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The Marquess turned towards the Viscount, who was leering at Emily. She glared hatefully at him in return, but instead of taking offense, he seemed to revel in it.
Scoundrel!Emily cursed him in her heart.
“Pray tell, what do you have in mind?”
Lord Chaney disregarded the clipped tones with which the Marquess addressed him and smiled, “We can put all these behind us. No need to force His Grace into a marriage.” He turned towards Emily and smiled even wider. “I can keep my silence—if you will agree to give me your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
“Absolutely not!” Emily cried defiantly. “Father, I—”
“Silence!” Lord Rutbridge glared at her. “I do not want to hear another word from you, young lady. After tonight, you will be confined to your rooms. You are not to take one step out the door until we have sorted everything out.”
Emily bit her lip and averted her tearful gaze from her father.
“I think we have had enough for one night,” the Marquess announced softly, his voice brooking no objection from his wife, son, and daughter. “We must leave before we make a scene.” He turned towards Lord Chaney and inclined his head briefly. “I shall consider your proposal, Lord Chaney. As for you,” he regarded Daniel icily, “I will expect you to call upon us soon, Your Grace.”
The Duke of Gilleton stiffened and nodded imperceptibly at the Marquess, before stepping aside. The Marchioness followed after her husband, a slight sneer on her face.
Benedict did not even deign to look at Daniel.
Emily was the last to follow after her family, intentionally hanging back so that she might speak to him one last time.
“I never meant for this to happen,” she told him softly, pausing quietly at his side. Although her eyes clouded with tears, she held her chin up high. “I would like to discuss this further with you, Your Grace. Please let me know if I can speak to you at a more convenient time.”
She did not wait for his reply as she followed the rest of her family, trailing behind them. She was nearly out the door when she felt someone grab her arm. Emily turned around to find the Viscount smiling at her, his handsome features twisted into a vicious sneer.
“I would not hang on to hope for him, my sweet,” he murmured in her ear. “You should know better than to expect more from someone like him.”
Emily twisted her arm from his grasp and glared at him. “Better him thanyou.”
The Viscount narrowed his eyes at her before smiling pleasantly and stepping back.
“You will be mine, Emily Montgomery,” she heard him swear. “I will make sure of it.”
Emily shuddered at the confidence in his words. With her reputation and that of her family hanging in the balance, she knew that he very well could do as he threatened.
I would rather die than commit the rest of my lifetime to such a man, she swore to herself.Nor would I ever force a man against his will to marry me.
As they waited sullenly for the carriage, she looked up to the stars, her heart sinking painfully as she realized that her life, as she knew it, was over. Her only recourse was to marry either the Viscount of Chaney, a man she had grown to loathe, or the Duke of Gilleton, a man who did not want to marryat all.
Either way, she was doomed to a lifetime of misery with either one.
She bit her lip as she regarded the moon through a haze of tears. How could a night that had started with so much promise end up like this? How could the fairytale she had secretly longed for end up becoming a complete and utter nightmare?
However, if there was one thing that Emily was sure of, it was that she always had a choice in everything. This time, she was not going to allow anyone to snatch her choice from her.
CHAPTER13
The lights in the Montgomery townhouse blazed deep into the night as the family gathered in the salon, the events of the ball weighing heavily on each one of them.
The Marquess of Rutbridge looked as if he had aged decades in the span of a few hours. His wife, Lady Horatia, sat in uncharacteristic silence, occasionally shooting glares at her stepdaughter as she fidgeted with her lace handkerchief.
Her older brother was pacing the floor so much that Emily feared he would blaze a track through the carpet.
“Well, Emily,” her father said wearily. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Emily looked to him and sighed despondently, “What does it matter what I say? Have you not already decided what is to be my fate?”
“Insolent child!” Lady Horatia sputtered, pointing a trembling finger at her. “Your father has shown you much consideration after all you have done tonight. In any other household, you would not be afforded the same courtesy!”
