Page 69 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
Emma poured the tea, stirring sugar into her own and Mrs. Snowe’s, drawing comfort from the familiar actions.
“So, how did you and the duke meet?” Mrs. Snowe asked, taking the delicate handle of the cup between her thumb and forefinger.
Emma narrowed her eyes, wondering if they knew the truth. It seemed unlikely that the local gentry wouldn’t be aware of a scandal involving someone as well known as the duke.
“We met at a ball,” she said simply. Technically, it was true. They’d been introduced. It didn’t matter that Vaughan had promptly asked Violet to dance and ignored Emma.
“I heard that he was betrothed to your sister.” Miss Snowe’s tone was salacious, and it made Emma uncomfortable.
She should have expected comments like this. She’d just hoped that people would be polite enough not to make them to her face.
“Briefly,” Emma said. “But they decided they were not suited.”
“So, she didn’t jilt him?” Miss Snowe asked.
“Susannah,” her mother chided. “We mustn’t ask such things.”
Miss Snowe ducked her head. “My apologies, Your Grace. As I’m sure you can imagine, we’ve heard mixed accounts of what took place.”
Emma pursed her lips. Despite her apology, Susannah didn’t seem sorry for bringing it up. Something about her expression was almost sly.
“There isn’t much to discuss,” Emma said, willing herself to appear calm and collected. “My sister and the duke were betrothed for a short time, but their engagement ended. After the severance, the duke asked me to be his wife, and I agreed.”
They looked disappointed not to have been given more gossip.
“Did you know that at one point we thought Susannah might be the next Duchess of Ashford?” Mrs. Snowe said.
What on earth?
Emma didn’t allow her reaction to show. She’d never have expected Mrs. Snowe to blatantly disrespect her by saying such a thing. Most people would be wary of crossing someone with such a high standing in society.
Were they trying to upset her?
“And yet here I am, and there she is,” Emma said coolly.
Vaughan paced backand forth in front of his mirror.
“You’re an idiot,” he told himself. “A goddamned imbecile. Why are you still here?”
He’d intended to leave that morning, believing that he’d laid with Emma enough times that she ought to be pregnant, and if not then he could return next month to try again. He’d packed his bags, readied the horses, but not gotten into the carriage. And he had no idea why.
All right, that wasn’t entirely true. He had some idea why, and it was all to do with his far-too-tempting wife.
He didn’t want to leave Emma. Which, ironically, was exactly why he needed to. Yet he couldn’t make himself do it.
“Just tell her,” he said to his reflection. “Tell her you’re returning to London in the morning.”
He scowled at himself. The whole point of taking Emma as his wife had been to secure an heir while impacting his life as little as possible. To that end, he needed to return to his usual habits.
He hummed in thought, wondering if he could persuade Emma to return to London instead of him so he could remainhere. He much preferred Ashford Hall to their city residence. But he’d already dragged her all the way here. It would be rude to send her back again so soon.
A knock on the door captured his attention. He opened it and leaned against the frame. Mrs. Travers stood on the other side.
“Your Grace, I thought you’d like to know that you have visitors.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, visibly uncertain. “Mrs. and Miss Snowe are in the gold drawing room with the duchess.”
Vaughan groaned. Wonderful. Just what he needed.
“Thank you for telling me. I’ll be down soon.” He shouldn’t leave Emma to deal with the women on her own. Especially when she was so new in her role here.
