Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

P acing back and forth in his room, George grappled with the unsettling thoughts that swirled through his mind following his encounter with Emma in the orangery. He was unable to rid himself of the image of her under the moonlit sky, her hair loosely braided, her cheeks touched with a soft glow.

Stopping by the window, he shoved his fingers through his hair. What was happening to him? Why was he so affected by her? Why now more than ever?

Her plea for him to step aside so she could approach Alex had been desperate, almost palpable in its urgency, yet she offered no explanation. He couldn't help but suspect motives of social ambitions, though nothing in Emma's demeanor suggested she was capable of such scheming.

Her parents, however… They were the likely source of any manipulative designs. Yet, as he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to dispel the inappropriate warmth that thought of her stirred within him, he felt a troubling contradiction.

Was he refusing to believe her capable to scheming because she had captivated him? No, it could not be. There were women in England who were more…

No ! There was something about Emma that arrested his senses and held them captive, and until he had dealt with it, he might not be able to save Alex from her. He was certain that sleep would be a lost cause tonight, and thus, he sought to occupy himself with something else.

George walked up to his desk and opened a drawer, retrieving a wooden box. Slowly, he ran his fingers across the worn wood. "Eighteen years and we are still here," he muttered to himself.

Opening the box, he selected a paintbrush from the collection of nine. This had been his father's final gift to him, and he only used these brushes to paint his most significant works. He moved to a waiting easel and sat in front of it. As he mixed the colors, bright green eyes appeared in his mind, then long brown hair, followed by a laugh so beautiful he nearly dropped the brush.

Heavens! Could this woman not leave him be? His jaw clenched, he dipped his brush in the paint and raised it to the canvas, working in quick determined strokes.

I will not allow you any triumph, Emma, he thought to himself. I am the Duke of Seymore, and no one can hold me captive!

The following morning, George timed his breakfast to coincide with Emma's usual appearance, hoping to observe her in a more informal setting or perhaps engage in a light conversation that could shed light on her perplexing behavior. He descended to the breakfast room only to find it bustling with unfamiliar faces.

He chose a seat, poured himself some coffee, and waited as the room slowly emptied, each departing guest a minor disappointment as Emma never appeared.

Could she be evading him? George drained his lukewarm coffee and decided to seek her out. His concern over Emma's unusual absence from breakfast had deepened, mingled with a puzzling eagerness to see her again. He wandered through the salons and drawing rooms, finding each charmingly empty, until he eventually found himself back in the grand front hall.

"You look like you're looking for someone," Jane Amberton's voice caught him off guard. She was busy directing the housekeeper and some footmen about the arrangements for the upcoming soiree.

"Me?" George paused, caught mid-step. "Ah… No. No one at all," he lied, attempting to sound casual.

Jane dismissed the servants with a nod before turning to face him, her eyes narrowing slightly with a knowing look. "If you're looking for Miss Lovell, she's out riding, you know," she informed him, as if reading his thoughts.

George couldn't hide his surprise. "She is?" he blurted out, immediately regretting his lack of composure. It was indeed quite early for a ride; the thought added to his confusion.

"I thought you said you weren't looking for anyone?" Jane's eyebrow arched skeptically as she placed her hands on her hips, her stance echoing her disbelief.

"I wasn't," George cleared his throat, feeling somewhat sheepish under her scrutinizing gaze.

"Shamelessly lying now, are we?" Jane teased with a sly grin, clearly amused by his discomfort.

"Very well, Aunt Jane," he conceded, offering a resigned smile. He knew better than to try to fool her.

"She's out riding with Alexander," Jane suddenly added, her casual mention of this new piece of information causing George's heart to skip a beat.

"What?" He couldn't help the sharp response, his voice echoing slightly in the spacious hall. Why was she only telling him this now?

Jane's expression softened slightly at his reaction, her features molding into a semblance of sympathy. "Yes, they left just a short while ago. Seemed keen to enjoy the morning sun," she explained, her tone neutral but her eyes watching him closely, perhaps a bit too closely for comfort.

George felt a tightness in his chest at the thought of Emma out riding with Alexander, alone. This was exactly the sort of situation he had hoped to avoid. His protective instincts, already finely tuned, now edged toward alarm. He needed to see for himself, to ensure that everything was as innocent as it appeared. With a curt nod to Jane, he excused himself, stepping briskly toward the stables, his mind racing as much as his heart.

"The Baroness suggested a ride at breakfast. And Olivia was most excited to get some air too, so Alex obliged," Jane elaborated, a hint of curiosity in her tone. "I must say, the Baroness seemed rather insistent when she suggested to Alex to take Emma out riding," she added, almost as an afterthought to herself.

"Of course, she would be," George mused, something uncomfortable settling over him. He could not shake the feeling that there was more to the Baroness's insistence than mere pleasantries.

"What?" Jane asked, perplexed. Her eyebrows knitted together as she regarded him with concern. George realized just how dubious he sounded.

"Oh, nothing, Aunt Jane," he dismissed, placing a quick kiss on her cheek before turning on his heels. The last thing he wanted was to worry her with his suspicions.

"If you hurry, you just might catch them not too far away," she called out after him, her voice carrying a note of encouragement.

George did not waste a moment. He had a horse saddled in the stables before galloping out as quickly as the beast could carry him. The landscape blurred past him, but his mind was fixed on one thing: reaching Emma and Alex.

As he approached the edge of the estate, he finally spied their party. They had stopped, and Alex was talking animatedly, his gestures broad and confident. Emma's laughter rang in the air, clear and joyous.

Something heavy sank in George's stomach before twisting unpleasantly. She seemed comfortable with Alex, he observed. Too comfortable.

"Such tardiness, George. You should be ashamed of yourself," Olivia teased when he finally slowed down beside them.

"My invitation was just as late," George said, giving Alex an almost accusing look.

"Ah, it was a most spontaneous decision," Alex chuckled in turn, his laughter light but unconvincing.

A forced one too, perhaps, George thought, recalling what Jane said about the Baroness's insistent suggestion at breakfast. His unease deepened, but he masked it with a polite smile.

He let his gaze travel to Emma. A slight pink stained her cheeks, and George thought that she looked somewhat apprehensive. Her mirth had died down upon his arrival.

He did not like this. He was suddenly struck with a desire to change that. To make her laugh as Alexander had. To keep the smile constant on her face.

"How about a race?" he suggested, his voice infused with a newfound enthusiasm. As anticipated, her eyes lit up, although she clearly tried not to show much of her excitement.

There was something suddenly dubious about her too as she leaned into him and whispered, "What game are you playing at now, Seymour?"

"Horse racing," he gave a deliberate shrug, his expression innocently nonchalant.

Emma glared at George, but underneath, he saw humor, and it thrilled him. There was a spark in her eyes that he had missed, a spark he was determined to keep alive.

"Before we start, what's in it for the winner?" she asked, her tone challenging, but her lips twitching with a suppressed smile.

"Satisfaction?" George shrugged again, the simplicity of his answer belying the complexity of his feelings.

"Not enough," Olivia, who was suddenly excited about the race, shook her head, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Surely you do not think that I'll race without anything in it for me, Your Grace?" Emma quirked a sly brow, her playful challenge unmistakable.

"Indeed," Alexander chuckled his agreement, his amusement evident as he looked between George and Emma.

"You sound certain that you'll win," George challenged her, a competitive edge creeping into his voice.

"I like to remain optimistic," she returned slyly, her confidence unwavering.

"Good spirits, Miss Lovell. Good spirits," Alex praised. She turned that shade of pink at his compliment once again, and George felt his jaw clench. He did not like the way she responded to Alex.

"Fine. What do you want?" he asked, his tone more brusque than intended. Anything to get her attention away from Firman, he thought to himself.

She pursed her lips in thought before she responded, "A wish."

"Granted," he said, eager to see her smile directed at him once more.

They made to take their positions. George was about to turn his mount into position when he remembered his manners and paused.

"Is everyone in agreement with the terms of the prize?" he asked Olivia and Alexander, his voice carrying over the excitement of the moment.

They nodded as they assumed positions, their expressions eager and competitive. George counted to three before they spurred their horses and tore through the fields, the thrill of the race coursing through him.

Alexander quickly took the lead, his form perfect, his confidence unshakeable. He had always been an excellent equestrian. Where George had spent his childhood before a canvas, Alex had spent his in the stables and on the fields.

George wasn't too far behind him as he galloped on to catch up. He glanced back and was shocked when he saw Emma a few feet behind him, catching up at an alarmingly fast pace too. She was good. He'd had no idea. Most impressive indeed, he thought.

"You look in shock, Your Grace," she called out to him, her voice clear and teasing despite the wind.

"You're probably seeing things, Miss Lovell. A distortion of the wind," George called back, his tone light yet competitive.

"It wouldn't hurt to admit that you're impressed, Your Grace. I'll keep your secret," she teased. The wind carried over Olivia's laughter from behind Emma.

"It seems like I'm getting that wish after all," Emma caught up to him, her eyes sparkling with determination.

"Firman is leading. Not you," George pointed out. "And not for long too," he added, spurring his mount and racing after his friend. But not before he'd caught a look of apprehension on her face. Was she supporting Alexander too? George was not impressed.

The race was most enjoyable despite the outcome of it. It was as he'd expected, however. He'd never been able to beat Alexander at a race after all.

He doesn't care that he lost. He never has, but something is niggling him. Emma let out a delighted squeal as they finally reined in their horses, her laughter infectious and bright.

"Well done, My Lord!" she praised, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"Thank you, Miss Lovell," Alexander replied, bowing his head slightly. "It was a fine race indeed."

George dismounted, his eyes still on Emma. "You rode splendidly," he said, his voice sincere despite the underlying tension he felt.

Emma smiled, her earlier apprehension seemingly gone. "Thank you, Your Grace. It was quite exhilarating."

George frowned when she turned and smiled at Alexander. In fact, he thought that he'd never seen her quite so excited before. He pushed down something bitter that rose to his throat at the sight of her praising Alexander and congratulating him.

To his surprise, however, his irritation dissolved the moment she met his gaze with a bright grin on her flushed face. He quite liked seeing her smile, he realized.

"That was a worthy match," he said, feeling a smile take over his own features.

"I never saw a man so pleased by his failure," she quirked a teasing brow, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Oh, I failed not, Miss Lovell," he said, his tone light and playful. "In fact, I gained something," he added. I gained your smile , he thought to himself.

"Pray tell, what did you gain?" Her curiosity was palpable, and she leaned in slightly, her interest piqued.

"Ah, but if you'd won, I would have answered your question," he winked. She gave a petulant pout in protest, her lower lip jutting out charmingly. He burst out laughing, unable to contain his amusement.

Alexander and Olivia joined in the laughter.

Although she was the subject of their teasing, Emma laughed with them, her eyes sparkling with genuine delight. George couldn't be more pleased.

At that moment, he felt a sense of triumph that had nothing to do with the race and everything to do with the joy radiating from Emma.

George found himself inexplicably elated throughout the remainder of the day. He hadn't been able to stop smiling since their race earlier. Memories of Emma's smile and the sound of her laughter filled his mind as he went about preparing for dinner.

He was down early and positioned himself in clear view of the drawing room door in anticipation of her arrival to await the announcement for dinner along with the gathered guests. His gaze refused to waver from the door as a number of ladies walked in and out. The clock ticked, and just when he began to despair of her arrival, George heard himself take in a sharp breath. He forgot how to exhale as he watched her walk into the room.

She was dressed in a pale green satin evening dress, and her hair was adorned with a quaint gold and jade tiara. She was a gift of nature, graceful and regal in every movement.

George started toward her, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and admiration. But before he could get to her, Alexander did. George watched with an unpleasant taste in his mouth as his friend kissed her gloved knuckles and asked to escort her to dinner. She blushed and accepted.

George felt his jaw clench.