Page 97 of A Widow for the Beastly Duke

“Forgive me,” she murmured, closing the book with a decisive snap. “I find myself rather distracted today.”

Joanna, seated on her other side, exchanged a meaningful glance with Annabelle. “You have seemed distracted for several days, my dear. Ever since?—”

“The Duke’s departure,” Annabelle finished with her characteristic directness. “Though I suspect there is something more immediate troubling you now.”

Emma hesitated, acutely aware of the curious glances being cast in their direction.

“Perhaps we might continue this discussion after the meeting concludes,” she suggested, forcing a smile that felt brittle on her lips.

Annabelle nodded, though her shrewd gaze suggested she would not be easily diverted once privacy was secured.

* * *

When the final farewells had been exchanged and the last carriage had departed, only Emma, Annabelle, and Joanna remained in the drawing room, the latter having closed the door with a decisive click that signaled her expectation of complete candor.

“Now,” Joanna said, removing her spectacles and fixing Emma with the penetrating gaze that had intimidated generations of drawing-room gossips, “you will tell us precisely what has occurred to render you so utterly distracted that you failed to notice Mrs. Pennington proposingThe Lustful Turkfor our next discussion.”

Despite everything, Emma heard a startled laugh escape her lips. “Surely not!”

“Indeed,” Annabelle confirmed, a hint of mischief lightening her concerned expression. “The dear lady was attempting to suggestThe Castle of Otrantobut became flustered when no one corrected her initial misstep. You, my dear friend, were a thousand miles away, and I was too amused to intervene.”

The momentary lightness faded as Emma contemplated the trust represented by these two women—Annabelle, whose own experiences with betrayal had left her wary but not defeated, and Joanna, whose quiet strength had sustained Emma through the darkest days of her marriage.

“Sidney knows,” she said finally, the words falling like stones into the stillness of the room. “About Victor. About… the lessons… and my feelings for him. He knows everything.”

Joanna’s expression tightened. “How?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps he has his sources—a bribed footman, perhaps, or one of the stable boys. It hardly matters. He has threatened to confirm the rumors to the ton unless…” Emma faltered, the ugliness of Sidney’s proposition sticking in her throat.

“Unless you become his mistress,” Annabelle concluded, her voice flat with disgust rather than shock. “The man truly is despicable beyond measure.”

Emma nodded, her hands twisting in her lap. “He has invited me to a ball at his new estate on Saturday. Afterward, he expects me to…”

She could not complete the sentence, but her meaning was clear enough.

Joanna rose abruptly, pacing the length of the drawing room with uncharacteristic agitation.

“This cannot stand,” she declared, her normally measured voice vibrating with outrage.

“If I refuse, a scandal would break out, and it would destroy Tristan’s prospects irrevocably.”

“Then we must find another way,” Annabelle insisted, her blue eyes flashing with determination. “Perhaps if we approach the Duke?—”

“No!” Emma’s vehemence surprised even herself. “Victor has made his position perfectly clear. He wants nothing more to do with us. And even if he did… this is my burden to bear, my responsibility.”

Joanna returned to her seat, taking Emma’s cold hands between her own warm ones. “My dearest girl, you have shouldered far too many burdens alone. Allow those who love you to help carry this one.”

Emma felt tears prick her eyes and blinked them away fiercely. “What would you have me do? If I refuse Sidney, he will ensure that Tristan is ostracized from every decent household in England. If I agree to his demands…” She shuddered, unable to complete the thought.

“There must be a third option,” Annabelle said firmly. “Some way to neutralize his threat without subjecting you to his… attentions.”

“Perhaps,” Joanna suggested carefully, “a strategic retreat might be advisable. A visit to relatives abroad, perhaps, until this situation can be addressed more thoroughly.”

Emma shook her head. “Sidney is Tristan’s legal guardian until he reaches his majority. Any attempt to remove him from England without that man’s consent would be viewed as kidnapping.”

A heavy silence descended as the three women confronted the reality of their society—a world in which a woman’s reputation, once compromised, became an irrevocable sentence; a world in which a child’s prospects could be destroyed by whispers; a world in which men like Sidney Bickford wielded power with casual cruelty, secure in the knowledge that the system was designed to protect their interests above all others.

“I shall attend the ball,” Emma said finally, the decision crystallizing even as she spoke the words. “I shall smile and dance and play the role expected of me. And afterward…” She drew a steadying breath. “Afterward, I shall find a way to ensure that Sidney never threatens my son’s future again.”

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