Chapter 7

7

“You’re Lady Bardsley…Why did you lie to me?” the Duke of Loxchester demanded.

His face was as cold as stone in the yellow glow of the carriage’s gas lamps above their heads. The rattle of the wheels against the cobblestones was loud in Emma’s ears, but it did not drown out the roar of anger inside of her, or lessen the heaviness of her humiliation.

“You wanted me to be a swineherd’s wife, didn’t you?” she said.

His jaw was set, his nostrils flared. “Why were you dressed like one if you’re a lady?”

“It was my husband’s way to punish me for my disobedience.”

“Ah! I can certainly see your disobedience.”

Shock mixed with hurt stabbed through her. “Excuse me?”

He leaned his elbows against his knees, his eyebrows drawn. “He must have had a true reason to try and get rid of you. You’re a liar.”

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The disdain in his voice, his sharp words. A liar? He had no idea how she hated pretending the way she had to. All to escape the marriage that had felt like a prison.

Only to land in another one—with him.

And how could she have thought the duke was different? He wasn’t.

She must leave now. Surely, now that he thought so little of her, he wouldn’t want her anymore. “Please, let me go.”

His eyebrows drew even tighter together, and two lines formed around his mouth in a pained expression. “I will not. I told you, you’re mine now.”

The walls of the carriage shrank around her like a cage. It was hard to breathe. “Why? I am a liar. I’m not a swineherd’s wife as you thought I was. What use am I to you now? I do not want to be married at all.”

He leaned back against the seat and groaned. “For tonight, you certainly are.”

Tears burned her eyes, and she knew if she said another word, she’d cry before him. And she couldn’t. She wouldn’t show him her weakness. The rest of the trip home they spent in silence, and all she thought about was how she could escape.

When she was in her room, she threw herself on the bed. She refused to cry, even if tears burned her eyes and her chest felt so tight she may suffocate. Instead, Emma stood up and began pacing to calm herself. She went to the dressing table but couldn’t even sit down. She clutched at the edge of it as tears won and violent sobs shook her body.

She didn’t know how much time passed when someone knocked and the door opened. Emma hastily wiped her tears and looked over her shoulder. It was the Duchess of Loxchester.

“What happened?” she asked as she froze in the open doorway. Her diamonds sparkled in the candlelight. “I saw you and Sebastian leave the ball so quickly. Are you finally coming to your senses?”

Emma shook her head and took a deep breath in. “Forgive me. You were right. I should not be here. And I do not want to be.”

The duchess nodded, sighed, entered, and softly closed the door behind her. She came to Emma and looked into her eyes with sadness. “He’ll never fall in love with you. Sebastian is the sort of man that will never allow himself to love.” Bitterly, she added, “His father and I gave him a poor example.”

He’d never allow himself to love. That shouldn’t matter to her. He’d just shown her he was just like Sir Jasper, and he still wouldn’t let her leave this golden cage. And why oh why did the thought of leaving make her stomach twist painfully?

“So, why wait?” the duchess said with a sad smile. “Leave now, dear. You tried the fairy-tale life, but you and he simply don’t belong. It was clear to me, as to you, no doubt, that this wouldn’t last. Don’t wait another minute.”

Then she turned around and left.

Why did he still want her to stay? He’d told her she was a liar. He’d told her Sir Jasper was right to have sold her. And now his own mother had told her he didn’t have the ability to love.

And still, that glimpse of hope for love that she’d seen with him… How silly of her.

It was her naive, childish dream that Sir Jasper had shattered. The dream of a happy marriage. She still longed for love, but she should just accept that it would never be. Not with Sir Jasper. Not with the duke.

That was it, Emma decided. The duchess was right. She was going, even though part of her felt strangely sorry to leave Sebastian. She dressed in the day gown that Madame Dubois had made for her. She had no possessions, but she needed money to escape. She felt too ashamed to go to her family. Her reputation was damaged now, but also, she had agreed to the sale knowing Sir Jasper wouldn’t give her family the income they were entitled to in her marriage settlement if they were no longer married. Even though the lands that were promised to her father were already sold, Sir Jasper might have been convinced to offer them some other income instead, especially if she’d given him what he wanted.

But that was in the past now. She needed to start a new life. Perhaps she’d go to Scotland or to Canada and become a governess. Her reputation wouldn’t be a problem there—she’d come up with a new name.

Sir Jasper would never find her. Sebastian wouldn’t care to.

Shame burned her at the thought of stealing something. But what else could she do? And then once she’d start to get some wages, she’d beg Sebastian’s forgiveness and would pay him back.

But first, she needed to run.

* * *

Sebastian paced, staring at the door between his and Emma’s bedrooms.

He felt horrible about the fight in the carriage and how he’d behaved towards her. It must have been awful for her to be married to Sir Jasper.

He remembered now the strange details of their appearance he’d ignored at Clovham. The man had a cleanly shaved chin and fashionable sideburns, and no dirt, no dark circles under his eyes, or weathered skin on his smug, arrogant face. Lady Bardsley did not hunch or hide. Her back was straight and her shoulders down. A white cap covered her dark curls that were quite beautifully arranged. And, of course, she spoke like a lady, not because her mother was a lady’s maid and she was good at imitating. That was such a weak explanation.

Sebastian growled. He should have questioned all that. It was all right in front of his nose.

But that aside, what a prig was Sir Jasper. There was no excuse for a man to punish his wife by humiliating her and selling her.

To anyone…

The whole thing reminded him of his childhood.

The only time he’d received any attention from his parents was when he did something wrong. When he did things right, no one acknowledged him. But when he rebelled and made trouble—ran away from his governor, broke and damaged things—Mother stayed with him longer. And even though she chastised him, she at least acknowledged his existence. His father said things like “You’re like a punishment from God” and “Why have I been saddled with such a terrible heir?” And several times, he’d slapped Sebastian.

And although it had made Sebastian feel seen, it had also made him feel despised.

He’d made them so unhappy he’d driven them to cheat on each other. They were always annoyed because of his unruly, childish behavior. Their anger with him was slowly destroying their relationship.

And then everything exploded one day when he was eight years old. The event he didn’t want to remember because he was ashamed of his actions. Of his stupidity.

It was all his fault.

And now, he had behaved like his papa towards Emma, made her feel horrible about herself. But he never wanted her to feel that way.

He needed to tell her that. He opened the door between their bedrooms.

“Forgive me—” he started, but stopped in silence, staring at the empty room.

Where was she? His stomach dropped. He’d seen her come upstairs after they returned.

He ran all the way downstairs, to the kitchens. “Standen!” he yelled from the stairs. “Standen!”

The plain walls of the basement flashed by as he hurried. There was a scraping of the chairs in the servants’ hall as people jumped to their feet.

Astonished, Standen appeared in the hall. “Your Grace?”

“Where’s my wife?”

“Jack drove her. She was in quite a hurry.”

“Damnation!” Sebastian cursed. “Forgive me, Standen. Please tell Oliver to prepare a carriage for me.”

“Very good, Your Grace.”

Sebastian nodded and ran back upstairs. Hurried footsteps sounded, and his mother appeared in her dressing gown. “Ah! Sebastian! Where’s Mrs. Eastbrook? One of the maids must be a thief! I’m missing my precious jewelry box, the one with the mother-of-pearl cover… It’s very, very important to me!”

She clutched her hands in distress, panic distorting her features.

“Why is a simple jewelry box so important to you, Mama? I’ve never seen you so distressed in your life.”

“Where’s Mrs. Eastbrook?” she cried.

But he couldn’t bring himself to care about a missing jewelry box. He felt like he couldn’t breathe without Emma nearby. He’d known her for less than one week, and yet without her, it felt like the light had gone out and he was in darkness.

Ignoring his mother, he ran out the front door, ready to hurry after his wife the moment the carriage was ready.