Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride (Scandalous Seasons #1)(40)

A wave of guilt swept over Emmaline for silently agreeing with her mother’s words. Nonetheless, she shook her head emphatically. “You have never been selfish.”

Mother’s throat worked, bobbing up and down.

Oh, please don’t cry. I cannot bear it when you cry.

“I have deprived you of those experiences that by rights should have been yours. And should you so desire them, I will see that they are made available to you.”

In other words—her mother would support a termination of the contract. The thought of her betrothal being severed caused Emmaline’s chest to constrict painfully in a way that made breathing difficult. “Thank you, Mother. I—I am not yet certain.”

Her mind steeped in logic told her to simply state the words her mother had given her leave to speak. Her heart, at that precise moment, called them back, froze them on the tip of her tongue.

Soft hazel eyes caressed her face. “Just say the words. You will be freed.” She pressed a kiss to Emmaline's brow, stroking back the tendril that had escaped its chignon and dangled over her eye. “Shall I remain with you?” The strand again sprung loose.

Emmaline shook her head, brushing it back behind her ear. “I am fine, Mother.” The last thing she wanted was company.

So of course at that moment Sebastian strolled into the room.

“What’s going on here?” he drawled lazily. He dropped into the mahogany rose-velvet sofa adorned with winged lions and stretched his legs out in front of him.

God, she hated that sofa; those nasty lions were all the rage. The beastly piece of decor rather ruined her favorite room in the house. In fact, she might have sought out another room, if it weren’t for the view of the gardens.

“Are you almost ready? We’ll be late to the hospital.” she asked, desperate for escape. Scrambling to her feet, she tried to hurry him out. “Let’s go.”

“We were discussing Lord Drake,” their mother explained.

Emmaline wanted to stamp her foot. She handled them quite well on her own but when Mother and Sebastian were together, they were quite grating. “Can we do this later?”

Sebastian’s dark blue eyes narrowed to unreadable black slits. “What about him? What is there to discuss, other than whether or not you want to end this farce of a betrothal?”

She probably had the only guardian in the entire Kingdom this eager to sever ties with one of the most powerful titles simply because his sister was not happy. Sebastian seemed to take Drake’s disinterest as a personal slight. And Emmaline loved him for that.

Mother’s gaze alternated between Emmaline and Sebastian. “I’ve already spoken with Emmaline on the matter, Sebastian.”

They both ignored her.

“I asked you to trust me,” Emmaline snapped at her brother.

He sprung from his leisurely pose; his spine stiffened as all feigned attempts at nonchalance disappeared. “And I told you yes, but with limits. You have been making a fool of yourself, Em. This is what you expect me to trust? You want me to blindly look away while you arrange your schedule to—"

This time she couldn’t help it…she stamped her foot. “I certainly don’t want you confronting him and trying to force his hand!”

A slight knock and the sudden appearance of a servant at the door cut off Sebastian’s diatribe. Emmaline was never more grateful for the sudden appearance of another person in her life.

A liveried servant came forth with a silver tray bearing an envelope. He cleared his throat. “Pardon, the interruption. You have a note, my lady.”

She accepted the envelope, aware of her mother and brother intently studying the parchment in her hands.

Recognizing the dark, strong scrawl at the front as distinctly different from Sophie’s wide, flowing letters, Emmaline turned the thick ivory envelope over in her hands. She noted the lion-emblazoned gold seal and trailed a fingertip along the raised surface. She hesitated and lifted the blade from the servant’s tray. Her fingers trembled as she slid the tip under the seal and withdrew the note.

“My Dear Lady,

I cannot believe you enjoy reading this drivel. I am writing to inquire as to your progress with your copy. And of course, to ask after your well-being.

—Drake

All day she’d been consumed with anxiety of how Drake would address what had transpired in the gardens. Her greatest fear had been that he would humble himself with an apology he need not make.

A burst of relieved laughter escaped her.

Sebastian had been the Duke of Mallen for almost three years, and most of the time epitomized the role to perfection. This time was not one of them. In his haste to sit up, he almost slipped off the sofa. “What does it say?”

Maybe if she’d been weaker she would have given him the information he sought. But this was still the same brother whose steps she’d dogged, the same brother she’d played pranks on as a young girl, and to her, he would always fit that role.

She waved the note in the air. “It says you’re a nosy busy-body who can’t mind his business.”

The Duchess of Mallen looked to Sebastian. “Perhaps he has finally come to his senses?”

Sebastian snorted. “I’ll believe it when she’s marching down the aisle on my arm,” he said.

A smile played about Emmaline’s lips. If she had her way that was just how it would be.