Page 2 of A Duke Reformed
Emma couldn't help but smile, grateful for her friends' efforts to distract her, even if only for a moment. But the smile faded as quickly as it came. "While I truly appreciate the gossip," she said. "I really must go. I won't calm down until I find Cecilia."
Lavinia reached out and squeezed Emma's hand. "We understand," she said gently."If we see her first, we'll make sure she stays here with us."
"Thank you," Emma said.
Hastily, Emma made her way out of the ballroom to search the other areas of the mansion. Alice and Lavinia were her only friends but Emma had noted how much had changed in the past few years. They were both married now, both to dukes. Alice... feisty and free-spirited Alice was the Duchess of Ravenmoor, and she was raising a child with the stoic Victor Terell. Lavinia, ever the gentle soul, was the Duchess of Hargrave, her growing belly a testament to the life she and Andrew were building together. They had both found their places in the world, their futures secure, their lives full of the kind of stability Emma could only dream of.
And then there was Emma herself. Nearly three-and-twenty, teetering on the edge of spinsterhood, her days consumed not by thoughts of love or marriage but by the relentless pursuit of funds for Cecilia's dowry. She knew it was a cruel twist of fate... that she shouldn't be the one to bear this burden. But Cecilia still had a chance, a better chance than Emma ever had. If she could secure a decent dowry, Cecilia might find a suitor this Season, someone kind and respectable who couldoffer her the life she deserved. Emma never really dreamed of love and companionship. She had seen firsthand what that had done to her father. Love was dangerous. It made people very unreasonable.
The cool night air was a welcome relief as Emma stepped into the garden, the noise of the ballroom fading behind her. It was a beautiful night, even more beautiful in that garden. She took in a deep breath, letting the tranquility of the garden soothe her frayed nerves. She wandered down a gravel path, her shoes crunching softly against the stones. The garden was huge, with hidden alcoves and winding trails. Emma wondered if Cecilia had sought refuge here and the thought gave her a flicker of hope. Perhaps Cecilia had simply needed a moment of quiet, away from the whispered judgments of theton. Emma could hardly blame her for that.
As she rounded a corner, she paused and scanned her surroundings. Certain she was alone, she closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the solitude. But just as she began to relax, a sound broke the stillness...a low, murmuring voice, barely audible but unmistakably human.
Emma's eyes snapped open, her heart leaping into her throat. She turned toward the sound, her gaze darting to a cluster of tall bushes nearby. The voice came again, deeper this time, followed by a soft mumble.
In a secluded corner of the garden, a man she didn't recognize stood with his back to her, his tall frame silhouetted against the moonlight. His broad shoulders and commanding presencewere unmistakable, even in the dim light. Before him stood a lady, partially obscured and her face hidden in shadow. From what she had seen, the lady seemed to have tripped and fallen over, and the man was holding her upright. But the two of them were standing close to each other now...too close, and the man held on to the lady firmly, steadying her as she stumbled slightly. Emma's stomach twisted with unease. Was this some scandalous tryst?
Or was the lady in danger?
Suddenly, the sound of approaching voices and footsteps reached Emma's ears, snapping her out of her thoughts. There seemed to be a group of people coming their way, their laughter and chatter growing louder with every step. Panic surged through her as she realized what would happen if they found a lady and this man alone together. The scandal would be unavoidable.
Her heart pounded as panic surged through her. For a moment, she thought to leave, so she didn't get caught and roped into...whatever they were doing, but she couldn't bring herself to do that. She knew how cruel society could be. So, without another thought, she burst from her hiding place, ready to confront the man and rescue the woman. But as the figure turned, the moonlight fell across the lady's face, and Emma's breath caught.
She squinted, unsure if she had seen properly, but then the realization struck her like a thunderclap, leaving her stunned and speechless.
It wasn't a stranger. It was Cecilia. Her sister.
Who was this man? What did he want with Cecilia?
"What do you want with my sister?" Emma demanded on reaching them. Her voice was sharp despite the way her chest heaved with panic. She stepped closer, her hands clenched at her sides, her gaze locked on the stranger's dark, unreadable eyes.
The man blinked, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion. For a moment, he looked almost startled, as though he hadn't expected to be confronted so boldly. "I... beg your pardon?" he said, his voice deep but hesitant, lacking the smooth confidence Emma had anticipated.
Emma's breath caught as she studied the stranger's face. His confusion was so real... so unguarded, that it took her aback. This wasn't the reaction of a man trying to take advantage of a young woman in a garden. This was the reaction of someone who had no idea what was happening, and that realization made her stomach twist.
She turned sharply to Cecilia, her gaze searching her sister's face for answers. "Cecilia," she said softly. "Are you all right?"
Cecilia's eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked like a child caught in a lie. Her hands twisted nervously in the fabric of her gown, and she glanced at the stranger, then back at Emma. Herlips parted as though she were about to speak, but no words came out of her mouth. Instead, her face flushed a deep crimson, and she looked away, unable to meet Emma's gaze.
"Emma, I... I can explain..." Cecilia stuttered, blinking rapidly.
"You can explain?" Emma questioned. "Why are you the one explaining?"
"I didn't," Cecilia whispered then turned to face Emma. "I wasn't thinking."
Emma's shoulders relaxed. It was all the confirmation she needed. The look in Cecilia's eyes...the guilty, desperate, and utterly terrified look told her everything she needed to know. Her sister was not the victim here. She was the orchestrator.
"Are you all right now, Miss?" the stranger asked. "I think you might need to sit down, if your leg still hurts."
"I'm...all right, Your Grace," Cecilia answered. "I merely stumbled, but it doesn't hurt that much. Thank you. You are so kind."
Your Grace?
Emma's heart sank as the truth settled over her like a heavy blanket. Cecilia hadn't stumbled. She didn't need assistance. This had been a plan... a reckless, foolish plan to trap the Duke of Montclaire into a scandal that would force him to marry her.
But despite Cecilia's efforts to appear flustered and in need of assistance, Emma could see the truth in her sister's eyes. Cecilia wasn't looking at the man with the soft, admiring gaze of someone smitten, or someone looking to seduce a man. Instead she looked scared. Her hands trembling as she clasped them together, glancing at him as though he were a predator and she his prey, her voice shaky when she addressed him.
It had definitely not been a well thought out plan.
