Page 98 of His Scandal
Chapter 25
Alex’s face paled. “I didn’t mean you, Emmeline. You must believe me.”
“Sweet God, how you must be laughing at me.”
“Em—”
He tried to take her hand, but she backed away from him.
“I even offered myself to you! You hardly needed totryto compromise me.”
“You weren’t part of the wager,” he said, stepping toward her. “In fact, you stood in the way of it. And I was intrigued, damn it.”
“Then why didn’t you change the wager to me?”
His silence was her answer.
“You wanted to, didn’t you?” she said, forcing a laugh even as everything in her seemed to die. “I was much easier than my sister.”
“If that’s all it was, I could have ended the wager long ago. I had already kissed your sister, but I didn’t tell Edmund.”
“Then it must be because you wanted to finish what you started.”
“No, because I wanted to be with you!”
She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling tears well in her eyes and fall down her cheeks. “Don’t! Don’t lie to make this easier on yourself.”
Alex took hold of her shoulders and pulled her closer. “I am not lying.”
She looked up into the face of a man who could seduce women as a game. Just when she saw a better side of him, he revealed a new low. Everything everyone said about him was true, and she had foolishly thought only she understood him. But he’d been using her and her sister as an amusing diversion.
In trying to protect her sister from hurt, she had opened herself up to despair and humiliation. She couldn’t look at him anymore.
“Let me go,” she whispered.
For a moment she almost wished he’d disobey her, so she could slap him. But he released her.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Edmund can escort me home.” She couldn’t look back at him. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”
The door slammed shut and Alex flinched. In his mind he saw Emmeline’s face again—hershock and disappointment turning into horror—and he felt sick inside.
How had a foolish game ended up causing so much harm? Why had he not seen what the repercussions would be?
Because he was a selfish fool, who thought only of his own pleasure. He had never imagined the desperation of needing to explain himself. He had wanted Emmeline’s understanding—only to find that it was too late.
He told himself it was better this way. What did he think would come of this, after all? Now he could pay off his debts, go back to his mistress, and live the life he was good at.
Then why did the coming days seem so bleak, so—lonely? How had he come to depend on Emmeline’s presence?
A sennight passed, and Emmeline began to breathe easier. Her father and the servants kept quiet about her adventure with Alex, and her reputation remained intact. Blythe didn’t need her anymore; she had more suitors than ever, and Maxwell was a frequent visitor. Emmeline tried to make her life as it used to be, even attending meetings at Whitehall.
But every night she sobbed alone in her room until her chest ached. Surely she could cry away the emptiness she felt. How could she miss Alex so desperately, after he’d made a fool of her?
Eight days had passed since she’d last seen him, and that night she sat alone in her chamber, looking out the window over the gardens toward the Thames. Her throat was raw from crying. In the distance she could see the wherries ferrying passengers by lantern light.
She heard a knock at the door and ignored it, so whoever it was would think she was asleep. But the door creaked open.
