Page 33 of Ruining the Duke's Wedding
The name struck Emma like a sharp note, dissonant against the quiet harmony of her world. “Evan?” she echoed, her disbelief evident.
Ophelia inclined her head, her curls gleaming faintly in the sunlight. “We crossed paths in Hyde Park. He... surprised me. We spoke for some time, and he encouraged me to find you. He thought it might do us both good to speak.”
Emma’s heart twisted, her mind reeling. “I had no idea Evan concerned himself with such matters. He barely speaks to me of anything beyond the day’s weather.”
A faint flicker of humor touched Ophelia’s expression. “At first, we weren’t speaking of you. I was lamenting my lot—the constraints of my parents, the choices taken from me, the mess of it all. But when your name arose... he made me see that my anger served only to deepen my misery.”
Emma’s throat tightened, her emotions catching like thorns. She reached for words but found them elusive. “Ophelia, I...”
“Let me finish,” Ophelia interrupted gently, lifting a gloved hand. “I have had time to think. I see now that my fury was misplaced. Yes, I was livid when you intervened in my engagement, but in truth, I know you acted out of love. Rashly, perhaps, but with the purest of intentions.”
Emma lowered her gaze, her fingers brushing the smooth surface of her papers as though for solace. “When I heard of your betrothal to Evan, I was horrified. I knew him to be a philanderer and I had seen him with another woman just the week before. I didn’t want you shackled to a man like this. But I acted rashly.”
“But out of concern for me.”
“Always,” Emma replied earnestly, her voice breaking. “Whatever my feelings for him were, they could never surpass my wish to see you safe and happy.”
A tear slid down Ophelia’s cheek, quickly brushed away with a gloved hand. “I was so angry, Emma—at you, at my parents, at the world. But I see now that you were the one who truly cared. I am sorry for the cruel things I said. You deserved none of them.”
Emma reached out, her trembling hand closing over Ophelia’s. “I have missed you, Ophelia. You were my truest friend.”
“And you mine,” Ophelia whispered, her smile tremulous. “I should never have let anger blind me to that.”
The merry sound of children’s laughter spilled in from the adjoining room, a light counterpoint to the heavy emotions between them.
“Shall we begin anew?” Emma asked softly, her voice laced with tentative hope.
Ophelia nodded, her voice equally fragile. “Yes, Emma. Let us start afresh. As for Evan – he is not the man you think he is. He did not have to encourage me to seek you out, but he did. Do not see your marriage to him as punishment. It is not.”
Emma gulped, wanting to ask what her friend meant but she did not, not wanting to diminish this moment between them.
The two young ladies clasped hands and Emma felt as if for the first time, the sun was peeking through the clouds that had covered her life for the last few weeks.
Not just because she was reunited with her friend, but also because Evan had cared enough to intercede. Evan had thought of her wellbeing – and in that, perhaps, was a chance that their connection could still grow beyond what Emma had ever thought possible.
CHAPTER 21
Emma
The storm raged outside, a torrent of wind and rain battering the windows of the grand estate. Thunder rolled in the distance, each crackle growing louder, nearer, until the glass panes trembled with its force. The hour was late, and most of the household had long since retired, the halls dark and quiet save for the occasional flicker of lightning illuminating the rich wood paneling.
Emma wandered through the dimly lit corridors, the hem of her nightgown whispering against the polished floorboards. Sleep had eluded her, her thoughts restless and swirling. Ophelia’s words from earlier in the week lingered in her mind, chipping away at the carefully constructed walls she had built around her opinion of Evan. She hadn’t seen evidence of his philandering ways, in fact, he found that often when he returned late from town he carried ledger, legal books and other things that indicated he had been working.
She had told herself, time and again, that he was no different from the other men of his station—a philanderer cloaked in charm and privilege. Yet, her recent encounters with him had begun to unravel that certainty. Twice this week, they had shared dinner, an arrangement initiated by Evan with unexpected civility. The first evening had been awkward, their conversation stilted and polite. Yet by the second, a tentative rhythm had emerged. Emma had found herself speaking of her days at the orphanage, the children’s antics, and the small joys of her efforts there.
Evan had listened with an attentiveness she hadn’t anticipated, his interjections thoughtful rather than dismissive. Once or twice, he had even smiled—genuine, fleeting expressions that softened his otherwise austere demeanor. She couldn’t deny that these moments had left her unnerved, unsure of how to reconcile the man she had believed him to be with the one she was beginning to see.
Her slippered feet carried her to the library, its doors slightly ajar. Pushing them open, she stepped into the cavernous room, the faint scent of leather-bound tomes and the lingering traces of pipe smoke filling the air. Shelves lined the walls, reaching up toward the high ceiling. The fire in the hearth had burned low.
“You’re awake late.”
The deep voice startled her, causing her to fumble the book. She turned swiftly, clutching it to her chest, her heart racing for reasons beyond the sudden interruption.
Evan stood in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the flickering light of the hallway sconces. His shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing strong forearms dusted lightly with ink—a mark of the late hours he had been working.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, her voice soft as she sought to compose herself. “I thought I might find something to read.”
His gaze flicked to the book she held, and a faint, amused smile curved his lips. “A romance?” he asked, stepping into the room. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who indulges in such... fanciful tales.”
