Page 67 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

Emma’s brow furrowed. “What are you suggesting?”

“With this money, you can run away and start a new life if the Duke does not offer for you, Emma. You would not have to marry Neads then. It is not much, but it will help you,” Antoinetta explained.

“You were not jesting when you said I could run away if it all becomes too much?” Emma gasped in surprise. She felt a prickling behind her eyes as emotion tightened her throat. “Oh, Antoinetta, but this is your life’s savings. I cannot possibly?—”

“Yes, you can,” Antoinetta insisted, her hand closing firmly over Emma’s, forcing her to take the money. “Your happiness and freedom are worth more than these coins. I would rather see you safe and content than trapped in a life of misery.”

“Antoinetta…”

“I shall come with you if ever it comes to you running away,” Antoinetta said.

“You will?” Emma felt her chin begin to quiver, the promise overwhelming her.

“I’m only here because of you, Emma. No matter what, I shan’t abandon you. Ever.”

“Oh, Antoinetta,” Emma was at a loss for words, her heart swelling with gratitude and love.

“But for now, let us have hope and faith in the Duke. I believe he will do the right thing,” Antoinetta said, squeezing Emma’s hand once again.

“I have no words to thank you, Antoinetta,” Emma murmured, pulling her friend into a tight embrace.

“You don’t have to, dear. It is but what an older sister ought to do,” Antoinetta replied, hugging her back with a warmth that spoke of their deep bond.

Emma’s tears gave way again, and Antoinetta cooed softly. “I’m here. Always.”

Emma sobbed, the release of emotions leaving her feeling both drained and relieved. Only after she had collected herself enough to be certain she would be all right did Antoinetta bid her goodnight.

Even after her lady’s maid’s exit, she found herself unable to fully stanch her tears. The loneliness and fear crept back in, and she cried herself to sleep that night, clutching the small pouch of money as if it were her savior.

CHAPTER 28

Emma raised her hand to her temple and winced. She might have slept the night before, but the pounding in her head was a declaration of how fitful it had been.

“Do drink more tea. You will feel better, I promise.” Antoinetta handed her the teacup again, and Emma reluctantly took it. A knock sounded at her bedchamber door then, and she inhaled—anticipating and dreading.

Her mother walked in. “May I have a word, Emma?” she asked with a tentative rise of her brows. Emma nodded, and they sat down together. “You did not come for breakfast,” her mother began gently as Antoinette excused them.

Emma ignored the comment, her concern for her mother overshadowing her own discomfort. “How is your shoulder, Mother?” she asked. Food was the last thing on her mind, and she had no desire to discuss her lack of appetite.

“Oh, nothing a little liniment and some hot water has not already taken care of,” Caroline shrugged off her concern, trying to appear insouciant.

“I am sorry, Mother. I should have been hit instead.”

“Do not say that,” her mother admonished softly, reaching out to take Emma’s hands, squeezing them gently but firmly. “I should be the one apologizing to you, Emma. For failing you as a mother, I cannot begin to show you my regrets, child,” she added, tears welling up in her eyes now.

“I suppose you did the best you could,” Emma tried to reassure, her voice trembling with the effort to contain her emotions. Caroline had not failed her, but she had been absent and unsupportive at times when Emma had needed her most.

Caroline sighed, the sound filled with regret and sorrow. “I never thought your father would go so far as to strike you. You were very brave, standing up to him like that,” she said, pride and something akin to admiration in her eyes.

“You were brave too, interceding the way you did,” Emma replied.

“It is something I should have done from the very beginning, but I was too much of a coward to confront him like you did, Emma,” Caroline shook her head. “I thought that after everything, it was only right that I allowed him to have his way. That I owed him that much.”

“What do you mean?” Emma asked, growing perplexed.

Her mother fell silent, her gaze distant and pensive. After a moment, she spoke, her voice wistful. “You were not our first child, Emma.”

“What?” Emma was shocked, her mind reeling. Not once had she ever heard of this. Not even from the servants.

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