Page 16 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
She lowered her gaze, and thankfully, she no longer seemed on the verge of tears. “If you must.”
“I theorize that the man you are interested in is more interested in your sister.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she reacted as if he’d slapped her. “How—” She cut herself off and folded her arms over her chest. “I am not interested in you, Lord Ashford.”
“I know.” His gut tightened, and he told himself it wasn’t disappointment. If the rumors were to be believed and she indeed wanted love, then he was the last man for the job. Still, he moved closer and lightly touched her gloved forearm. The warmth of her body radiated through the fabric, and he was seized by the impulse to pull her closer.
He did not.
“I’m sorry,” he said instead and removed his hand. The touch was fleeting, and yet it impacted every part of him.
“Thank you.”
To his surprise, she seemed to mean it.
“Please let me pass.” Her voice was low. “If someone comes upon us, neither of us will enjoy the results.”
She was probably right, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. At least, not yet.
He glanced sideways, making sure they were alone. “Not all men will prefer Violet.”
The loose curls bracketing Emma’s face swayed as she tilted her head. A light had appeared in her eyes, and it made him nervous. It was… hopeful. As if she thought perhaps he preferred her to Violet.
Damn. This wasn’t at all what he’d intended.
“You’re right,” he said. “I should leave.”
As he beat a hasty retreat, he caught a glimpse of her crumpled expression, and guilt lanced through him. He’d been trying to help, but it seemed he’d only made her more miserable.
CHAPTER 5
Emma laughed through gritted teeth.The duke had escaped so quickly that anyone would have thought the devil was on his heels, not a lonely Mayfair miss.
She’d read too much into his kindness, and now she’d scared him off. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any long-term awkwardness if he decided he’d like to marry Violet, which seemed likely given his prior behavior.
She dabbed underneath her eyes and, finding the skin dry, stepped through the doorway and into the corridor. A cool breeze wafted through the air, and she shivered. Perhaps a door had been left open.
She wished she had a mirror in which she could check her reflection, but, lacking that, decided to brazen it out. She inhaled deeply and reentered the poetry reading. Several guests must have departed, because the room was emptier.
Emma surveyed the collected people, her gaze immediately landing on Violet, a blonde beacon among her darker-haired companions. She and Mr. Mayhew were no longer alone, thank goodness. The duke stood between them, and they had been joined by another gentleman.
You can do this.
Gathering the discarded scraps of her dignity, she crossed the room. Violet turned and stepped aside to invite Emma into their group, but she stayed back.
“My head is aching,” Emma said softly enough that only Violet could hear. “I need to return home.”
Violet’s forehead creased with concern. “Is it bad?”
“Enough.” It was hardly even a lie at this point.
“Then let us depart.” Violet made their excuses and summoned her maid with an imperious wave.
They bid their hosts farewell and headed outside. Emma rubbed her temples as they waited for their carriage.
“You’re very pale,” Violet said.
“I can imagine.” Emma’s tone sounded as mournful as she felt.
