Page 25 of A Duke to Steal Her
The Duke softened his tone. “You needn’t worry. He’s a man of principle, inconvenient though that may be.”
She glanced at him, unsure whether to believe the easy confidence in his voice. “He seemed to think….”
“William may make as many conjectures as he likes.” His eyes met hers. “His opinion changes nothing. But he has been rather useful.”
“Useful?” She stared at him uncomprehendingly.
“There’s something I must tell you.” He moved closer before settling onto the bench beside her. “William brought news today. Lord Peirce has left for France.”
Relief flooded through her so swiftly it left her breathless. “When? Did he…did he go there because he thought I might have?—"
“A few days ago, and no. Lord Peirce is making no attempt to track your movements. Your family has handled the situation with extraordinary discretion.” He nodded pensively, then continued, “They’ve put it about that you fell suddenly ill on the morning of the wedding and were taken to the countryside to recover under a physician’s care.”
Emily nodded, though worry still gnawed at her. “The gossip will still be terrible. My mother…”
“Society has a remarkably short memory for such things. Particularly when presented with a more scandalous alternative.”
She turned to study his profile. “So, I suppose you’re pleased now? Everything is neatly tied up, no more mess. Are you satisfied, Your Grace?”
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Satisfaction isn’t what I’m seeking, my lady.”
Something in his voice made her watch him carefully, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched slightly at his sides.
“Then what are you seeking, Your Grace?”
He turned toward her then, his gaze dropping to her lips before meeting her eyes again. The space between them on the bench suddenly felt charged, dangerous. He leaned closer, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes.
“What I seek, my lady, is far more dangerous than you can understand.”
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Emily’s heart hammered against her ribs as she found herself leaning toward him without conscious thought.
“Try me.”
The response slipped out before she could stop it, surprising them both. His eyes widened slightly, and she saw her own shock reflected there. But beneath the surprise was a heat, a longing, a pull so strong it felt like gravity itself.
The silence stretched between them, taut as a bowstring. His gaze dropped to her mouth again, and she found herself holding her breath, waiting…
Suddenly, he jerked back, his hands clenching into fists.
The warmth disappeared from his expression, replaced by cold formality that made her chest ache.
“I’m sending you home, Lady Emily.”
“What?”
“Tomorrow morning. A carriage will take you to the back entrance of your sister’s home. The Duchess of Blackmoor would logically be the first person you’d seek out upon your return.”
Emily stared at him, trying to process the sudden shift. “I… yes, Juliana would…”
“You’re to tell no one what happened here. For both our sakes.” His voice was clipped, businesslike. “Your reputation must remain intact.”
She nodded numbly, though hurt spread through her chest like a physical wound. “Of course.”
“I won’t trouble you again, my lady. You have my word.”
The weight of his words hung in the air between them, heavy with finality. Emily’s breath caught, but she didn’t look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the piano keys, the smooth ivory blurring slightly as something unfamiliar twisted low in her stomach.
She ought to feel relieved—ought to welcome the promise that he would disappear from her life. But all she felt was the quiet, aching sting of something slipping away before she’d had the chance to understand what it was.
