’s a step ahead of you, apparently.

Temptation flared within him to abandon his meal and confront them, to insert himself into whatever conversation they were having. But cooler judgment prevailed, and he decided against it. It would be best to observe from a distance.

Alexander was demonstrating some of the finer points of the garden’s botany to Emma, leaning in close to impart a whispered remark. The air around them seemed to sparkle with her laughter, catching the attention of several guests who turned their heads in their direction. From his hidden vantage point, George watched, a tight feeling in his chest as more guests, intrigued by the scene, began to gather at the windows and French doors of the house to watch the pair.

With every laugh that floated across the lawn, a bitter taste rose in George’s throat. God help him, but he found himself desiring nothing more than to pull Emma away from Alexander, to have her attention focused solely on himself. He wanted her to look at him and only him. This fierce, possessive thought took him by surprise, unsettling him with its intensity.

And for the life of him, he couldn’t fathom why he was so agitated.

With a sudden clarity about the precariousness of his emotions, George turned sharply and made his way back into the house. He recognized he was treading on dangerous territory, and he needed to retreat before he did something he might regret.

“You look like you’re on your way to punch someone,” a voice abruptly halted him in his tracks.

Jane stood there, a slight smile playing on her lips, amusement in her tone. “Or something,” she added, her eyes gleaming with a mix of concern and curiosity.

“Would you like a drink, Aunt Jane?” George asked hastily, grasping at the opportunity to distract himself from the turmoil brewing inside him. It was a simple request, yet one that required no exertion of the physical energy he felt coiling tightly within.

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