Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride (Scandalous Seasons #1)(89)

A flash of fury sparked in her brown eyes. “I understand you feel guilty. It is however, unpardonable for you to say such a thing.” Fury made her chest rise and fall swiftly, it reddened her cheeks. She stormed across the room and planted herself in front of him. “How dare you say that?” She jabbed a finger at his chest.

Drake dragged a hand through his hair and fixed his stare at a point beyond her shoulder, unable to meet her accusing gaze. Fire fairly leapt in her eyes. Emmaline should be furious…but only with the fact that he’d subjected her to a life of dangerous uncertainty.

“We are not discussing this tonight,” he growled. He stepped around her and made his way toward the door. She followed close at his heels.

“You are not to walk away from this discussion,” Emmaline said.

He stopped so abruptly she careened into his back.

His spun around and his arms came up instinctively to right her. He steadied her and then dropped his arms by his side. He wasn’t fit to touch her. Drake swallowed back a wave of despair. “Good night, my lady.”

Drake beat a low, formal bow, and left.





Chapter 40

The next morning, Emmaline sat on the deep blue velvet sofa in Drake’s office. She’d read and re-read the same sentence of the volume in her hands. With a sigh, she set aside his copy of The Castle of Wolfenbach.

A bright stream of sunlight angled through the narrow opening in the curtains. Emmaline rubbed a hand over her eyes. She’d not been able to think of anything other than the moment Drake had walked out on her last evening. She had longed to go after him but had not wanted to push Drake when he’d been so clearly vulnerable. Instead, she had lain in bed, counting down the evening minutes until she’d eventually fallen into a restless slumber.

For surely the hundredth time since she’d entered his office that morning, Emmaline consulted the grating clock as it tick-tocked away on the fireplace mantle. Ten o’clock.

Where in blazes was he? He could be at Hyde Park? Why hadn’t she thought of the possibility sooner? She should have searched him out. And what, wander over all of London for her new husband? Oh, how the gossips would love that story.

On the heel of that thought came the realization that any hint of scandal where she and Drake were concerned would result in an appearance from her far too-overprotective brother. Therefore it was in her best interest to glean his whereabouts before the speculative ton did. She pressed her fingers along her temple line and then winced at the painful reminder of last evening.

He’d promised her they would speak in the morning. And instead, he’d left her. She battled down the hurt that tugged at her heart and fed the healthy anger that enlivened her. How dare he lie to her? She was not a child. She was his wife. Drake owed her a conversation.

Emmaline jumped to her feet, and rang for a servant. She paced back and forth until a servant arrived.

“My lady?”

“Will you ask Mrs. Brown to come here?”

The maid dipped a curtsy. “Of course, my lady.”

Emmaline rang her hands and walked over to the window. She pulled back the curtain and stared unseeing down into the bustling street below. A fashionably dressed couple caught her notice. With their arms linked, they strolled leisurely down the pavement and seemed unaware of the hurried movements of the strangers around them. The couple wore matching expressions of simple, uncomplicated adoration. An awful niggling of jealousy crept into Emmaline’s mind. How she longed for that. Not just for herself, but for her and Drake.

“My lady!” Mrs. Brown’s booming voice interrupted her musings.

Emmaline startled and turned to face the housekeeper. “Mrs. Brown, good morning to you. I was wondering if you had happened to see His Lordship today?”

Mrs. Brown’s eyes went wide and her big mouth quivered. “I certainly have, my lady.” Tears smarted behind the lady’s eyes and she dashed a hand across her cheeks.

A panicky fear clawed at Emmaline. Her fingers curled into tight balls at her sides, and she dug her nails into the pad of her palm so hard, she nearly drew blood. “What is it, Mrs. Brown? Is he unwell?”

The normally garrulous housekeeper remained silent, only serving to raise Emmaline’s sense of dread. With a determined step, she crossed over to Mrs. Brown and gripped the woman’s arm gently, but firmly.

The servant made a choked sound in her throat which added to Emmaline’s terror. “He is in your chambers, my lady.”

Emmaline dropped Mrs. Brown’s arm and blinked. “My chambers?” Drake had in fact been within the townhouse the entire time? Could she have been so foolish as to have missed his presence all morning?

Before Mrs. Brown could reply, Emmaline set out at a near run and flew abovestairs toward her chambers. She entered the room, nearly out of breath from her exertions and stumbled to a halt at the sight of her trunks out.Drake stood in the center of the bedroom with his hands clasped behind his back, directing the packing of her belongings.

“Where are we going?” she blurted.

Drake didn’t as much as glance at Emmaline. He murmured something to her maid, Grace who dipped a curtsy and left. It didn’t escape Emmaline’s notice how Grace pointedly avoided making eye contact with her. A frisson of unease worked a path down her spine.

As soon as the door closed behind Grace, Emmaline turned her attention to Drake. His intense emerald gaze was trained on her bruised cheek. “Look at me, Drake.”