Page 72 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
“Emmeline!” It was Adam’s voice beside her, frantic and tortured.
She blinked, the world swirling into focus. He was sitting beside her, one hand on her arm as though to prevent her from moving further. The bright light was just sunlight filtering through the curtains, which had been drawn.
“Adam?” Her voice was husky, the tail end of his name a croak. “What are you doing here?”
“I came back this morning as I was supposed to. Do you remember, love?” He reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear but changed his mind at the last second, curling his fingers into a fist instead. “What do you remember? How is your head?”
She blinked, frowning, and raised her hand to the bump at the back of her head. Her body was bruised all over, but although the fall must have been considerable—she fell down thestairs—it seemed as though she only had minor injuries. No broken bones. Just the pain in her head and the knowledge that Nicholas had been the one to push her.
This knowledge would kill Adam.
But as his wife, as the victim, it was her responsibility to tell him.
“Your head,” he insisted, and she realized she hadn’t responded, merely stared at him as though he was speaking a different language. “Can you understand me?”
“Yes,” she said, and reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers. He was here. The relief was overwhelming. “Adam, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this.”
“Tell me what?”
“Yesterday—was it yesterday?”
“That you fell? Yes. Thank heavens the servants found you in time and called the physician. What were you doing, wandering around the east wing alone?”
A sick feeling curled in her stomach. “I was not alone, Adam.”
“What do you mean? Who was with you?” He put his other hand over hers. “What were you doing, Emmeline?”
“I was merely coming to put some flowers on your desk, but on the way…” She took a deep breath. “I saw Nicholas.”
Adam’s expression shifted from concerned to confused. His frown deepened, and his hold on her hand slackened a little. “I don’t understand.”
“It means that I didn’t fall, Adam. I was pushed down the stairs. And Nicholas was the one to push me.”
ChapterTwenty-One
Adam stared at his wife in bewilderment. Pushed down the stairs? By Nicholas? Surely that couldn’t be what she meant. But the way she was staring back at him, so serious through an eye so bruised that it looked almost black, told him she meant every word.
Then again, the physician had warned him that with head injuries could come some confusion. No doubt she was imagining things because she couldn’t remember what happened.
“Emmeline,” he said gently, holding onto her hand as she attempted to pull away. “You’re tired. And you hit your head. I think?—”
“Are you going to tell me that I don’t know what I’m saying, Adam?” She tugged her hand back, and he didn’t dare keep it for fear that she would hurt herself again. “Are you going to tell me I imagined the whole thing?”
“Nicholas wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, love.”
Frustration rose in his chest, but he did his best to keep his tone gentle. No matter the truth, this was what she believed. He could see it in her pinched lips and the hurt expression on her face.
She had been hurt so many times since she had first come here. And he hated that she was still hurting now.
“You don’t believe me,” she whispered.
“Why would he push you? Helikesyou, Emmeline.”
She pushed herself up in the bed, sitting up fully, and winced at the light. Immediately, he rose to close the curtains. “He can like me all he wants, but, Adam, he was in the house yesterday.”
“You say that, but no one recalls seeing him. Do you not think a servant would have seen him here if that was the case?”
“He was sneaking around the east wing, trying not to be seen. He did not alert any of the servants to his presence, and heknewyou were not here. In fact, he was hoping not to encounter me, I know it.”
