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Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Emma

T he carriage rocked gently over the rutted road as Emma gazed out the window, her mind whirling as they traveled back to the family estate. She hardly noticed Alexander’s presence beside her until he cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had blanketed their journey.

“Emma,” he began, his tone gentle yet firm, “are you quite certain this is what you want?”

She sighed, turning slightly to face him, though her eyes remained distant. “No, it’s not what I want, Alexander,” she replied, her voice softened by fatigue. “But it is what is right.”

Alexander’s brows knit together as he regarded her. “I understand your sense of duty, truly I do. But marriage… it is not a matter to be entered lightly. Especially not like this.”

“Of course, it’s not,” she replied, a touch more sharply than she intended. Then, softening, she added, “But we’ve discussed it, and it will serve the purpose. Once we are wed, all the whispers and sordid speculations will cease. I shall have the Duke’s protection, and society shall have no further cause to cast its judgment. His solicitor will contact you about arrangements tomorrow.”

After a brief silence, Alexander nodded. “Very well. We’ll announce your engagement at once and begin the reading of the banns in church this Sunday.”

Emma nodded, though the heaviness in her heart grew with each word. Three weeks of banns, three Sundays of hearing her impending marriage proclaimed from the pulpit, with all eyes on her. It felt as if she were marching toward a fate already written in stone, a script she could not alter.

Her brother glanced at her, his tone lightening as he offered, “Unless, of course, you’d prefer a special license. We do have some family connections to the Archbishop of Canterbury. It would allow you to wed sooner, if you wish it.”

A faint, humorless smile tugged at her lips. “No, I think not. I’ve no desire to rush into this any more than I must. Besides, the banns will allow word to spread, won’t they? In three weeks, society will have accustomed itself to the idea, and perhaps even come to find it rather ordinary.”

Alexander nodded, though she could see the lingering doubt in his expression. He was protective, and though his practical mind accepted her decision, his heart still questioned it. She appreciated that; it was a comfort she dared not acknowledge out loud.

“There is one thing, however,” she added, glancing down at her hands. “I cannot bear the thought of marrying at St. George’s, Hanover Square. It is His Grace’s parish. I… I can hardly walk by the place without a sense of shame.”

Alexander’s expression softened. “There’s no need to marry at St. George’s,” he assured her. “It’s not even our family’s church, after all. And I suspect he will not wish to wed there either. If he does, I will insist the wedding be held at St. James, our parish.”

She felt a sense of relief at his understanding. “Thank you, Alexander. St. James would be lovely.”

He offered a reassuring smile. “It’s settled, then.” His gaze softened, and he seemed to read something in her face that she’d not expressed. “Emma, I don’t doubt the world will be watching. But I’d wager you’ll have far more onlookers than you anticipate. The entire ton will clamor to attend your wedding—whether for the spectacle or, perhaps, in support.”

She shook her head with a humorless chuckle. “Perhaps I should prepare myself for a swarm of spectators, eager to witness my comeuppance. They may stop discussing what I did and focus on what I’m about to do.”

“Precisely,” he said, his tone warm with reassurance. “They’ll find a new intrigue, and you’ll find your peace, I hope.”

The carriage soon slowed as they approached their estate. Once they came to a halt, she slipped out of the carriage, her body moving almost of its own accord as she stepped into the familiar hall and made her way upstairs. The stillness of the manor surrounded her, a quiet she usually found soothing but which now felt almost too heavy.

Once in her chamber, she rang for Brigitte, who entered with her usual gentle smile and set about helping Emma change out of her traveling clothes. Emma caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and was struck by how pale she looked, her face bearing a gravity she had never seen before.

As Brigitte adjusted her gown, the maid’s brow furrowed with a hint of concern. “Lady Emma, if I may be so bold—how are you truly feeling about all this?”

Emma managed a tight smile. “I’m doing what must be done, Brigitte. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Yet even as she said it, her mind drifted back to the encounter she’d had mere hours ago in the Duke’s drawing room. It was absurd, she reminded herself, to think back to his face, the chiseled lines of his jaw, the shadow of stubble across his cheek, the eyes that had regarded her with such cool calculation—and, she hated to admit, a hint of something fiery, something thrilling.

No. She mustn’t entertain such foolish thoughts. He was the one who’d forced her into this corner. And perhaps—yes, perhaps he had been behind the rumors that had forced her into this position, the rumors that had sullied her reputation in such a way that marriage to him seemed her only salvation. She knew what Ophelia had told her – that her family had talked about Emma so much it was bound to get out – but she still wondered if he was behind it all after all.

Brigitte adjusted a pin in Emma’s hair, and Emma forced herself to focus on her maid’s hands moving deftly, securing each strand into place. The familiar, calming routine of it did little to dispel her inner turmoil.

Once Brigitte had finished, she offered Emma a tentative smile. “You’re doing the right thing, Lady Emma,” she said, almost as if sensing her mistress’s hesitation. “Sometimes what’s right isn’t what’s easy, but it’s still right all the same.”

Emma nodded, barely hearing her. She could still feel the Duke’s presence in her thoughts, an unshakable shadow. His words echoed in her mind, the dry sarcasm with which he’d accepted her proposal, the thinly veiled disdain in his tone. And yet, beneath his mockery, there had been something else—a subtle intensity, a spark of intrigue that she found as confounding as it was disturbing.

But she had to dismiss these feelings. They were nothing more than remnants of a strange encounter, the lingering tension of a decision that would soon be behind her. She was merely allowing herself to become entangled in the thrill of something unknown, something that ought to be insignificant.

Taking a steadying breath, she looked at herself in the mirror, meeting her own gaze with resolve. This was a path she had chosen, and she would see it through, no matter the doubts that lurked in the shadowed corners of her mind.

“Thank you, Brigitte,” she said, her voice firmer now. “That will be all.”

Brigitte curtsied and left, leaving Emma alone with her reflection. She could see a strange light in her own eyes, a glimmer of anticipation she didn’t dare acknowledge. With a shiver, she forced her thoughts back to the task ahead—the announcement, the banns, the marriage that loomed like a final judgment over her future.

No matter what foolish thoughts plagued her, she reminded herself that she was merely fulfilling her duty. Nothing more. And as long as she kept that truth firmly in her mind, she could survive this ordeal.

For this was the life she had chosen, and she would live it on her own terms—even if that meant denying herself the strange, dangerous thrill she felt whenever she thought of him becoming her husband.

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