Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride (Scandalous Seasons #1)(68)

“I read your notes.” He caught her as she lost her footing.

***

Emmaline had given Drake her notes with the expectation he would read them. That had been at a time when she’d thought she would never speak to him again. But knowing he’d read all her private thoughts, left her feeling exposed.

Now that he was here, she could finally have the answer to the question that had haunted her since he’d walked out of her brother’s townhouse and out of her life. “I don’t understand. Why did you push me away?” Why did you give me up?

His hands tightened on her waist, the heat of his skin warming her even through the soft silk fabric. “If I were a better man I would leave you alone.” He nodded towards the eager gentlemen watching from the side of the dance floor. “I would be content to allow you to make a match with one of those more deserving gentlemen. I’m flawed.”

She flinched as she remembered her brother had leveled the same charge against Drake. “Don’t say that.”

He shook his head. A gold strand tumbled across his brow. “No. Listen to me. I need you to understand. The reason—”

“I’d like to dance the remainder of the set with my sister, Drake.” A voice snapped.

Emmaline jerked at the sudden appearance of Sophie and Sebastian. Somehow her brother had managed to steer Sophie across the floor and secured a spot right alongside them.

Sophie’s eyes fairly glimmered with an apology, as if to say she were sorry she’d been unable to keep Sebastian at bay.

Drat it.

With little ceremony, Sebastian handed Sophie over to Drake so that Emmaline was forced to accept her brother’s hand.

Sebastian’s eyes had gone glacial. “Stay away.”

***

Drake tore his gaze away from the sight of Mallen waltzing Emmaline away.

“You love her,” Miss Winters said, her tone very matter-of-fact.

He blinked. It was one thing for Emmaline to be so brutally direct, it was quite another when it was her dearest friend. “I beg your pardon, Miss Winters?”

Sophie gave a jaunty shake of her curls. “No apologies for loving her. I also love her.”

Drake felt as though he’d been spun in one too many dizzying circles. “Uh, n-no…for…” He let the matter rest.

Miss Winters studied him with wide, blinking cornflower blue eyes. She put him in mind of a night owl.

“You really should tell her, you know. The both of you should just end this fa?ade.”

Of course, Emmaline would be the best of friends with this opinionated, very vocal creature. “Fa?ade, Miss Winters?”

Sophie pointed her eyes toward the ceiling. “One minute you love her. The next you push her away. The next she is weepy. Then happy. It is enough to exhaust a soul.”

“I have never said I loved her,” he blurted.

Sophie gave him a wide, knowing smile. “You didn’t need to, my lord.”

Did he love Emmaline? He cared very much for her. He’d missed her when she’d been out of his life. She had brought him so much happiness. But love? Could Miss Winters be correct?

“I am indeed correct.” Sophie echoed his unspoken thoughts.

Drake was never gladder for the end of a set. He bowed over Miss Winter’s hand. “Will you deliver a message to her? Will you remind her I owe her a picnic?”

With that, he left.





Chapter 31

My Dearest Drake,

Oh, God. My father has died. Where are you? Why have you not come to me?

Ever Yours,

Emmaline

Lord Sinclair perused the long, pale pink marble foyer. “A bachelor’s residence,” Sinclair murmured. He fell into step alongside Drake.

Sir Faithful trotted along at their heels.

Sinclair glanced back. “A dog, as well. My, my, you truly are a bachelor.”

“Stuff it, Sin,” he muttered, leading his friend into his new office.

Drake crossed to the drink cart in the corner of the room and availed himself to a glass of whiskey. He held the bottle up to Sin.

At Sin’s nod, Drake poured a healthy amount into a crystal tumbler.

Sin accepted the glass and he and Drake claimed a seat on the set of leather winged chairs.

They drank in companionable silence. Sin polished off his drink before he spoke. “You do know you have set the ton on its ear?” He didn’t wait for Drake’s response, instead rose, and crossed the room, helping himself to another drink.

Drake sipped his more conservatively and absently eyed Sin’s movements. “To hell with the ton.” He waited until Sin had reclaimed his seat. “I want to court Emmaline.”

Sinclair sputtered around a mouthful of whiskey. “Lady Emmaline Fitzhugh? As in the same young lady you were betrothed to as a child? The same lady you ran off to war to avoid? The same—”

His hackles went up. “I believe you’ve made your point.”

Sin shook his head. “I don’t think I have. After years upon years of complaining about Lady Emmaline, you choose to court her now that she has cut you loose?”

Drake was well aware that courting Emmaline now, after she’d broken off their betrothal, would be met by Society with derision and speculation. The ton only knew Drake to be consumed by his own pursuit of pleasure. What they didn’t know, what he’d kept carefully concealed, was the madness he battled.