Page 58 of The Earl's Christmas Deal
With that, the duke turned, his eyes searching the crowd just as Adam had done. He lifted a hand, and, like a ghost moving through the room, Emilia emerged and walked toward him. Her expression was impossible to read, utterly blank and devoid of feeling.
At the front of the room, her parents watched on with fond smiles. Lord Sternwood raised his glass, and the room all toasted the happy couple.
Adam stood stock still as the crowd began to applaud. The sights and sounds around him faded into a muted blur. He stood in a vacuum of nothingness, numb and utterly broken.
On the edge of his hearing, he thought he heard the faint chime of a pianoforte, a lively tune that splintered into being and was then cut off abruptly on a discordant note, the sound ebbing away, as though it had never been there at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Emilia held her glass aloft like an automaton, forcing a smile onto her lips and keeping her eyes above the heads of the crowd. She could not bear to meet Adam’s gaze.
“To the happy couple,” the crowd chanted, and glasses chimed around the room.
Emilia was not spared from seeing the reactions of the duke’s daughters, however, no matter how much she tried to avert her gaze. Their presence was like a dark shadow in the corner of the room, eating away at the merriment of the rest of the group.
The three girls were positioned at the front and to the side of the hearth. As the yule log burned ever more brightly and Lord and Lady Sternwood accepted many offers of congratulations, the duke’s daughters stood silently like statues, watching their father in apparent disgust.
Sophia was better at hiding her feelings than the others. Penelope looked revolted but was attempting to smile. Caroline was tearful, and Emilia could see her holding her older sister’s hand.
Sophia’s bright blue eyes, so like her father’s, met Emilia’s, and the hate and anger in them almost made her step back to hide behind the duke’s large body.
She ripped her gaze away, not wanting to see the unhappiness in his daughter’s eyes match her own. But as soon as she did so, her gaze alighted instead on the one pair of eyes she had dreaded. In the centre of the crowd, standing still as stone, was Adam Bentley. The usually soft and warm expression on his face was a mixture of horror and fury.Emilia’s heart lurched at the sight of it, and everything came crashing down.
There were voices all around her: whispers, sighs, and high, shrill laughs that cut through her brain like glass. She could not focus on anything, the blood pounding violently and loudly in her ears. She fought to keep herself upright, but there was blackness at the edge of her vision.
She imagined Adam striding forward, a mask over his face, his eyes cold and angry as he looked down at her as though she were nothing. Adam would look at her with pity and loathing and he walked from the room, never to be seen again. The thought wasa fresh lance of pain through her chest.
Her mother’s smiling face was on the edge of her vision, and Emilia knew, above everything else, she must uphold her honour. She could not be seen to let her mother down now. As far as her parents knew, their wildest hopes had just been made a reality. She could not let them down. Not again.
Emilia staggered to the side, her hand loosening from the duke’s grip. Elderbridge turned to her, his broad smile fading as he frowned. Slowly, the smile on his lips faded to a snarl of irritation as she felt herself stagger sideways again.
She had never swooned in her life, but with the emptiness in her mind, she knew that must be what was happening. Blackness was edging into the sides of her vision. It was as though time stood still, her own body moving as though through molasses, a syrupy slowness to her movements as she watched her hands flail wildly into the air in a wide arc.
She fell backwards into the oblivion that had finally come to claim her. The thought of it now was a welcome one. She longed to sink into the darkness of the world, to be lost to it where no one could find her and be at peace, away from the suffocating pain of losing Adam forever.
There were shouts and cries of dismay on the edge of her hearing as she felt her hip jar against the floor just before her head hit the cold surface. The pain was staggeringly sharp, and she sighed, trying to right herself and stand up again, but it was no use. She fell back, the coldness of the floor seeping into her skin as she lay helplessly on the ground.
The last thing she remembered was a shape above her and a hand cradling her head. Somewhere nearby there was a frantic voice, sheer panic in every syllable as it called for a physician. It sounded like the Earl of Bellebrook, but she knew that could not be the case.
Adam will never look at me again.
At the sight of her friend’s distress, Charlotte shoved her way through the guests, careless of the unhappy looks she received from those she removed from her path.
Emilia’s crumpled form hit the floor just as Charlotte reached the front of the hall, and she darted forward as a familiar and welcome presence arrived at her side. Lord Spencer strode forward, all authoritative composure, clearing a path for her to get to Emilia’s prone form.
Charlotte hurried forward, kneeling at Emilia’s side. She risked a glance upward at the duke, but he had already turned away and was speaking in a low voice to Lord Sternwood. Charlotte could have kicked him for his arrogant, disinterested expression.
Charlotte turned away, rage coursing through her veins at the man's audacity. If she could have dragged Emilia away from this place and never allowed her to set eyes on the duke again, she would have done it in a heartbeat.
In the next instant, Lord Bellebrook was kneeling beside her, leaning over Emilia.
In comparison to the duke, Adam’s face was ashen pale. His eyes searched Emilia’s face, and his hands fluttered over her as though unsure whether to touch her.
“We should get her to her room,” Charlotte said decisively as Lord and Lady Sternwood came forward, both of them frowning and looking genuinely concerned.
Charlotte bore them no ill will for what they expected of their daughter, but she was not going to sit by and allow them to give the duke authority over what happened to her friend. He was just the type of man who would command a room, and Charlotte did not believe he had any place in deciding what was in Emilia’s best interests.
“Send for a physician,” Charlotte said, about to say that a footman could carry Emilia to her room, but her voice died in her throat as Adam gallantly lifted Emilia from the floor.
