Page 47 of A Duke Reformed
Howard opened his mouth to speak, but she lifted a hand, not quite finished yet.
"As for you, Cecilia," Emma turned to her sister. "You will attend the next ball. You should. And you will dance. With someone you choose. I don't care if he is frightfully dull or drinks too much lemonade, just pick someone who does not make your skin crawl. I will be by your side all evening, as always, but I will not watch you wither into resentment. This is your debut Season."
Howard's scoff was loud enough to draw Emma's attention. "If you knew all these tricks so well, Emma, shouldn't you have beenable to get a man on your own by now, or you simply do not apply it to yourself?"
Emma felt the air in the room shift in that moment.
"That is exactly why I want nothing to do with this charade!" Cecilia chimed in, yelling. "Why would I give you the satisfaction of watching me barter myself just so you can feel accomplished, Papa? Look at how you speak of gentlemen and marriage like it's our responsibility to woo a man."
"I said enough!" Emma yelled again.
She stood in the center of the drawing room, breath trembling, her chest rising and falling too quickly, her wrist still aching from her earlier fall. The room seemed too small, too loud with all the words that had been hurled back and forth.
"I cannot do this anymore," she said, almost in a whisper. "I am so tired of standing in the middle of every argument. Of pretending it doesn't hurt. Of acting like a constable in my own home, breaking up fights, smoothing over pride, preserving the peace like it's some fragile china we'll all shatter if I don't hold it together."
Howard blinked, clearly thrown. "Emma–"
"I have emotions too, you know," Emma went on, not allowing him speak. "Even though I wish I didn't. Because they get in the way, don't they? They make me too sensitive or too careful or tooresponsible. And I'm sotired of being careful. Of trying to keep everyone else from falling apart."
The ache in her chest pressed against her ribs, but she pressed on. "I don't always want to be the buffer when you both decide to go at each other's throats. I'm exhausted. I'm frustrated. And I cannot be the peacekeeper and the good daughter and the good sister all at once. So, if you must fight, keep your voices down."
Quickly, she turned around making her way to her room. Her heart was pounding, her wrist was still sore, but it was the storm raging inside her chest that made her feel as though she might combust.
She shouldn't have shouted like that, she knew. But it was as if the words had clawed their way out of her, demanding release after being buried for too long. Deep down, she knew it wasn't just today's quarrel. It was all of it.
If they hadn't pushed her. If her father hadn't been so obsessed with appearances...if Cecilia hadn't shut down and withdrawn after their mother's death, Emma would not have had to fill every blasted gap in the household. She would not have found herself in this tangled chaos with Solomon.
If they hadn't needed her so much, leaned on her so constantly, she would never have been in this position to begin with. She would have never had reason to accept the deal with Solomon.
She would have never had to meet him.
And maybe... just maybe her heart wouldn't feel so bruised for it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"Emma? Are you resting?"
Emma lay sprawled across her bed, one arm draped over her forehead, the other limp by her side. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling above, its plastered patterns blurred by the thoughts swarming in her head. She laid, unmoving and blinking seldomly. She hoped that if she were motionless enough, her thoughts might settle too.
A soft knock, barely a whisper against the heavy door, preceded the gentle creak of its hinges. Emma heard Cecilia's question, but she couldn't bring herself to answer. About an hour had passed since the argument ensued downstairs, and Emma had used the time to think, and regret her outburst.
The bed dipped slightly under the added weight as Cecilia climbed in beside her. Emma didn't speak. She simply watched from the corner of her eye as her sister settled quietly beside her, lying on her back and joining her in the silent ritual of staringat the ceiling. Neither of them said a word. For a brief, fragile moment, the stillness between them was enough.
Minutes passed before Cecilia shifted onto her side and gently laid her arm across Emma's waist, pulling her into a soft embrace.
Emma stiffened at first, startled by the gesture. But slowly... hesitantly, she let herself sink into it, her body softening as the warmth of her sister's affection settled over her. It had been so long since anyone had held her without expectation, without words. Her throat tightened, touched by the simplicity of it, and she blinked back the sudden sting in her eyes.
The last person that had embraced her that tightly had been their mother. What seemed like forever ago.
"Thank you, Emma. For everything you've done for me... for all of us."
Emma blinked, unsure she had heard her correctly.
"I know it might not seem like it, but I see the things you do," Cecilia said softly. "I see how you pretend it's nothing when Papa pawns your belongings to settle debts or to buy me new dresses. I'd be lying if I said I didn't know how much you've given up or how often you've tucked your own feelings away just to keep this house from falling apart. I never said it before, but I see it, Emma. I always have."
Emma's lips parted, but no words came. Her heart twisted at the unexpectedness of it all. It was as though her heart had been desperate for those words. Cecilia's confession felt like a cold, soothing balm on the heat of her emotions. Yet, Emma kept her gaze fixed on the ceiling, afraid that if she looked at her sister now, the tears she'd been holding back would finally spill.
"I'm sorry," Cecilia added, her grip around Emma tightening just a little. "For leaning on you so much. For making you feel like you had to be the strong one all the time and shield me. I knew you had your own troubles but I still burdened you about Lord Pearlton and whined all the time."
