Page 8 of Mad Duke March

Now it was all gone. And Emily would likely have to marry Bernard in old rags, not to mention her hair. More pressingly, her mother and siblings’ appearance would be reduced to shambles as well.

Her mother’s eyes turned liquid before she embraced Emily and patted her head. “Oh, my poor child.”

Emily let out a wretched sob as she sank deeper into her mother’s arms. “I was humiliated, hurt… I ruined my clothing, my hair, and lost all the money.” Her voice grew hoarse, and she sniffed every so often, her words muffled against her mother’s frock.

“Don’t cry, child,” her mother said, her fingers weaving through Emily’s short hair. “Everything will turn out well.”

Emily could handle almost anything. She would be fine with scolding, and she would stand strong through recriminations and accusations. Because ultimately, she deserved it all.

But her mother’s kindness was something that melted her soul.

Emily had to be brave and strong for her entire family ever since her father’s death five years ago. Her mother was sickly often. She did as much as she could around the household when she felt better, but all the financial burdens had fallen onto Emily’s fragile shoulders.

Moments like this, however, were when Emily remembered why she was still standing, why she was able to bear it all. Because no matter what, she had her mother at her side. A mother who always supported her, loved her, and comforted her. A mother who never judged her, even when she should have.

Emily raised her head and wiped her tears, her voice shaking as she said, “Yes, it will. Because I’ll fix it. I’ll go to Bernard, explain everything, and hope that wagging tongues haven’t turned him against me yet.”

Her mother shook her head, cupping Emily’s cheek tenderly, and wiping away the tears with her thumb. “If he truly loves you, nothing anybody says will matter to him. You shouldn’t worry.”

“But I have failed him, Mama. I shall come to his home in rags, with nothing to bring to the table but a few mouths to feed and a scandal. I won’t even have a decent wedding gown.”

Her mother patted her cheek lovingly. “Yes, my darling. You shall.” She gently opened the palm of her other hand and nudged it toward Emily. There nestled a simple silver wedding band with Amelia, her mother’s name, inscribed on the inside. Her mother’s wedding band. “We can take it to the pawnbroker tomorrow. A simple silver band won’t fetch much, but it should be enough to buy lace and silk. We won’t be able to purchase new clothing, but I can fix your favorite gown for your wedding.”

Emily’s eyes widened. “You want me to sell your wedding band?”

Her mother just shrugged, her lips pursed, her features unreadable. “It’s just a ring, darling.”

“It is not! It is the band Papa put on your finger when you wed. It is the last thing you have of him. As you said, it won’t fetch much, and it will be lost forever!”

“It is not the last thing I have of him, darling,” her mother said softly. “You and your siblings are the first, the last, and the most important things your father gave me. And he wouldn’t want you to suffer just so we could keep the ring in the family. He loved you more than that ring. And so do I.” She took Emily’s hands in hers and squeezed. “Now, you can feel pity for your situation for a little while, that’s quite fine. I will be right here to comfort you. But once you’re done, we can sell that ring, use that money to fix your gown, and go to Bernard to make arrangements for your upcoming nuptials.”

Tears glistened in Emily’s eyes. “But, Mother—”

“No buts, darling. I have had the most wonderful marriage anyone could have ever had. And if this ring helps you get your turn… I couldn’t have asked for more.”

Emily wiped her tears and licked her dry and puffy lips. She would never sell her mother’s ring. She would marry wearing rags before she would part with a symbol of the eternal love her mother had for her father. But the fact that her mother was willing to part with it just to make life easier for Emily meant a lot to her. “Thank you, Mama.”

“Of course, my child.” She caressed Emily’s hair. “Sometimes I think you forget that I am the mother, not you. I am the one who is supposed to take care of you. And I shall always be by your side.”

Emily relaxed against her mother’s soft shoulder and inhaled the familiar scent of lavender, feeling safe again.

“Now that I see your mood has brightened,” her mother said, “I think you’re ready to read this missive.” She pulled out an envelope from the pocket of her skirt and handed it to Emily.

“What is it?” Emily asked as she took it with trembling fingers before quickly drying her tears with the sleeves of her gown.

Her mother stood and dusted her skirts. “It’s a letter from Bernard. It came just a few minutes ago. I shall leave you to read it on your own time. But call me if you need anything.” With a quick smile, her mother turned away and left the room.

Emily hastily opened the letter, her heart racing in her chest as if she’d run for miles. Her hands shook as her gaze ran down the lines of the missive.

Dearest Emily,

My heart is heavy as an anvil as I commit these words to paper. Rumors, like venomous serpents, have slithered their way to my ears, carrying tales of your entanglement with the Duke of Tyrone, poisoning the well of love in my soul.

What? Emily couldn’t believe her eyes. Cold sweat covered her body as she skimmed through the rest of the letter, catching glimpses of sentences that shattered her heart.

Your betrayal has torn at the very essence of my being…

The sweet melodies of your promises now ring hollow…