Chapter 6
T he next four days made the story settle over Emily like a stubborn stain. One she would learn was much harder to get off than she had originally thought.
She walked beside Sybella along the Hyde Park promenade, with Gilbert, the family’s Pomeranian, trotting ahead on a lead he did not deserve, and felt the shift in the air each time a cluster of people noticed her.
The park looked exactly as it ought to—bright and glossy, with carriages rolling at a proper pace. There were ladies in fine walking dresses and gentlemen either accompanying them or engaging in discussion with each other.
It seemed like a perfect afternoon for a walk. There was nothing that screamed out of the ordinary. Perhaps there had been, and Emily had just been blind to it.
It was when a woman in lilac looked straight at her and then leaned toward her companion before Emily had even passed that she began to realize something felt off.
Two other gentlemen across the path lowered their voices in a deliberate way meant to suggest they had not lowered them at all. An older woman who had known her mother for years gave her a smile so careful and distant that it carried more offense than open disdain would have.
Really?
Emily kept her head up anyway. She had learned that much early. If one could not stop people from looking, one could at least refuse to help them enjoy it.
Sybella walked with her usual composure, one gloved hand resting lightly on her parasol, her spectacles catching the pale light. People did not know what to do with her. That was one of her chief strengths.
At that moment, Emily wished she could borrow some of it.
“They are all doing it very badly,” Sybella said quietly.
Emily kept her gaze ahead. “Doing what?”
“ Pretending not to stare.”
That almost made her laugh, but she kept her gaze on the ground anyway.
A young mother passed with two little girls in white pelisses. She gave Emily one quick glance and then drew her daughters a little closer, as though Emily’s scandal might spread by proximity.
Emily’s mouth tightened as she watched the woman go.
“No one even bothers to hear my side.” The words came out sharper than she had intended, though perhaps not sharper than she felt.
“That is the thing I cannot bear. They do not care what happened. They do not care whether I was insulted, cornered, or embarrassed. They have chosen their version already.”
Sybella looked at her. “Truth has always been at a disadvantage beside amusement.”
“I know.” Emily’s hand curled into her skirt. “I am simply tired of being amusing to people who would never survive being me.”
That drew her sister’s full attention.
Sybella’s mouth softened by a degree. “You are surviving it very well.”
“I do not feel I am.”
“You are still walking here.”
Emily gave a short breath that was not quite a laugh. “Only because hiding at home would please them too much.”
That, at least, was true.
For four days, she had lived under the shade of the garden trees, thinking about the Duke’s proposal over and over. She had done the right thing by saying no, and she knew it. The knowledge, however, did nothing to soften the sting of what came after.
Ahead of them, their mother had paused to speak with an acquaintance near the fountain. Emily kept her eyes on the environment around her.
That was when she noticed a little girl in a pale bonnet staring at Gilbert. Beside her stood an older boy, one Emily assumed to be the girl’s brother solely from how close they stood and from the look on his face that seemed to say he wanted to be anywhere but here.
And Gilbert, foolish little tyrant that he was, had already spotted them as well, growling under his breath.
Emily’s eyes shifted to the dog and then back to the children, and she knew almost immediately that disaster was about to strike.
“Oh no,” she breathed.
Before she could even begin to do anything, the lead slipped, and Gilbert shot forward, his ears flying and his legs a blur. The little girl laughed and darted after him without waiting for anyone’s permission.
“Young girl!” Frances called.
The child did not stop.
Gilbert reached the edge of the pond path, veered hard around, and vanished under the railing gap. The little girl lunged after him at the wrong angle. Her foot slid on the damp edge of the path, and one small scream tore from her before she toppled straight into the water.
Oh no.
Emily dropped her parasol and ran.
She heard Sybella call out her name once, but she ignored it. The little girl was in the pond, bonnet askew, hands striking out with panic.
She stopped by the edge of the pond. Then, she took a few steps back, gathered her skirts, and waded into the water.
The coldness shocked her from the knees up, then higher, cold enough to seize her breath for a second.
She pushed forward anyway, one hand on the slick stone edge for balance, eyes fixed on the girl.
Then, before she could blink, someone else swam past her with far greater speed.
That cologne…
The Duke reached the water before she did.
One moment, she stood still, confused as to what was happening; the next, he was there with his coat already cast aside, boots in the water, one arm closing around the girl while the other caught Gilbert by the scruff.
For one absurd second, the image fixed in Emily’s mind with perfect clarity: the Duke in the pond, with the girl tucked against one side and Gilbert held aloft in the other hand like some muddy offering to a god. It would have been almost funny had her heart not been pounding so hard.
He turned at once and carried both toward the edge. The little girl’s brother was there now, pale and furious, reaching for her as the Duke lifted her into his waiting arms. Gilbert wriggled indignantly and received no sympathy at all.
Only then did the Duke look back and see Emily still in the water.
She had gone in far enough that retreat was no longer graceful.
Her hem clung to her legs as the cold seeped through her stockings.
The water dragged at her dress with every small movement, and the awful fact that a crowd was watching struck her all at once.
As if she had any reason to embarrass herself even further.
She couldn’t believe this was happening.
She simply couldn’t believe it. No one except the Duke was trying to help. Because why in God’s name would they?
The Duke waded back one pace and held out his hand. “Do you need help too?”
His dry tone almost made her laugh from sheer nerves. As it was, she could only stare at him, breathless and wet and entirely too aware that half the park was watching.
“Yes,” she said.
His hand closed around hers, and he drew her up with strength, steadying her at the waist the moment her soaked slipper slipped against the stone.
The contact sent a rush of heat through her that had nothing to do with the water.
Once she reached the path, she realized with horror what the crowd was seeing. Her wet dress had become nearly transparent where it clung to her body, and her stockings were outlined beneath it. Her hair had begun to loosen at the temples, and she felt the air brush her skin.
At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to disappear, and she could tell from the look on the Duke’s face that he saw it too.
Good God!
Color rose in her cheeks as she watched him strip out of his coat, step close, and wrap it around her shoulders. The heavy wool closed over her front, hiding the rest of her body and trapping his cologne around her.
He bent his head toward hers so that only she could hear. “I deeply apologize for the trouble my sister has caused you.”
Emily blinked. Sister. That would make the young boy his brother as well.
Of course, he had hurried into the water. He had saved them because he had to.
She clutched the coat closed anyway, trying hard to ignore the eyes looking at her from every corner of the park. She tried to linger a little bit more in the thick stillness that surrounded her, but unfortunately, it did not last long enough.
A wave of voices broke through the silence, either asking questions or making exclamations. The little girl—Adam’s sister—was wrapped in a shawl and already protesting that she was perfectly well. Gilbert, on the other hand, shook pond water over everyone within reach.
The young boy looked pale with fury and relief, and Frances had one hand pressed to her chest and the other clasping the girl’s shoulder, as if to keep her from hurling herself into fresh disaster.
Emily hated the eyes on her and hated even more that she couldn’t say anything to defend herself. She couldn’t even say anything at all, and she needed to. Her eyes remained on the ground when she spoke.
“What is her name?”
The Duke’s surprise was evident in his voice. “What?”
“Your sister. What is her name?”
He exhaled. “Harriet.”
“Harriet,” she repeated. “And the boy?”
“Theodore. It is a long story.”
Emily nodded and said nothing else. Instead, she remained standing in the center of it all, soaked to the bone and wrapped in his coat, which made the whole thing look far worse than it felt.
Or perhaps it felt exactly that bad. The people around them would never again want for gossip material. They would dine on this for weeks .
“Oh, for God’s sake, what is wrong with you two!” a familiar voice cut through the murmurs.
Emily closed her eyes for one brief second.
Dominic.
Her brother came striding down the path with all the exhausted outrage of a man who was tired of seeing his family humiliated. He took in Harriet, Gilbert, Emily in the Duke’s coat, and the Duke himself, and whatever he saw on the onlookers’ faces only worsened his temper.
He stopped in front of the Duke, his expression just as grave.
“Salbury,” the Duke greeted.
“Please stop. There is no way forward anymore, as you can see.”
“Dom—”
Dominic shot Emily a glare that froze the rest of the words in her mouth. Then, he turned back to the Duke.“You have to marry her.”
The Duke did not step back. He did not bristle either. He looked exactly as he had looked in the garden after the punch—grave, controlled, and infuriatingly composed.
“She is the one who refused me. I will not force her.”
The answer should have relieved Emily. In some buried, aching place, it almost did. At least he would not let Dominic treat her as something to be handed from one man’s authority to another’s. At least that much remained hers.
It also left her standing there before half the park with the problem fully alive and no cover over it. For the love of God, she was covered in a coat that belonged to the same man everyone already suspected her of messing with.
Dominic gave a short, incredulous laugh. “I will force you, if I must. I truly do not want to duel you.”
“I do not want to do that either.”
Dominic narrowed his eyes. “And why is that, Huxley?”
The Duke remained where he was, his gaze unwavering. “Because one of us will fall, and it will not be me.”
A few people close enough to hear looked scandalized.
Dominic stared at the Duke, furious enough to swallow the park whole if he wanted to. However, before he could answer, Harriet brightened and stepped forward, her voice and words sending everyone into a trance.
“Is this the lady who will be making the baby girl?”
The first thing Emily heard after that was her mother making a strangled sound and Theodore muttering Harriet’s name under his breath. Dominic looked ready to fling himself into the pond and remain there.
Harriet, undeterred by their horror, smiled at Emily with complete sincerity. “We could be best friends.”
The words rang far too clearly in the hush that followed.
Around them, faces sharpened, and Emily saw the exact moment the last scraps of ambiguity vanished from the onlookers’ minds. They had been watching a spectacle before. Now, they were witnessing a conclusion.
She understood that before anyone else seemed ready to say it.
She looked at Harriet first. The child stood rosy-cheeked in borrowed shawls with wet hems and shining eyes. Then she looked at her mother, drawn and steady.
If she refused now, there would be no retreat into privacy. The scandal would swell. It would cling not only to her, but also to the Duke, to his family, to Harriet with her innocent mouth and Theodore, that sweet little boy.
The whole thing had moved beyond her capacity for endurance.
Emily drew the coat closer around herself and exhaled. There was only one option left.
“It is all right,” she said, surprised by how calm her voice was. “It looks like we must marry, after all.”
Dominic let out a breath. Whether of relief or defeat, she could not have said. Frances closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again as if bracing herself for the next hundred practical burdens. Theodore looked from Adam to Emily with an expression Emily could not read.
Emily, on the other hand, could not bear another second of the crowd’s attention. She turned toward Sybella, the one person who might help her walk away without falling apart in public.
The Duke’s hand, however, closed around her arm before she could move. Even through wet sleeves and heavy wool, she felt the heat of his hand and the precise control in the way he held her, enough to keep her but not enough to keep her still.
When she looked at him, his face had changed. The composure remained, but something different lurked beneath it now. Something she could have sworn looked like remorse.
“I am sorry,” he said quietly. “You should not have to marry a beast.”
For one instant, the whole dreadful park faded away, and Emily’s throat tightened. The tears gathering in her eyes felt inevitable now, and she hated that she would have to be vulnerable in front of him even before the marriage.
No, no.
She needed to say something. Anything .
“Oh, do not worry.” She forced herself to smile. “I will make the best beast’s bride.”