Page 52 of Three Scandals for the Wild Duke

“I do not recall myself saying that,” George countered with a light smirk, playing along with Alexander’s teasing.

“What were your words again? ‘Not bad’?” Alexander returned in ostensible thought, his voice dripping with feigned innocence.

“I rather doubt you’d like a tea that’s merely ‘not bad’, George,” he added slyly, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Despite the heaviness in his heart, George laughed in spite of himself. Alexander always knew how to lighten the mood, even in the most turbulent times.

The following morning, George found himself standing in the doorway, his arms crossed as he watched Emma and her family prepare to leave. The carriage was outside, horses ready, as they said their goodbyes to Alexander, Olivia, and Jane. Each farewell seemed to pull at something within him, a mixture of relief and regret tangling inside.

His gaze involuntarily followed Emma. He watched as she hugged Olivia warmly, then moved over to Jane. Alexander stepped forward, kissed her knuckles in a gentlemanly fashion, and offered his hand to help her up into the carriage. Just as she was about to step in, she paused and turned back, her gaze sweeping the courtyard before landing unexpectedly on him in the doorway.

He saw her eyes widen slightly, the surprise evident as their gazes locked. The distance between them was filled with unspoken words and unresolved tensions. George held her gaze, rooted to the spot, his heart pounding audibly in his chest. As she stared back, the air thick with myriad unspoken emotions, he couldn’t decipher if the look they exchanged carried threads of hatred or longing, or perhaps a tortured mix of both.

CHAPTER 21

When the butler closed the door behind Emma, a sense of finality settled over her like a heavy cloak. It felt as if she had indeed left a crucial part of herself back at that castle, her thoughts heavy with what might have been.

She glanced around the small foyer of their London townhouse and sighed deeply, the familiar surroundings feeling strangely foreign after the emotional turmoil of the house party. The suffocating journey back had taken an entire day, and while the carriage ride had been quiet and tense, now, at least, she was grateful for a momentary respite from her parents.

As she began to ascend the stairs to her own room, she passed her mother’s slightly ajar bedchamber door. The raised voices that sifted into the hallway halted her ascent. It sounded like an argument—a serious one.

Against her better judgment, Emma paused by the door, her curiosity piqued despite herself.

“Are we really going to do this right now, Tristan?” Her mother’s weary voice floated through the gap. “We’ve barely dropped our traveling coats after a long journey,” she added, her tone laced with exhaustion and frustration.

“I do not care!” Her father’s voice boomed back, filled with anger and impatience. “Another investment wasted. The money I spent on the journey to this house party… Her new dresses… All of it,wasted! Do you know what lengths I went to secure us an invitation in the first place?” He raged on, his voice growing louder with each word.

The voice of reason in Emma’s mind urged her to walk away, to avoid subjecting herself to the painful words that were sure to follow. Yet, her feet remained rooted to the spot, and she continued to listen, unable to tear herself away from the harsh reality unfolding behind the slightly ajar door.

“Youpromised she would make a match this time. But here we are, right back where we started, Caroline,” her father’s voice boomed, the disappointment palpable in his tone.

Emma had sensed the brewing storm during the silent, tense carriage ride back to London, and now it was clear that her mother was bearing the brunt of it.

“I’d had hopes, Tristan. I’d tried my best,” her mother responded in a small, defeated voice, the sound of it tugging at Emma’s heartstrings.

“Well, your hopes and best weren’t enough,” Tristan retorted harshly. “How do you intend to take responsibility now, woman?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the tense air.

A soft whimper echoed through the room, and then there was silence—a heavy, suffocating silence that seemed to stretch endlessly. Emma found herself holding her breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

“First, you fail to give me a son,” her father finally broke the silence, his voice laced with bitterness. “Then you give me a daughter, and now you cannot even marry off that waste of a daughter. What good are you then, woman?” His words were cruel, spoken with a venom that shook Emma to her core.

“I should have had a son, Caroline!” The Baron’s voice erupted once more, his anger seemingly boundless.

And her mother gasped in horror at his words, the sound of it piercing the silence like a knife.

“A man of my stature should have had a son!” he continued, his face graying.

Caroline raised her head, her eyes filled with a blend of defiance and despair, and Emma could only wonder what words would follow. “Tristan?—”

“Don’t you dare,” he cut her off sharply, his voice cold and cutting. “Don’t you dare call my name. You have no right. Youhave lost it. As you have failed as a wife,” he added, his tone venomous, each word laced with accusation and contempt.

The harshness of his voice, the utter lack of compassion, painted a vivid picture of the daily trials Caroline endured. His words were more than just insults; they were verbal lashes, stripping away dignity and self-worth with brutal efficiency.

Emma could bear it no longer. The pain of listening to such relentless cruelty was too much. She turned away from the door, her heart heavy and her spirit shattered by the weight of her father’s scorn not just for her, but for her mother as well.

Instead of retreating to her bedchamber as she had initially intended, Emma decided she needed to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the house. She was still quite weary from the trip, but the need to be as far away from her parents as possible overrode her fatigue.

Descending the stairs back to the foyer, she asked for her coat. As Antoinetta appeared with the garment, concern etched on her face, she asked, “Is all well, Miss?”

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