He clenched his jaw, feeling as though something inside of him was ripping apart. If she could have only said she loved him, it would have been enough for him to take a risk on this crazy venture, no matter what Miss Parkhurst had said.
But she’d hesitated.
It was a split second pause like that which made all the difference on the battlefield between life and death.
He blew out a heavy breath. He knew things had been progressing entirely too fast between them, and because of his consuming desire for Emary, he couldn’t think straight. Perhaps it was time to take a step back and evaluate how he truly felt, if only to reassure himself that he wasn’t about to make a terrible mistake, that he wasn’t confusing lust with…something else. He needed to put a wedge between them, to gain some space to think.
“I’m returning to my estate in the morning,” he announced bluntly. “I have some things that I need to take care of, that need my personal involvement.”
He could read the disappointment in her shimmering gaze, but she merely nodded. “Will you be back on Sunday?” she asked softly.
He heard what was left unspoken. …when the last of the banns are read? He frowned lightly. “I’m not certain.”
“I see.” She visibly swallowed.
Without another look at her, he stepped out of the carriage and held his hand out. After a brief hesitation, she set her hand in his. It wasn’t until she’d stepped to the ground that he looked at her. His heart instantly stuttered in his chest, she looked so beautiful in the moonlight. Her breath left her slightly parted lips on a little white cloud, the cold night air already starting to turn her pert nose a charming pink. Her ebony hair shone like a night full of stars, while her brown eyes shimmered with a mixture of swirling emotion. Unable to resist, he bent down and brushed his mouth over hers.
He saw the moisture well in her eyes when he pulled back. “I wish you didn’t have to go, Donovan.”
He was torn by her unspoken plea and his own need for distance, but in the end, self-preservation won out. “Goodbye, Miss Pageant.”
Donovan caught the glisten of a tear in the moonlight as it coursed down her cheek before she turned and disappeared into the house. It didn’t escape his attention that she didn’t look back at him.
He told himself it was for the best, but as he climbed back into the carriage, he couldn’t ignore the stab of guilt that followed.
When his mother joined him a few moments later, she looked at him in horror. “What have you done? Miss Pageant is quite upset.” She stilled. “Please tell me you haven’t called off the engagement.”
He glared at her. Now that Emary wasn’t there to distract him, he found that his ire was piqued at his pride being questioned. “Not yet.” He tapped the roof of the carriage.
Caroline crossed her arms as they set into motion. “Surely you’re not going to believe some envious chit’s ramblings over what you already know about Miss Pageant’s character?”
He clenched his jaw but didn’t reply.
She shook her head. “I never pegged you for a fool, Donovan. Don’t make me rescind my decision now.”
He felt his irritation spike higher. “I asked her why she wanted to marry me,” he stated firmly. “She couldn’t give me an answer.”
She lifted a brow. “Did you tell her why you wanted to marry her?”
He ground his teeth. “No. But then I wasn’t the one who has been resorting to games and trickery to become a duchess!” His voice had risen throughout his tirade. He shoved a hand through his hair.
Instead of chiding him for his loss of temper, his mother merely sighed heavily. “I won’t pretend that she could have gone about this entire situation differently, but don’t we all make errors in judgment from time to time? She’s young and impressionable. She had a large role to fill as a diamond of the first water—”
“Yes. And used me in the process,” he growled.
His mother tilted his head. “Are you going to tell me that you didn’t use her as well?”
He frowned. “What the devil are you talking about?”
“You never wanted to marry. It was only through my constant coercion that you even agreed to hold that ball. Yes, Emary may have decided that she needed a plan to get you to notice her, as most women do. But didn’t you also use her to delay choosing a bride?”
Donovan couldn’t deny that claim, for he knew it was true. “That doesn’t excuse her actions.”
“Perhaps not, but doesn’t she deserve a chance to explain herself? Or would you rather condemn her without the benefit of a trial first?”
He turned his head to stare out the window. “I just…need some time. Surely you can’t fault me for that, at least?”
His mother was quiet for a time. Finally, she relented with, “Of course. Just make sure you don’t take too long to come to a decision. A woman like Emary Pageant doesn’t come along every day.”
Chapter 9
Donovan’s absence left a hole in the middle of Emary’s chest. She couldn’t believe how much she ached for someone after such a short acquaintance. But then, he had made her feel things that she’d never imagined were possible.
So why hadn’t she been able to tell him what he’d wanted when he’d asked? What had kept her from throwing her arms around him and confessing her love — the feeling she had long known with every fiber of her being?
All her life, when she’d dreamt of the day she would meet the man she intended to spend the rest of her life with, did she ever picture a man like Donovan Wainwright. But truly, in her eyes, there was no other man who could equal him. And it wasn’t the fact he was a duke, or because his scar gave him a roguish appeal, or how she melted under those piercing blue eyes, but it was the man himself. The more she knew about Donovan the man, the more fascinated she became. Not only was he a man of honor, a war hero who had fought valiantly in the war with France, but he took his responsibilities seriously. She knew he wouldn’t hesitate to speak out against injustice in Parliament, nor would he fail to take action in public if he thought he was fighting for a cause that was right.
It was him, and not his title, that had stolen her heart.
But as the days slowly trudged along and Sunday morning arrived with no word from her affianced, Emary began to fear that this was one vow that he might not actually follow through on. But then, he’d made no promises. All along, their betrothal was supposed to be nothing but a sham. And honestly, she knew she had no one to blame but herself if things turned sour. She’d embarked on this foolish endeavor, one that might very well bring about her own ruin.
And wouldn’t Miss Parkhurst crow about my downfall, she thought rather uncharitably.
“My lady, you have a caller.”
Emary lifted her head from where she’d been hunched over her writing desk. At least she had accomplished something during these past six days of misery. The dreaded words that had been absent had finally arrived. The ink that stained her fingers would attest to that.
Emary quickly checked her appearance in the mirror and then nearly flew down the stairs. But when she walked into the drawing room, it wasn’t Windwood that she saw, but rather the dowager duchess. And according to Donovan’s mother’s solemn expression, any hope that Emary had been retaining for the duke’s return abruptly dwindled.
