Page 44 of Healing the Duke's Desires
He felt like he was expected to say this, not that he necessarily believed it.
“Fate knows what we need even when we don’t ask for it,” Mr. Stirling pointed out. “Life is short. Too short to wonder whether we are worthy of happiness or not. Follow your heart, Your Grace. Do not let fear or doubt hold you back from happiness that is just within reach.”
Alexander was still not convinced, but Mr. Stirling’s words brought more comfort to his thundering heart than he expected them to. “Thank you, Stirling. Your counsel is invaluable to me.”
“I am glad to hear that, Your Grace.” Stirling bowed respectfully. Skillfully able to sense when his services were no longer needed, the butler continued. “Should I tell the ladies that you will be right down?”
“Please do so.” Alexander nodded gratefully.
“Right away.” Mr. Stirling bowed one more time, then closed the door behind him.
Alexander turned to the canvas again. It looked as if Emily’s eyes were watching him with even more tenderness, reminding him that life was meant for the living, not mourning the dead. It was meant to be lived fully, even in the face of past tragedies, or perhaps exactly because of them.
He gently brushed against the canvas, his mind momentarily transporting him back to the chamber where he had pressed her against the wall, drinking in her need. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. If only there was a way to bridge the gap between his past and the future that beckoned him so tantalizingly.
***
Emily barely slept that night. That was only one of the reasons why she was unable to focus on the topic of discussion, which was the highly anticipated dinner ball hosted by Lady Viola, scheduled for the following evening.
Her mother’s voice carried a note of excitement as she spoke. “The dinner ball at Lady Viola’s estate is sure to be a grand affair. The cream of society will be in attendance.”
Sarah chimed in, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “And the dresses! I’ve been looking forward to showcasing my new gown.”
Emily nodded. As much as she was able to follow the conversation, she was certain that the only person whose opinion on her sister’s gown mattered to Sarah was Mr. Wilcott’s. Emily offered a polite smile as she gazed out of the window, her mind far from the conversation at hand. She was present in body but consumed by her thoughts, her focus centered on the memory of Alexander.
As her mother and sister continued discussing the guest list and the exquisite menu that was planned, Emily’s attention drifted further away. She could barely hear their words over the echo of their conversation in her own mind—images of the dimly lit chamber, the feel of Alexander’s lips against hers, and the charged atmosphere that had enveloped them.
“Emily, my dear, you seem rather distracted,” her mother pointed out. “One would think you would show more excitement. Is something the matter?”
Emily forced a smile, focusing on the conversation. “It’s been a whirlwind of events, Mother. With the musicale and the garden party we just attended, I guess I’m just a little overwhelmed by it all.”
At that moment, the door burst open and Lord Ashfordshire barged in, his cheeks reddened and his eyes wide with delight. Instantly, the calm waters of the drawing room were disrupted as he stepped into the very center of the chamber.
“My dears, I have received some rather good news,” he announced importantly, his voice carrying a buoyant tone.
Emily felt something clench around her heart. She had no idea what this news would be, but she knew one thing: It was not good. She knew better than to doubt her gut feeling on such matters. Apprehensively, she waited for her father to divulge what he came here to say.
“What is it, Father?” Sarah wondered, voicing the question on behalf of all three ladies present.
A pleased smile played on his lips. “The marquess has returned to London.”
Emily felt like someone grabbed her by the throat and squeezed suddenly, aggressively, and violently, without any intention of letting go. Her throat tightened as she desperately tried to swallow but was unable to.
“The marquess?” Lady Ashfordshire’s voice reverberated the title, although everyone knew exactly who they were both referring to.
Her husband nodded, satisfaction in his expression. It was obvious that he had been waiting for this announcement eagerly, while Emily herself had forgotten all about it in her whirlwind romance with Alexander. Now, reality had reared its ugly face and threatened to destroy all happiness in Emily’s path.
“Yes, and not only that,” Lord Ashfordshire spoke, rubbing his hands together, “but it seems that we are both eager for this engagement to be officially announced. He believes that the best moment would be a day after Lady Viola’s ball, and I wholeheartedly agree.”
He agreed, but had he asked Emily anything? Of course not. Her heart plummeted in her chest, a heavy weight settling upon her as the reality of her father’s words sank in. The marquess had returned to London. Their engagement was to be formalized. The timing? Just a day after tomorrow. It all felt like an inexorably cruel twist of fate.
She struggled to maintain her composure, fingers grasping at the fabric of her dress. Her gaze drifted to the window, her thoughts tumultuous and conflicted. Just as she had begun to glimpse the possibility of a different path, of a life beyond societal expectations and obligations, her hopes seemed to crumble.
“Isn’t that wonderful, Emily?” her father inquired, all eyes on her.
Emily could barely breathe. The look of joy in her father’s eyes. The look of concern on her mother’s face. And the look of pity in Sarah’s gaze. It was all too much. The thought of marrying the marquess, a man of such cruelty, threatened to destroy her completely. In that moment, the gulf between the future that awaited her and the brief but intense connection she had shared with Alexander felt insurmountable.
“Emily?” her mother called out, her tone of voice demanding an answer. But Emily had none. At least none that her parents would like or approve of.
