Page 77 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

The color had a lightness to it that Emma very much appreciated. Something about the pale green was calming, soothing her frayed nerves with its serenity.

Caroline smiled at her daughter, her eyes reflecting a mother’s pride. “It suits you perfectly, my dear,” she said softly.

Jane nodded in agreement, her expression one of satisfaction. “Then it is settled. Pale green lace it shall be,” she declared, her tone final yet joyful.

As the modiste brought out the fabric, Emma’s fingers traced the delicate lace. “Imagine how stunning you will look walking down the aisle in this,” Caroline murmured, her voice almost reverent.

Emma smiled, the image of her wedding day slowly forming in her mind, yet her heart remained heavy with the uncertainties that lay ahead. Her thoughts kept returning to the unsettlingexchange with her father the previous day, casting a shadow over her mood. She frowned.

“Are you certain you want this, Emma? Do not allow us to force it on you, dear. That is not what we mean to do.” Her mother’s gentle voice broke through her reverie, and Emma quickly smoothed her features, offering a reassuring smile.

“I am fond of the color and fabric, Mother,” she said with more conviction.

“Oh, Olivia will never forgive us for coming shopping without her,” Jane laughed.

“She can join us on the next excursion,” Caroline suggested. “God knows we will need more than one trip to complete the trousseau.”

“I am sure Frances and Agnes would love to come along as well,” Emma added, her spirits lifting at the thought of her friends’ company.

“Perfect,” her mother agreed.

“Oh, that would be merrier,” Jane clapped her hands in delight. “We have an entire party already,” she added, eliciting a chorus of laughter from the group.

As they returned home later, the butler met them at the door. “This was delivered for you just moments ago, Miss,” he said, handing Emma a folded missive.

Emma accepted the letter, her heart skipping. When she saw the return address from Dorset, she released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Finally, George had remembered her.

Her hands trembled slightly as she unfolded the letter, her eyes eagerly scanning the words. But as she read, the color drained from her limbs. Shock and pain coursed through her, each word a cruel blow.

Dear Emma,

I write to you with a heart burdened by sorrow. After much contemplation, I find myself unable to proceed with our marriage. I fear I am not capable of committing to anyone, and it would be a grave injustice to bind you to a man whose heart cannot fully embrace the vows we are to take. I hope you can understand my position and find it in your heart to forgive me for this grievous disappointment. You deserve far more than I can offer.

With my deepest regrets,

George

These words swam in Emma’s mind, each syllable a dagger straight through her heart. She stood frozen, the letter slipping from her grasp, her breath catching in her throat.

“Emma?” Her mother’s voice was filled with concern as she crouched to retrieve the letter from the floor. Caroline looked up at her daughter, her eyes wide with worry. “Emma, what is it? What has happened?”

Emma could not speak, her throat constricted by a wave of emotion. She could only stare at her mother, her vision blurring. The future she had envisioned, the dreams she had cherished, shattered into pieces with George's words.

Her mother read the letter quickly. "Lord in heavens!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with shock. The next thing Emma felt was her mother’s arms gently wrapping around her, guiding her toward the drawing room.

"What is going on?" Her father’s voice rang out as her mother sat her limply on the sofa.

Caroline handed him the missive, and after what looked like a mere glance at it, he declared, “I knew it!” There was palpable excitement in his tone. “I warned you that something like this would happen. But you and your run-away Duke had to put on a show like some love birds,” he added.

Emma slowly raised her gaze to meet his, and she had never seen such a concentration of smugness in one person.

"Tristan, this is not what she needs to be hearing from you at a moment like this," Caroline ground out.

“You be quiet!” he spat back, his attention snapping back to Emma, his eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction. He regarded her like a vulture eyeing its newly discovered carrion. “I suppose we go back to the beginning now. I am sure the Marquess of Neads will be more than happy to accept your shameful return to him,” he added happily.

Emma’s heart clenched at his words. Caroline stepped closer to her daughter, her eyes blazing with protective fury. "Tristan, this is not the time for your vindictive satisfaction. Can you not see what this has done to her?"

He sneered. "It is a lesson learned. She ought to have known better than to trust in such frivolous notions as love."

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