Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride (Scandalous Seasons #1)(58)

Had there ever been a woman more stunning? A sea-foam silk and organza creation clung to her delicate form. Her suggestive décolletage, trimmed with crystal beading caught the light of the chandeliers and radiated rainbow hues out into the hall. The rich fabric of the gown clung to her hips and swayed with any hint of movement. She was a siren. She beckoned to him.

He willed her to look at him. To forgive him.

Then she did. He knew the moment his presence registered. Her eyes lit with joy that was all too fleeting, only to be replaced by an aching sadness. It tore at his insides.

In a protective manner, the Duke of Mallen’s tall frame moved closer to Emmaline and impinged on Drake’s view of her. The duke leaned down and whispered something in her ear. Emmaline’s lips lifted ever so slightly, in rendition of an amused smile. Drake wondered if he were the only man present who recognized the gesture as forced.

She looped her arm in Mallen’s and discreetly pinched him. If Drake hadn’t been attending so closely, he would have missed the slight movement.

Drake stepped forward. He took two more steps and then had to use sheer will to halt his movements.

Mallen said a quick word to the Duchess of Mallen, and then ushered Emmaline to the opposite side of the room. He deposited her along the wall next to Miss Winters.

Drake cursed blackly, earning curious and shocked stares from the lords and ladies around him. He ignored them. If Drake had a sister, he would do far better. He wouldn’t abandon her amidst a row of wallflowers.

Though was it really Mallen who was responsible for that, a silent voice jeered? Aren’t you, the one truly responsible?

A servant came by to relieve Drake of his empty champagne flute. He deposited it on the tray and continued his study of Emmaline. Emmaline’s fair cheeks glowed as she spoke. She gestured wildly with her hands and Drake wondered what the young women discussed.

Sin sidled up next to him. “What’s caught your attention, Drake?” he drawled.

“Stuff it, Sin.” Drake motioned for another flute of champagne and proceeded to ignore his friend.

Not one to be easily intimidated, Sin accepted a flute for himself and looked across the ballroom. “Ahh, Lady Emmaline. Imagine finding her here even though she was unaware of your plans for the evening. How fortuitous for you.”

Drake ignored the mocking edge in Sin’s words.

“She looks rather well, considering.”

Goddamn Sinclair for dangling that last word.

Drake told himself not to give in to the temptation of asking. Forced himself to count to ten.

He got to nine. “Considering what, Sin?”

Sin feigned wide-eyed surprise. “Why, you haven’t heard? There is talk among the ton of a row between you and Lady Emmaline.” Sin lowered his voice so Drake had to strain to hear. “Apparently she was seen running through Hyde Park, in tears. You were seen departing shortly thereafter.”

Drake’s shuttered his expression, and even though he told himself not to look at her, he could not prevent himself from stealing one more glance. He recognized that forced dazzling smile for what it was; a brittle attempt at lightheartedness. Even with the distance and crowd between them, he could see her fingers curled tightly in her lap, blood-white.

“Mallen looks like he wants your blood,” Sin murmured.

Without a word for Sinclair, Drake started across the room.

***

“Of all events for him to attend,” Emmaline muttered. She twisted her hands anxiously in her lap, grateful for Sophie’s calming presence. “Now, when I have no desire to see him, this is where he is?”

A frantic laugh bubbled from her throat.

Sophie reached for Emmaline’s hand. “Oh, Em.” She glanced across the ballroom floor. “He is looking this way,” she said in a frantic whisper.

”Who?”

Sophie pointed her eyes toward the ceiling. “Who do you think? The Marquess of Drake.”

Emmaline fought the urge to spin in his direction. She hated that even after his callous dismissal of her that morning, she still longed to see him. She clasped Sophie’s hand. “I want to leave,” she said.

“Shh, they are staring. What has he done that makes you want to flee?”

Emmaline picked up her fan. She snapped it open in attempt to conceal her lips. “He sent a note requesting I meet him in the park. I showed up like a love-struck fool, and in the end, the note wasn’t even from him, Sophie. It was Lord Sinclair’s ploy to throw us together. Needless to say it ended in disaster.”

Sophie’s eyes went round. “Oh, Em.”

Emmaline snapped her fan shut. “I broke off the betrothal.”

If possible, Sophie’s eyes widened even more. “You what?”

Emmaline scrunched her fingers into the folds of her gown, crushing the lovely sea-foam creation. Madame Touseou would be livid if she saw how callously Emmaline handled one of her finest gowns.

“I ended it. Lord Drake does not care for me. He never did. So in the end, I gave him his freedom.”

Sophie’s brow furrowed. “I have to believe he cares for you, Em.”

A snort escaped Emmaline. “What makes you say that?”

Sophie stole another peek across the room. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you arrived.” She tapped her chin. “And he doesn’t appear disinterested. No man can look at a woman the way he has looked at you all night and not feel something.” Sophie sighed. “I’d give my last eye-tooth to have a man stare at me the way the Marquess of Drake stares at you.”