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“You are looking especially lovely this evening, Miss Lockhart,” the duke said as his eyes remained fixed on the round neckline of her white muslin gown.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she muttered as she resisted the urge to flee from his presence.
Her aunt came around the table to stand next to her. In a hushed voice, she ordered, “Behave, Emmeline.”
The duke stepped closer to her, and he finally brought his gaze up to meet hers. “I hope to hear you play the pianoforte this evening.”
“I would be honored,” she replied.
He extended his wrinkled hand and gave her an expectant look. Emmeline stared at his hand for a moment before she tentatively placed hers in his.
His crooked fingers closed around her hand and he brought it up to his lips. As he pressed his wet, slimy lips against her bare knuckles, she felt the bile rise up in her throat. She didn’t know how much longer she could go along with this engagement.
Fortunately, he released her hand with a self-satisfied smile. “I must admit that I am looking forward to our wedding night.”
Unsure of how to reply, Emmeline remained quiet, hoping he would step back and adjourn to his study.
“You are speechless,” the duke said, amused. “That is an admirable quality for a young woman to have.”
Emmeline’s lips parted in surprise at the duke’s remarks, but before she could release her sharp tongue on him, he left the room without a parting glance at her.
“Well, I have never been so embarrassed,” her aunt mumbled under her breath. “Your behavior was atrocious.”
“My behavior?” Emmeline questioned.
Lady Taylor gave her a disbelieving look. “We shall discuss this later,” she said before departing from the room.
Emmeline stared at her aunt’s retreating figure, wondering if anyone would truly miss her if she climbed out of the window and ran far, far away.
The coach doorhad barely closed when her dark-haired, petite aunt turned a heated gaze towards her. “Your behavior this evening was horrendous, Emmeline.”
“Was it?” Emmeline questioned.
“Yes, it was,” Betty replied. “Frankly, it was embarrassing.”
Emmeline glanced out the window as the coach jerked forward. “You are working yourself into a frenzy for nothing because I don’t think the duke heard half of what I said.”
“That is beside the point,” Betty continued, “you mustn’t anger the duke.”
“Why?” Emmeline asked, bringing her aunt’s gaze back to meet hers. “With any luck, he will call off the wedding.”
Betty stared at her with a dumbfounded expression. “Don’t you want to be the Duchess of Billingham?”
“No,” she replied. “I never have.”
“That is just foolish talk,” Betty said. “Your uncle worked hard to negotiate this advantageous marriage between you and the duke.”
“Without my permission, I might add,” Emmeline remarked.
Betty stiffened. “Do I truly need to remind you that you have no dowry?”
“I am well aware of that fact.”
Turning her gaze towards her husband, Betty asked, “Will you try to talk some sense into this obstinate girl, George?”
Her uncle gave her a pointed look. “You must understand the advantages of marrying the Duke of Billingham,” he started. “You will become a duchess, and your station will become elevated.”
“But the duke is nearly eighty years old,” Emmeline complained.
