Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride (Scandalous Seasons #1)(7)

The man angled his head. “They’re just plants.”

Emmaline’s eyes slid closed. Whitmore and the fruit. This idiot and flowers. It was a wonder men held the power they did.

“They are flowers,” a deep voice said dryly.

Emmaline spun on her heel so quickly, her foot slid. She fought to maintain her balance.

Lord Drake.

Their gazes caught and held. Emmaline’s heart fluttered in her chest.

Then she remembered Drake’s blatant disregard since their meeting three weeks prior. Her mouth tightened. The bounder had better have some choice words for Avondale’s treatment of the flowers to redeem himself.

Drake shifted his attention to Lord Avondale.

“Avondale.”

“Drake.”

They exchanged bows.

Emmaline folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot. Drake’s pleasant greeting of Lord I-Kill-Poor-Defenseless-Flowers was certainly not the fierce rebuke she’d hoped. “Ahem.”

Drake sighed. “My apologies. Avondale and I go back to university days. Avondale, may I present Lady Emmaline Fitzhugh? Lady Emmaline, Lord Avondale.”

Her toe ceased tapping mid-movement and hovered a hairsbreadth above the ground. “I don’t want an introduction.”

Avondale straightened the lapels of his maroon jacket. “Well, I say—"

Emmaline spun to face him. “You’ll say what? You had no business destroying the flowers.”

Avondale blinked. “They are just…”

She looked back just in time to see Drake shake his head and realized…he didn’t understand, either.

They weren’t just flowers. Considered small and fragile by most, they were a good deal more resilient and important. They could survive an unexpected frost or chilling deluge and remain unscathed. In spite of their gentle strength, they were viewed as nothing more than a thing of beauty set aside for Society’s pleasure, subject to the whim and fancy of a cruel world that held them in little esteem. When in reality they were so much more. They were the lifeblood of human existence. In that regard, they were not unlike women, which is what made the men’s dismissal so infuriating. It only served as a reminder of Drake’s disinterest, his total lack of caring for her. Why, she was not very different from the bud, trampled beneath man’s place in Society.

Drake said something to Avondale. Her eyes narrowed. She took a step forward. “They are just what?” Emmaline said with lethal calm.

The two men fell silent and eyed her. Avondale had the good sense to be alarmed by her expression. He took a step back and looked to Drake, a helpless gleam in his eyes.

Apparently taking pity on the other man, Drake inserted himself between Emmaline and Lord Avondale. “I’m sure you have pressing business to attend to.”

Avondale nodded vigorously and turned back to the cluster of flowers.

Emmaline gasped. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He scratched his head. “Collecting my cane?”

“Are they really so unimportant that you would grind them beneath the heel of your boots?” Or fail to call for years and years?

“I—”

She pointed a finger at him. “Do not answer that question. You most certainly are not trampling through this garden to retain your weapon.”

A chuckle escaped Drake.

Emmaline speared him with a look, and then returned her attention to Avondale. “I will not allow you to—"

Drake interceded. “Why don’t I purchase you a new walking stick?”

The man gave another tug at his lapels. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve plenty of others.”

Just as Drake most assuredly has other women.

Avondale gave a perfunctory bow and made his good-byes. Leaving her alone with Drake.

“Coward,” she muttered, though the rebuke wasn’t solely reserved for Lord Avondale.

“My lady—”

Emmaline swiveled on her heel and planted her hands on hips. “How could you let him leave after what he did?”

A swift surge of icy fury filled his eyes and an animalistic groan gurgled up from his throat. Emmaline froze. She’d never borne witness to such emotion and her mind numbingly tried to process what words or actions had triggered his response. She took a step back and quickly looked around for the hint of danger that had unleashed this savage creature.

“Did he hurt you?”

His words brought her up short. She cocked her head. “Hurt me? No.” She gestured dumbly to the fragile blue flowers, besieged by a sudden wave of hot embarrassment. “He hurt the forget-me-nots.”

The tension remained in Drake’s stiffly held frame. “He forgot what?”

Emmaline briefly closed her eyes, and shook her head. “The forget-me-nots.”

When he continued to eye her with puzzlement, she dropped her hand, and gestured to the ground. “The flowers.”

Drake laughed and pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead as though he were trying to rid himself of a devilish headache. “What would you have me do? Make Avondale plant new ones?”

This was all a game to him. He would no more do right by those ruined flowers than he would by her. She squared her jaw. “Do you find this amusing?”

“I should think by my reaction you can deduce I’m not amused,” he said.