Page 35 of Healing the Duke's Desires
“She was absolutely smitten by him, and he used it to his advantage until she was unable to resist him. They shared a passionate affair, which was eventually discovered by the lady’s father. What happened then was terrible. Oh, it saddens me to remember it,” the duchess said, pressing her hand to her heart, even slowing down her pace. Emily immediately followed suit.
“Are you all right?” she asked. “Should we head back?”
“No, no,” the duchess assured her. “I will be all right. I need to tell you this, to warn you. I consider it my duty, and I know she would want me to tell you as well. You see, the duke, he… he heartlessly abandoned the woman in question. It turned out that she did not care about her one bit. And subsequently, she was married off to another man, to save her the disgrace. The duke did not care one bit what happened to her afterward.”
Emily was paralyzed. She could barely breathe, let alone speak. Every single fiber of her being protested against such a portrayal of the man she was falling in love with, and yet she had no reason to distrust this woman, who had shared with her a very intimate secret, all to keep her safe from the arms of a man who was no stranger to seeking solace in women’s beds.
“You do not have to say anything, my dear.” The duchess stopped, turning to Emily. “You know the truth now. He is not a good man. A good man would never do such a thing to a woman who loved him more than life itself. I know you will make the right choice for your family, for your reputation, for your own self. One mistake can be very expensive. It can cost you the rest of your life. Remember that.”
Emily nodded, swallowing heavily. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, of thoughts, and they all worked against one another. She had no idea who to trust. How was one to know what the truth was?
“We’d best head on back.”
The Duchess of Montpelier’s voice brought her back to the present moment, and they turned around and started walking back. Emily was still lost, her mind a blank, regarding the true nature of the enigmatic Duke of Ravenswood.
Chapter 20
“Must I really?” Emily wondered for the fifteenth time in the last couple of days, but each time she did so, her question mattered less and less.
She was waiting for her lady’s maid to finish with her coiffure, while her mother and Sarah sat in her chamber, watching intently as the skilled fingers of the maid were wrapping up their work. They were all to head out shortly, as the carriage had already been prepared.
It was an important evening, due to the fact that this was the evening of the annual musicale hosted by none other than Lady Ashfordshire’s dear friend, Lady Whitfield. Tickets were sold in a very limited number, so attending this particular social event was once again something their mother was unwilling to miss.
“I honestly do not see why you would not want to.” Lady Ashfordshire shrugged, clearly puzzled by her daughter’s reluctance to perform in front of other people. “I mean, just look how your sister loves to paint, don’t you, dear?” She turned to her younger daughter this time.
“Yes.” Sarah nodded without hesitation. However, she was unwilling to agree completely with her mother’s statement. “But I also don’t like to paint in front of everyone, Mother. It is different. You feel that inspiration come from somewhere deep inside of you and you allow your mind, your heart, your fingers, and your brush to do the talking for you. When someone watches me do it, I feel… vulnerable somehow.”
Lady Ashfordshire stood stunned for a moment, then she waved her hand dismissively. “That is all fine and dandy, my dear. But I suppose the process of painting and playing the pianoforte are not the same. What I wanted to ask was that you like it when other people look at your finished paintings and tell you how lovely they are, don’t you?”
“Of course.” Sarah nodded immediately.
“Well, there you go.” Their mother stood up victoriously, her point having been made. “When Emily plays the pianoforte, it is the same. I mean, the result is the same. What I mean is that we love listening to you play, Emily, my dear.”
Emily inhaled deeply as her lady’s maid pulled away, allowing Emily to examine herself in the looking glass. She had to admit that the girl had outdone herself this time. Her locks were gathered into a symphony of twists and braids, the arrangement both sophisticated and effortless. From the back, her hair was wrapped into a bun that added regal charm to her appearance.
With such a coiffure, even her gown seemed to take on a more elegant flow. Emily stood up, straightening an invisible wrinkle in the fabric, which flowed like liquid silk, caressing her figure with a touch that seemed to defy gravity itself. The color, a rich and enchanting shade of deep sapphire, captured the very essence of the night sky, making her appear mysterious and elusive.
The bodice was a work of art, adorned with intricate lace that traced delicate patterns across her collarbones and shoulders. The lace seemed to mimic the ethereal beauty of frost on a winter morning, adding a touch of enchantment to the gown’s already captivating charm. It dipped into a modest V-neck without revealing too much, leaving room for the imagination to wander.
All three ladies had purchased new gowns for the occasion, but it seemed Emily’s was the one that made the biggest impact. It was so much more than a mere dress. It was a statement of her strength, a visual representation of poise and sophistication, and that was probably what her mother had had in mind when she’d urged Emily to choose that one.
“I promised Lady Whitfield,” Emily finally acquiesced, knowing it was far too late to change her mind and decide not to perform. She was merely expressing her displeasure vocally for the last time, without conviction that anything would change. “I cannot go back on my promise, no matter how much I would like to.”
“You could always say you have taken ill,” Sarah pointed out mischievously, much to their mother’s displeasure.
“Sarah!” Lady Ashfordshire scolded her younger daughter, her eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t you be giving your sister silly ideas!” She inhaled deeply, as if to calm herself a little, then continued. “I will go see if your father is ready. If he is, I expect us all in the carriage within the half-hour.” Her tone was final and absolute, and her daughters recognized it.
“Yes, Mother,” both sisters proclaimed at the same time.
Satisfied with that response, their mother left Emily’s chamber, followed immediately by Emily’s lady’s maid. Now, the two girls were alone, and Emily could breathe a little more freely.
“Are you all right, Emily?” Sarah asked, as if she had been waiting for this particular moment to inquire about that in particular.
“Yes, why?” Emily endeavored to smile, but it was a weak effort.
The truth was that nothing was all right. Her usually composed demeanor was fraying at the edges, her mind consumed by the echoes of the Duchess of Montpelier’s words.
An edge of unease had crept into her consciousness, a persistent whisper of doubt that refused to be silenced. The familiar surroundings only seemed to magnify her internal turmoil, casting long shadows across the chamber. Not even Sarah’s presence seemed to ease this burden, the burden of not knowing who the duke truly was.
