Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “You may be a future duchess, but you still owe him respect. He’s your father.”
“Hardly,” Emma said softly. “He has been in and out of my life for decades, Mama. And yours, for heaven’s sake. Not a week ago, you were agonizing over him reappearing and destroying our lives. Now you speak of him like he is a saint.”
Her mother shifted. “You don’t understand love, Emma. If you did, you would know what I go through, what I must accept.”
Emma turned away. She did understand love. She loved James—there was no longer any denying that. But she didn’t want the life she had watched her mother had live. One where she feared and longed for a man in equal measure. One where she was forced to forgive all transgressions out of some desperate hope for crumbs of his affection.
“You make the life you live, Mama,” she said. “And so must I.” She turned back. “If James does not wish to support Father, then…I do not question his decision.”
Her mother’s face crumpled and her hands clenched at her sides. “Ungrateful wretch,” she hissed out before she spun around and raced from the room.
Emma leaned her hands against the closest table, her eyes stinging with tears, her body trembling after the confrontation she’d just had with her mother. The one that felt like it had been coming for a lifetime.
She wanted to curl up and cry. She wanted to run away from the pain in her heart. But mostly, she wanted to find James. For his comfort and his support, yes, but also because she knew what she needed to do. She knew what she needed to risk.
And if she didn’t risk it now, she might never have another chance.
She straightened up and smoothed her gown, then walked from the chamber. She moved through the hallways, hearing talk and laughter from behind the doors in the guest quarters, smiling at the servants who now looked at her with new deference as their future mistress.
As she came down the staircase, Grimble was at the bottom. The butler had a long list and he was discussing it with a footman, but he waved the man off as she exited the stairs.
“Miss Liston,” he said, his tone and expression warm. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“James,” she breathed. “Abernathe. Where is he?”
The butler seemed slightly taken aback by her question, or perhaps it was her expression when she asked it, for she was certain she looked as troubled as she felt.
“His Grace is on the terrace,” he said slowly.
“Thank you, Grimble,” she said as she nodded. Her heart rate increased as she turned toward the back of the house, where she could join her future husband. Her legs and hands trembled as she entered a chamber and made for the French doors there. She pushed them open and looked down the terrace for the man she loved.
She found him immediately. But he wasn’t alone. James stood ten feet away, his back to her…with a beautiful woman standing across from him. She squinted to see better and drew in a breath. It was the Countess of Montague, a lady everyone knew was open with her favors. She’d seen them talk before at the party, just in passing. Butthiswas not a passing conversation. Lady Montague was leaning into James, her hand boldly lifted to his chest.
Emma watched them together, her hands shaking at her sides and tears stinging her eyes. James smiled at the other woman, and her heart broke as she turned away. Walked back into the house, back through to the foyer. Grimble said her name, but she ignored him as she exited the house and hurried down the path that took her from the house, toward the stables.
She walked for a short time, her breath ragged and her mind spinning. Had she seen James doing something wrong? Not exactly. He’d been talking to one of his guests. A female guest, yes, but she could certainly not expect him to never speak to another woman again just because he was marrying her.
It was the intimacy of the discussion that broke her. In that moment, she’d seen a glimpse of her potential future. She did not want to be like her mother, loving a man who didn’t return the feelings, waiting for him to grace her with any kind of attention. She couldn’t spend her life like that.
She turned a corner toward the stables, uncertain of her next step. Did she go back and confront James? Did she pretend this hadn’t happened and move forward with the union, despite her questions?
Did she run away?
She stopped in the middle of the path as she tried to regain her composure.
“Well, well, well.”
She turned at the snide voice coming from behind her. Who she saw there made her heart almost stop.
“S-Sir Archibald,” she breathed, backing away from the man.
He stepped forward an equal distance, keeping her within arm’s length. She stared at him, for he didn’t look like the man who had expressed interest in her just a short time before. His hair was messy, his face red, like he’d been drinking, and his eyes were glassy.
“What is wrong with you?” she whispered.
He tilted his head as if confused by her question. “Wrong withme? Aside from the abject humiliation brought down on me byyourduke?”
She shivered at the harsh and shrill tone of his voice. “What humiliation is that, Sir Archibald? Surely you never really wantedme. You hardly know me, and I could not be considered a catch based on my family and my lack of funds.”
