Page 47 of His Scarred Duchess
“Well, well, if it isn’t the elusive Duke of Holbrook.” A hauntingly familiar voice sent a chill down Edmund’s spine.
He was standing by the window, a glass of brandy in hand, grateful for a moment’s respite from the endless small talk. He had just extracted himself from a tedious conversation with Lord Rutherford about wild boar whensheappeared.
He turned slowly, his face a mask of icy indifference as he met Joanna’s eyes. She was wearing a gown of deep crimson, her smile predatory as she looked him up and down.
“Lady Strathmore,” he said, his voice clipped. “I wasn’t aware you’d be in attendance this evening.”
Joanna’s laugh was like cut glass, beautiful and potentially lethal. “Oh, come now, Edmund. Still insisting on formalities? Even with our history”
Edmund felt his jaw clench, memories of betrayal and heartache threatening to overwhelm him. He took a sip of his brandy, using the moment to compose himself.
“Our history, as you put it, is precisely why I prefer to maintain formalities, Lady Strathmore,” he said coolly. “Things have changed.”
“Have they?” Joanna purred, stepping closer. “I heard you’d finally taken a bride. Tell me, does she satisfy you as I once did?”
White-hot anger surged through Edmund at her words. Before he could formulate a suitably scathing reply, he caught sight of his wife across the room, making her way towards them.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said curtly to Joanna. “I believe I see Lord Ashworth. We have some business to discuss.”
Without waiting for a response, he strode away, his mind racing.
He hadn’t expected to encounter Joanna here, hadn’t prepared himself for the onslaught of emotions her presence evoked. Anger, certainly, and disgust at her blatant attempt at seduction. But also, to his surprise, a sense of… indifference. The pain she had once caused him seemed distant now, overshadowed by his concern for Adeline.
As he reached Lord Ashworth, Edmund glanced back, his heart sinking as he saw Joanna approach his wife. He was too far away to intervene without causing a scene, but close enough to hear Joanna’s voice, dripping with false sweetness.
“So, you’re the new Duchess of Holbrook?”
Edmund watched as Adeline straightened her spine, lifting her chin in a show of defiance that made something twist in his chest. But he could see the flicker of intimidation in her eyes as she took in Joanna’s flawless beauty.
Joanna’s gaze raked over Adeline, lingering pointedly on the scar that marred her cheek. “How… interesting,” she murmured, her tone making it clear she found Adeline anything but. “I must say, you’re not at all what I expected. But then, I suppose beggars can’t be choosers, can they?”
Edmund took a step forward, fury building in his chest at her thinly veiled insult. But before he could intervene, a footman’s voice rang out.
“Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served!”
He saw Adeline’s relief at the interruption, even as she struggled to maintain her composure. As the crowd began to move towards the dining room, Edmund made his way to his wife’s side.
“Duchess,” he said softly, offering her his arm. “Shall we?”
She looked up at him, surprise and something like gratitude flickering in her green eyes. As she placed her hand on his arm, Edmund felt a surge of protectiveness. He may not have been able to shield her from Joanna’s barbs, but he could at least ensure that she didn’t endure the rest of the evening alone.
As they made their way to the dining room, Edmund caught Joanna’s eye across the crowd. The look she gave him was full of malice and promise—a clear indication that her games were far from over.
As Edmund guided Adeline to their seats at the long dining table, he couldn’t help but notice the subtle tension in her posture. Her chin was lifted defiantly, but he could see the slight tremor in her hand as she placed it on the back of her chair.
“Are you all right?” he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
Adeline’s green eyes met his, surprise flickering in their depths. “I’m fine, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice steady despite the uncertainty he could see in her gaze. “Thank you for your concern.”
Edmund nodded, pulling out her chair, and took his seat beside Adeline after she’d sat down. To his left sat Lord Huxley, a portly gentleman known more for his love of gossip than his intellect.
“I say, Your Grace,” Lord Huxley began as the first course was served, “you’ve been holding out on us! I had no idea your Duchess was such a charming creature.”
Edmund felt rather than saw Adeline stiffen beside him. “Indeed,” he replied coolly. “I count myself fortunate.”
Lord Huxley leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Adeline with an intensity that made Edmund’s fists clench beneath the table. “Tell me, Your Grace,” he addressed Adeline directly, “that scar of yours—was it a childhood accident? Or perhaps something more… exciting?”
A hush fell over their vicinity, the other guests poorly disguising their interest in Adeline’s response. Edmund watched as a flush crept up his wife’s neck, her fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around her soup spoon.
