Page 50 of Ruining the Duke's Wedding
Emma hesitated, folding her hands in her lap. “There is a difference between acting in defense of someone you love and rounding them. Some anger is misdirected, other anger is justified. You’ve never turned on someone you care for, have you?”
Evan leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he turned to face her fully. The firelight danced across his features, highlighting the faint stubble on his jaw and the deep blue of his eyes. “No, never.”
“Then why do you think you will become your father when you have been the opposite thus far?”
“I do not know. I suppose fears are irrational, are they not?” he said, and she nodded.
“I never would have thought you did not want to marry because of this. I thought that it was because you did not wish to give up your wild ways. Or that you would marry for show, so you could have a wife to show off while still taking part in your rakish ways.” She hesitated, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I thought you were still… that you still had dalliances,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Whenever you went to town, I wondered if you were meeting someone.”
His brows drew together, and for a brief moment, his gaze flicked away. Emma’s heart sank. It was such a small movement, but it was enough to plant a seed of doubt in her mind.
“There’s nothing,” he said, his voice firm as he returned his gaze to hers. “No one. Not for a long time.”
She tilted her head slightly, searching his expression. “Not since Ophelia?” she asked.
His jaw tightened briefly, and he nodded. “Not since Ophelia. There were… fleeting moments before her, yes. Dalliances. But nothing of meaning. Nothing lasting.”
Emma considered this, her heart torn between relief and lingering uncertainty. “What about the woman at Hyde Park?” she pressed. “I saw you with a woman not long ago, it is what made me so sure you’d only hurt Ophelia.”
Evan’s expression clouded with confusion for a moment before he shook his head. “I don’t know who you mean. There are always acquaintances, people who expect me to play a certain role—flirtatious, charming, fun-loving. But that’s all it is. A role.”
There was a sincerity in his voice, a weight to his words that Emma couldn’t ignore. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she felt it—an unshakable certainty that he was telling the truth.
“I believe you,” she said softly, almost surprised by her own admission.
His expression softened, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. “Thank you,” he murmured.
The room fell quiet again, the fire crackling softly as the rain continued its steady rhythm against the windows. Emma glanced toward the flames, her thoughts swirling.
“Why now?” she asked after a moment, her voice barely audible over the storm. “Why tell me all this now? Why go to the orphanage? Why defend me?”
Evan exhaled, his gaze dropping to the floor. He was silent for so long that Emma wondered if he would answer at all. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost hesitant.
“Because I can’t deny it anymore,” he said. “You’ve made me feel things I never wanted to feel. Things I thought I’d buried a long time ago.”
Emma’s breath caught, her heart hammering in her chest as his words sank in.
“The truth is, I think about you all the time,” he continued, his gaze lifting to meet hers. “I don’t want us to be at odds, Emma. I don’t want this… distance between us. I want us to be united.”
His hand lifted, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. The touch was light, tentative, but it sent a jolt through her that she couldn’t ignore. His fingers lingered for a moment before cupping her face, his thumb brushing gently along her cheekbone.
“You deserve to be cherished,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I want to be the one to do it.”
The weight of his words, the sincerity in his eyes, left Emma breathless. For a moment, all she could hear was the rain againstthe windows, the steady thrum of her own heartbeat. Then, before she could second-guess herself, she leaned forward, closing the distance between them.
Their lips met in a kiss that was soft, tentative at first, but it quickly deepened, a slow, searing warmth that spread through her chest. The world seemed to fade away—the storm outside, the crackle of the fire, everything but the feel of his lips against hers and the steady, reassuring weight of his hand on her cheek.
When they finally broke apart, Emma’s thoughts were a jumble, her heart racing. For a brief moment, she thought of the letters in her chamber. Rose. But she pushed it aside. Whoever Rose was, she didn’t matter. Not now. Not here. Not anymore.
Evan’s gaze searched hers and he tipped up her chin. Without a word, Emma leaned in again, her hand sliding to rest against his chest as their lips met once more. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, a silent promise exchanged between them.
As they pulled away, Emma rested her forehead against his, her hand still pressed to his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palm was a soothing anchor, grounding her in the moment.
“I don’t know what the future holds,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “But I know this—I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”
Evan smiled—a rare, genuine smile that softened his features and made her heart ache. “Nor do I,” he said, his voice low and steady.
For the first time in a long time, Emma felt a flicker of hope. As the storm continued to rage outside, she found comfort in the warmth of the fire, the steady rhythm of the rain, and the quiet strength of the man beside her.
