Arabella shook her head, frowning. “Emma, please—don’t speak of this as if it’s your only option. We can help you find a way out of this. Why must it be the Duke? Perhaps a baronet or someone else of decent standing could?—”
“No,” Emma said firmly, sitting up. “Marrying some random baronet won’t restore my reputation. Society loves a scandal, yes, but they love a redemption story more. And the only way to redeem myself is to accept the very consequences of my actions.” Her words grew bitter, yet resolute. “The Duke is right in their eyes, after all. Both he and Ophelia are written about as victims. I was reckless and caused untold harm. If I married him, I could at least lay the scandal to rest. Perhaps my disgrace would fade, eventually.”
Arabella studied her sister, her own eyes filled with sorrow. “But are you certain of this? Have you truly spoken to him since the wedding?” She sighed, her voice tinged with worry. “It’s been a fortnight since that day, and he hasn’t reached out to you at all. Are you quite certain he truly intends to go through with his threat? Could he not simply have spoken in anger?”
Emma stared down at her hands, twisting the edge of her sleeve between her fingers. “If he didn’t spread them, then I suspect he’s seen the stories, that he’s just waiting for me to come crawling to him.” She forced a bitter smile. “It’s all very convenient for him, don’t you think?”
Arabella reached out, cupping her sister’s cheek. “Emma, you’re assuming the worst. What if he was simply furious at the time and has since reconsidered?” She hesitated, glancing away as if thinking deeply.
“Ophelia said the same, that he was a good man. But then she also said I deserved to be unhappily married. I suppose that shall be my fate. I will go and see him.”
Arabella gave her a pointed look. “Emma, let Alexander accompany you, if you must. You know he’s the head of the family now. Whatever you intend to do, he should be involved.”
Emma stared at her sister, her emotions swirling in a storm of resistance and resolve. She didn’t want Alexander to come along. Part of her recoiled at the idea of facing the Duke, of confronting the man she’d wronged, and of admitting to herself how far she’d fallen. Bringing Alexander would make it so much worse. Yet another part of her—the pragmatic, determined part she’d nearly forgotten—understood the truth in Arabella’s words.
“If I must go…” she murmured, feeling the weight of the decision settle heavily upon her shoulders. “Then I shall prepare myself for it.”
Arabella gave her hand a gentle squeeze, her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and sadness. “Whatever you decide, Emma, you are my sister, and you’ll never be alone in this.”
Emma swallowed, nodding as she looked away, her mind already filled with the daunting task ahead. She would go to the Duke and tell him she’d marry him – if that was what it took to restore her reputation.
The rumble of the carriage wheels filled the silence between Alexander and Emma as they wound their way through the sprawling countryside toward Haddington Manor, the estate of the Duke of Wells. Alexander watched his sister out of the cornerof his eye, his gaze flicking back and forth between her resolute expression and the passing scenery. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but steady.
“Are you truly certain about this, Emma?” he asked. “There may yet be other paths open to you.”
Emma kept her eyes fixed out the window, watching the rolling hills and clusters of ancient trees blur past. “Yes,” she replied softly. “This is the only way I can fix things, Alexander.”
He sighed, shifting slightly in his seat as if searching for another angle. “You’ve considered speaking to others? There are still gentlemen of decent standing who could?—”
“No.” She cut him off, her voice as cold and unyielding as the winter’s wind. “This is the only way to restore what little honor I have left. Besides, I deserve this.” Her fingers clenched the edge of her skirt as if bracing herself against the weight of her own words. “An unhappy marriage.”
Alexander’s face softened as he studied her, his earlier frustration giving way to a compassion that made Emma avert her gaze. “You don’t deserve that, Emma,” he said quietly. “You made mistakes, yes, but you tried to do right. You’re a good person at heart, despite this… misstep.” He let out a long breath, his expression conflicted but sincere. “I only wish you wouldn’t condemn yourself so thoroughly.”
Emma held his gaze for a moment before looking away, her eyes fixed on her gloved hands. The silence returned, but itfelt heavier now, filled with the weight of all that had been left unsaid.
In the quiet of the carriage, her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the man himself. Could Ophelia have been right about him? Could the Duke truly be more than a rake and a scoundrel, as he was so often called? The question unsettled her, and yet, here she was, prepared to offer her hand to him in a desperate bid for redemption.
The carriage slowed, jolting Emma from her thoughts as Haddington Manor came into view. Her breath caught as she took in the vast estate. The manor itself rose from the landscape like a grand relic from another age, its stone facade softened by ivy trailing up its walls and its numerous windows gleaming faintly in the winter sunlight.
Ornate gardens flanked either side, sculpted hedges and dormant flowerbeds hinting at the beauty they would possess come spring. A gravel drive curved up to the main entrance, lined with towering oaks that cast long shadows over the estate grounds.
The carriage came to a halt, and Alexander stepped out first, offering his hand to Emma as she descended. She looked around, her heart heavy with trepidation. The sheer size of the estate was overwhelming, a physical reminder of the world she was stepping into, a world she scarcely understood.
Alexander watched her closely, his brow furrowed with concern. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Emma,” he said,his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “I cannot pretend I think this is a wise decision, but I am here for you. If things do not go as planned—if you ever find yourself in need—my door will always be open to you.”
A warmth rose within her, thawing some of the icy resolve she’d wrapped around herself. She looked at her brother with new appreciation, gratitude flickering in her eyes. He had been kind and understanding to her, hadn’t judged her as harshly as she deserved even though she certainly had judged him.
“Alexander,” just as she began to speak, the sound of the door opening broke the moment. A footman stood before them, his gloved hand outstretched as he gestured for them to enter.
Emma felt her pulse quicken as they stepped into the entrance hall, the air thick with an almost palpable tension. She straightened her shoulders, casting one last, steady glance at Alexander, who gave her an encouraging nod.
With one final, deep breath, she prepared herself to face whatever awaited her beyond the doors of Haddington Manor.
CHAPTER 13
Evan
Evan stood at the window, overlooking the drive leading up to Haddington Manor’s grand entrance when he saw an unfamiliar carriage cresting the hill. His brows drew together. He noted that the coat of arms appeared to have been partially removed from the doors.
