Turning his attention towards her uncle, the duke remarked, “Long carriage rides can be quite taxing for a lady’s delicate constitution.”
“That they can be,” Lord Taylor agreed.
The duke pushed back his chair and slowly rose. “Perhaps we can adjourn to my study for some port while the ladies enjoy some tea in the drawing room.”
“What a splendid idea,” Lady Taylor said, rising.
While Emmeline rose, she noticed the duke lewdly perusing the length of her, his eyes sparking in approval.
“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 door had 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.
Betty interjected, “Which means he won’t live much longer, and you will be a rich widow. Just think of the freedom you will possess.”
George nodded. “It’s true,” he responded. “We spoke at great length about your jointure, and I ensured that you will be well taken care of upon his death.”
Emmeline sighed. “There must be another option for me.”
“Frankly, there is not,” George said. “The duke is gracious enough to marry you without a dowry. Need I remind you that your dowry went to help pay your father’s debts after his untimely death?”
“No, you don’t,” Emmeline muttered.
“The duke’s solicitor approached us after he saw you at the opera,” George reminded her. “If it wasn’t for that, we would not be in this equally beneficial situation.”
“It doesn’t seem beneficial,” she said. “I feel like a lamb being led to the slaughter.”
Betty frowned. “No marriage is perfect, but if you can just bide your time until the duke dies, you will be free to live however you see fit.”
“What if he lives to be a hundred?” she asked.
“That would be most unfortunate,” Betty remarked, “but it is quite unlikely.”
George adjusted his white cravat. “The duke is already halfway in the grave. He just requires an heir.”
“What if I am unable to produce a son?”
Betty gasped. “You must,” she declared. “Your entire future depends on it.”
“I don’t think that is something one can plan on,” Emmeline pointed out.
“The duke has sired boys before with his mistresses, so we know that he is capable of producing an heir,” George said.
Emmeline pressed her lips together. “How grand.”
“You are looking at this the wrong way,” Betty pressed. “Marrying the duke will open doors to you that were previously closed. You will be welcomed at every ball, soirée, and social gathering the ton offers.”
“I care little about that,” Emmeline admitted.
Betty let out an annoyed sigh. “What is it that you do want, Emmeline?”
“I want to fall in love and marry a man of my choosing.”
“What the duke is offering you is better than love,” Betty asserted. “He is offering you a chance at living comfortably for the rest of your days. I must say that security is more important than love.”
George spoke up. “As for marrying a man of your choosing,” he began, “what man would marry you without a dowry?”
Emmeline remained quiet, knowing her aunt and uncle had made valid points.
“If you
