Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33

" R elease my Duchess at once, Dewsbury, or I will make you regret your entire existence!"

Emma could hardly believe her eyes when George suddenly dismounted before them, his movements swift and purposeful.

Shock and disbelief flickered across her father's countenance as he reluctantly loosened his grip on her arm and took a step back. Emma instinctively massaged the mortified flesh, still reeling from the intensity of the confrontation.

"You cannot succumb to their threats so easily, Dewsbury," cried an indignant Neads, who also dismounted earlier, his voice trembling with outrage.

Alexander took a menacing step toward the old Marquess, his presence imposing and unyielding. Neads instantly shrank back, his confidence dissipating in the face of such a figure. Coward! Emma thought, her disdain for the Marquess only deepening.

The hate in Neads' gaze was apparent as he glared at them all, a hatred that mirrored the one in her father's eyes as he met George's equally intense ire. George looked as though he wanted to punch something to a pulp. Emma couldn't help but feel a slight apprehension for her father, despite everything.

George, with more self-control than she had credited him for in that moment, simply said to the Baron, "Take several steps away from her." Tristan obeyed, and George nodded. "Wise choice."

He immediately turned to her and made to draw her into his arms. Emma took a step back, shaking her head. "I don't understand," she said, her hurt and indignation warring with her shock. "Your letter made it clear you no longer wanted me. What is the meaning of this now?" she demanded, her voice trembling.

"Emma," George stepped closer, his eyes filled with sorrow. But she stepped away again, maintaining the distance between them.

"Explain yourself, George," she insisted, her voice rising as desperate tears pricked at her eyes.

At that moment, the rain fell heavier, as if the heavens were telling her to listen to him. The droplets mingled with her tears, masking the true depth of her confusion.

"Let us return home, Emma, and I will explain everything," George implored. "But I need to get you home first."

"I am not going with a man who does not want me anymore," she replied obstinately, her heart breaking anew. "You write to me with a thorough rejection, and you come to pretend to rescue me? What is the matter with you?"

"I never wrote a letter, Emma. Your father and Neads forged it," he declared, his tone firm and sincere. "It was a near perfect forgery, too, for your mother showed it to me when I went to the house."

Shock gripped her once again. She looked to Alexander, who was now helping an unhurt Antoinetta to her feet. He nodded in confirmation, his expression solemn.

Her relief was so overwhelming that Emma's legs nearly gave way beneath her. She immediately felt George's arms around her, steadying her, his touch warm and reassuring.

"Emma, please," he whispered, his voice filled with anguish. "I would never abandon you. You must believe me." She nodded, while he led her to his waiting horse.

Once she was atop and he had mounted behind her, George turned to Alex. "Take care of her lady's maid, then bring the Baron and Marquess to me."

Now Emma noticed that George and Alex were not the only gentlemen around them. There were others on mounts circling her father and Neads, preventing their escape.

Upon hearing George's words, Neads ran forward, attempting to flee. One of the gentlemen reared his horse as if to trample the Marquess. He fell back, landing in a puddle.

Emma would have laughed were she in a different state of mind. She felt George lean close to her, his warmth enveloping her. "You are safe, my love."

Releasing a shuddering breath, Emma allowed herself to lean back against him, deciding to trust him.

They arrived at the Seymore House before Alexander's party, and George carried her into the house in his arms. The moment they entered the front hall, Jane and Olivia rushed to them.

"Oh, thank goodness you are all right," the women echoed in unison, their relief so palpable that Emma felt a fresh surge of emotion tighten her throat. She realized then just how glad and relieved she was to see them.

"She needs warmth," George said urgently.

"Quickly, let us get you out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold," Jane ushered him toward the stairs, with Olivia close behind. He carried her to a guest bedchamber, but as soon as he set her down on her feet, Jane pushed him out and closed the door.

"When we received news of what was going on, George asked us to wait for him here, and to bring anything you might need," Olivia explained as she laid a frock out on the bed. "Because of the storm, Aunt Jane suggested we bring a change of clothing for you too."

"Fortunately," Emma said, moving toward the hearth and rubbing her hands together. "After these showers, I'm freezing," she confessed a little sheepishly.

"I am sure you did not take note of how cold it is while you were fleeing," Jane said with a pointed look as she helped Emma out of her drenched cloak and travel frock.

Emma chuckled. "One hardly feels such things when they are desperate."

"Indeed." Jane smiled. "We are very happy George found you early."

Emma never thought she would appreciate dry clothing this much as she smoothed down the skirts of the pretty pale blue morning dress that was Olivia's. It was almost a perfect fit, except for the bosom, which was a little too tight.

"Come." Jane moved toward the door. "George is waiting."

They returned downstairs to the sight of George pacing the drawing room, his agitation evident in every step. The moment he saw her, his demeanor softened, and he rushed to Emma, taking her hand and leading her to sit in a chair.

He kneeled before her. "Emma, I am so sorry I left without so much as a note," he said. "The trip had been unplanned," he added, looking slightly sheepish.

Emma's mind whirled with confusion and relief. "I don't understand... How did you know to return when you did?"

"I actually arrived in town shortly before dawn," he responded, his eyes never leaving hers. "And the moment I got in, Alex accosted me with questions I knew nothing of. He was ready to march me to the altar with a pistol to my back to marry you. Then he mentioned a certain letter…" He paused, his expression darkening with remembered frustration.

Emma felt a pang of guilt as she realized the chaos her father's actions had caused. "I cannot believe my father went that far," she thought aloud.

"I am not surprised," George said bitterly, his jaw tightening. "After the news, I left for your house at once, but the Baron was already gone when I arrived. Your mother was in tears when she gave me your letter."

Emma's heart ached at the thought of her mother's distress. "Oh dear," she murmured, guilt washing over her. "I never meant to cause such trouble."

"Your mother told me that a footman saw your departure and roused the Baron. Your father and Neads, fortunately, left a trail, and we followed it to find you," George explained. "I knew Neads was desperate for a handsome heir, but I did not realize the extent."

George's expression darkened, and he raised her hand to his lips. "I will make him pay for this. Your father I shall be slightly lenient with, but the Marquess shall disappear from society." Emma felt her eyes widen, for she had never seen George make such a strong avowal.

She had just opened her mouth to speak when a commotion erupted in the front hall. Moments later, Alexander appeared, shepherding the Baron and the Marquess into the room. Their hands were bound behind their backs, and they walked with sullen reluctance. Emma could feel the hate coming from the men, their eyes burning with malice.

George's anger resurfaced, his jaw clenched tightly as he rose and faced the men who had caused so much pain.

"Emma?" Her mother's frantic voice echoed through the hall. Caroline rushed into the drawing room, enveloping Emma in a tight hug the moment she saw her. Emma felt the warmth and comfort of her mother's embrace, and a fresh wave of emotion washed over her.

"I am so sorry, Mother," Emma whispered, her voice thick with guilt and relief. "I could not go on with it. I could not imagine a life married to him. I had to go."

Caroline pulled back slightly, her eyes filled with understanding. "I understand, my dear. It does not matter now. You're back safe and all right. That is the most important thing," she said, dabbing at her tears with a handkerchief.

George stepped forward, his expression softening as he addressed Caroline. "You've arrived just in time, My Lady," he said respectfully.

"Thank you for letting me know to meet you all here," Caroline responded.

George turned to Dewsbury and Neads. "Tell them what you did, Neads," he commanded, authority resonating in his tone.

The old Marquess glared at him for what seemed like an eternity before grudgingly speaking. "I wouldn't be the first man to forge a letter, and neither would I be last," he said, eliciting gasps of surprise and disapprobation from Olivia, Jane, and Caroline.

"Of course, I did not act on my own. Dewsbury here was just as involved in the forgery to make his daughter marry me," the Marquess added, now glaring at the Baron. "You incompetent fool! You couldn't even keep a leash on your own daughter!"

"Watch your words, Neads!" George's eyes flashing with anger.

The Baron's face twisted with resentment as he spoke. "Well, I only helped write the letter because Neads was paying me to marry Emma, while you had no intention of giving me a shilling, Seymore."

"Congratulations, gentlemen. You have successfully brought an end to your time in society," George said, his voice low and dangerous. "I will warn you two for the last time," he continued, his eyes narrowing. "Henceforth, if any one of you so much as enters the same room Emma is in, you will pay a price heftier than what I intend for you now."

With that, George gave a curt nod, and two of the gentlemen Emma had seen earlier came to drag them away. Her father's face was pale, while Neads gaped like a fish in need of water. The room erupted with exclamations of disbelief and lamentations.

George turned to the assembled group. "May I have a word with Emma in private, please?" he asked, his voice soft now. He dropped to one knee in front of her once they were alone. His eyes held hers with a raw vulnerability she had never seen before.

"First of all, I want to apologize again, Emma," he began, his voice trembling with emotion.

"Oh George, but you don't have to," Emma said, her heart aching at the sight of him so humbled before her.

"Do hear me out," he implored, and she listened, her breath catching in her throat. "When you expressed interest in my castle in Dorset, I realized it was in no condition to receive, much less house my Duchess, so I quickly traveled to put things in order and have some renovations commenced in time," he explained, his voice steadying as he spoke. "I did not ever think that the Baron and Marquess would seize the opportunity of my absence and try to force a marriage before my return."

"You wouldn't have known," Emma reassured softly.

He pressed a kiss into her palm. "The castle is named Grayward, but I believe it should be changed to Emton Castle, from your name."

Her lips parted and she blinked. "You cannot be in earnest!"

He laughed. "Oh, I am." He pulled her down into his arms, kissing both of her cheeks. "I am a man besotted, Emma. I want to name our castle after you and give you everything you can ever desire."

"Oh, George." Every painful memory disappeared in that moment, for Emma was finding where she belonged.

His expression grew serious. "After all that has transpired, we cannot trust the Baron with your mother. I took the liberty of arranging a house on the castle grounds for her to move into," he said, his eyes searching hers for approval. "That is if she will agree."

"Oh, I am sure she would love to," Emma answered on her mother's behalf, fresh emotion welling up within her at his thoughtfulness. She felt a wave of relief knowing her mother would be safe from her father's tyranny.

"Have I earned your forgiveness now?" He cocked one eyebrow as she asked.

"After all the trouble you went through, I shall contemplate forgiving you, George. But not yet," Emma teased as she made a show of pondering this.

George laughed. "Oh, but I need your forgiveness, Emma, as I need you to be my wife."

She playfully asked, "Why?"

"Because I love you," he replied, drawing her ever closer. "I love you, Emma," he repeated with such vehemence that she momentarily forgot how to breathe.

Am I dreaming again? she wondered in bliss, her heart pounding with a joy she had scarcely dared to hope for.

"I have loved you since the very beginning, Emma, and was only too cowardly to admit it, much less share," he added, his voice thick.

"You did not get in my way solely to protect Alex, did you?" she asked with a sly smile.

"You wish to see me entirely humbled before you, stripped of all my pride?"

"Yes," she laughed.

"I wanted you for myself. Yes, I had to protect Alex, but every moment you spent in his company drove me toward bedlam!"

Emma laughed again. "Oh, poor, George. Who knew love could make you charming?"

"I was charming before. It is why you fell for me," George said, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"I never said I love?—"

George silenced her with his lips capturing hers in a tender, sweet embrace. His kiss was soft and lingering, filled with a depth of emotion that spoke more eloquently than words ever could. Emma felt herself melting into him, her heart soaring with a joy she had never known.

She was free, at last!