Page 77 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
“Did you tell the Duke?” Aurelia pressed, her large blue eyes fixed on Emmeline’s.
All of a sudden, Emmeline felt as though she couldn’t breathe. Her throat closed up, and she took a few moments to answer.
“I did,” she said when she found her voice again. “But he thought I was merely confused and imagining things.”
“Well, of course, you must have,” her mother said briskly. “Come now, let’s get you settled in, and then you can look at the curtains. I quite declare, they are shocking.”
“Mama,” Aurelia insisted, linking her arm with Emmeline’s. “Perhaps we might save that for later. Emmeline has been traveling all day—have you not, dearest?”
Emmeline gave her sister’s arm a thankful squeeze. “Perhaps tomorrow, Mama. I confess, I have a headache.”
“Oh, then you must go to bed. Mrs. Walter! Where is that confounded housekeeper when you need her?” In a rush of perfume, her mother turned in search of the elusive housekeeper. “Make the Duchess’s bed up,” she commanded as soon as the beleaguered Mrs. Walters appeared. “How long will you be staying? Does he expect you to return?”
Emmeline’s stomach lurched. “At least a month,” she managed.
Originally, she had intended to return for the foreseeable future, but that was with the understanding that neither party liked the other.
Now, it was completely different. Emmeline liked him. More than liked him, in fact.
Was this separation to be forever?
Certainly, she was not going to be the one to write to him and apologize. And if she was ever to forgive him, it would not be for a long while.
Let him stew in what he had done. Let him feel the depths of his regret. Now that he had treated her like this, she no longer had the confidence to say that he harbored affection for her.
“Are you all right?” Aurelia whispered as they made their way up the stairs to Emmeline’s old room. “You seem pale.”
“I’m merely tired,” Emmeline said. “Do you believe me, at least?”
Aurelia averted her eyes. “It is a big claim to make, that Lord Sarron was the one to push you down the stairs. Such an act—can you say with all honesty that it happened just the way you said?”
“Yes! That is what I am telling everyone.”
Aurelia sucked on her lip. “I’m sure you believe it, but… What reason could he have to do such a thing?”
Because he was trying to conceal his presence.
Then again, how did Emmeline know that was what he was trying to do? She knew nothing for certain except he had risked her life and no one believed her about it.
What would have happened if she had perished? Was that his aim? Regardless, he had fled into the night, and no one even knew he was at the house.
“Come,” Aurelia said soothingly. “Everything will be better now that you are back at home.”
Somehow, Emmeline doubted it.
* * *
The next few days tested Emmeline’s resolve. Once, she had believed that coming home would solve all her problems, but in reality, it only added to them.
The curtains in the parlor were just as horrific as described, but the servants could do nothing about them unless they were given a greater budget. Something Emmeline had explained several times to her mother to no avail.
Because her mother was, despite all claims to the contrary, not particularly house-proud, standards had slackened inside the house. There was dust on the ornaments, and the fireplaces were not adequately cleaned.
Then there was the issue of her father.
He had married her mother many years ago, and his affection had long since burnt itself out. In fact, as far as the family went, he had largely checked out entirely—he enjoyed the occasional discussion with Emmeline and often asked her political questions for fun, but he mostly treated Aurelia as a pretty ornament.
Their mother, he treated more as a nuisance than a wife, and he often replied to her entreaties with dismissive contempt. For example, he dismissed the issue of the Almack’s vouchers and the opera box, and every subsequent effort to bring the subject up again was met with silence or a demand to stay quiet on the subject.
