Page 81 of A Duke to Steal Her
“You could’ve died.” Her voice cracked on the words. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re fine. You come back covered in blood and say it’s nothing? Do you even know what that would’ve done to me?”
The raw anguish in her voice sent a cold shiver down his spine. In all his calculations, all his careful planning for revenge, he’d never truly considered what his death would mean to her. What losing him would cost the woman who’d somehow become the center of his world.
“Emily—”
“I can’t lose you.” The tears spilled over now, tracking down her cheeks as she worked. “I finally found freedom, found happiness, foundyou…and you’re throwing it all away for revenge.”
Something inside his chest cracked open. All the cold calculation, all the ruthless determination that had sustained him through years of planning…it crumbled in the face of her tears.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, reaching up to cup her face with a hand that shook almost as badly as hers. “God, Emily, I’m so sorry.”
“Promise me.” She caught his wrist, holding his gaze with desperate intensity. “Promise me no more reckless danger.”
He saw it then, the choice lay bare before him. He could continue down this path of vengeance, honor his sister’s memory with Peirce’s destruction, and risk losing the only light that had entered his life in twelve years of darkness.
Or he could choose Emily. Choose life. Choose the future she was offering him with hands that still trembled as they touched his face.
The only problem was that he found it difficult to let the past go.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Your Grace! How lovely to see you this evening.”
The Marquess of Eastbrook’s annual summer soirée was one of the season’s most anticipated events, drawing the cream of London society to his sprawling Mayfair mansion.
Emily had debated whether they should attend, but he’d insisted, for they were the Duke and Duchess of Nightfell, and they would keep their heads high. Together, they could weather any storm.
Now, standing in the glittering ballroom with its banks of hothouse flowers and hundreds of candles, she wondered if they’d made a mistake.
Ambrose looked magnificent in his evening clothes, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, the careful way he held himself.
Ten days had passed since Emily had found him hurt. A physician had arrived the morning after that, though the skin was still tender beneath the surface, the stitches were gone now. Thankfully, the worst of it was concealed by the longer strands of hair swept neatly back from his brow.
The evening progressed pleasantly enough. Emily danced with Vincent and Oliver, chatted with Christine about the latest fashions, and even managed to enjoy herself despite her lingering worry.
Except, when she was returning from the ladies’ retiring room, her blood ran cold at a familiar voice.
“Your Grace.”
She turned to find Lord Peirce approaching, and the sight of him made her stomach lurch. He looked haggard and desperate. His clothes were fine cut, but his smile was sharp with malice.
Beside him stood a young woman Emily didn’t recognize. The young lady looked deeply uncomfortable.
“Lord Peirce,” Emily said carefully. “I didn’t realize you were in London.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss an event like this. So many old friends to catch up with.” His gaze swept over her with an intimacy that made her skin crawl. “You look radiant.”
Emily glanced around frantically, looking for Ambrose, for her sisters, for anyone who might help her escape this encounter. But the crowd seemed to have conspired against her, leaving her isolated with a man who clearly meant her harm.
“Mary here has the most interesting story to tell,” Peirce continued, gesturing to the maid. “Don’t you, Mary?”
The young woman looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor. “My lord, I really don’t think?—”
“Nonsense. Tell Her Grace how you remember her from your previous employment.”
Emily’s heart began to race as understanding dawned. This was one of Ambrose’s former servants, someone who’d been present during those first days at Nightfell.
“Speak up, girl,” Peirce pressed. “Tell everyone how the Duke of Nightfell introduced this lady to his household.”
