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would tell you that kindness is not a trait that is very helpful. Especially during a crisis such as we are in now. I’ve done very little of the actual work of saving us.”

His jaw hardened then. Because, in this moment, he understood several things about Emily that he hadn’t before. She was passive, and caring, and being trampled by her stronger sisters, and she needed a hero again.

Not from bandits, thieves, or kidnappers but from well-intentioned family who were stealing her confidence. “Then your family has never had to go without such emotion. If they had, they’d understand its value far more keenly.” He reached for her hand then and pulled it into his own. He wished she had no gloves; he’d like to feel her skin. “You are far more valuable than you realize.” Then he looked at Eliza, his face set in hard lines. “Or your family gives you credit for.”

“I am not as smart or determined or personable…” she started, but he gave her hand a squeeze and she quieted.

“What you lack is not determination or intelligence.” He needed her to understand this. “It’s confidence. And you won’t build yours up while others are tearing you down.”

He gave Eliza another glare and she had the decency to drop her chin low as she stared at the floor. “I can be rather overbearing. I’m sorry, Em.”

Emily straightened in her seat but left her hand in his. “Don’t fret, Eliza. You’re only trying to help.”

And that, right there, was what he wanted more than anything. That unconditional love that was so rare and so beautiful. Would she give such emotion to him? He wanted it. More than anything. More than anyone.

“Emily,” Eliza said. “He’s right. Your ability to give love is unparalleled, and truly, I don’t know if we’d have come out of this without you. You’ve kept us connected when we might have fallen apart.”

Emily drew in a sharp breath, her eyes misting as she finally let go of his hand to give her sister a hug. He missed her touch and his fingers curled into a fist to keep from reaching out to her again.

The sisters let go of one another and Eliza straightened in her seat. “Can we get back to the topic of Abigail? What are we going to do on that front?”

Menace let out a sigh. “May I propose, my love, that you try and get to know Blasphemy better before you judge?”

Eliza made a sound a bit like a snort. “I know enough. You think this match is a good idea?”

Menace shrugged. “I know that he’s a bit rough around the edges, but he’s a good man. Give him a chance.”

Eliza sat back in her seat crossing her arms. “It’s difficult with all the cursing. The man is a fountain of profanity. And I’m not the one you should be concerned about. When Abigail finds out all of this…”

Even Brandon had to chuckle at that.

Menace did too. “Well, he’ll be on his best behavior tonight. It’s the king’s ball.”

Eliza gave a nod and Emily shifted toward him, her brown eyes achingly warm and sweet. “Does this invitation mean that yesterday went well?”

“It did,” he said as the carriage slowed down, having entered the line of carriages waiting to unload their attendees.

She gave a nod, her smile soft and genuine. “I’m so glad for you.”

He crinkled his brow. She should be glad for both of them. As his duchess, she’d benefit from this as much as he did. “I’m glad for you too.”

She looked away then, looking out the window.

He frowned. Had he just said something to displease her?

Emily drew in a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart.

He’d been forgiven by the crown. Did he still wish to marry her? That was easy. He’d never wished to marry her.

He’d yet to actually ask, and she had the sinking feeling that now that he was an eligible duke, the truth was…well, honestly…he could do far better than her.

She clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. She was expected to be a doctor’s wife or a merchant’s. They were safe choices befitting her station.

And if no scandal had touched her, she could be still.

If Brandon no longer wished to marry her. Which he likely didn’t. He’d surely be relieved to be rid of her.

Despite the kind words that he’d spoken to her, she’d also overheard what he’d said to Bash and knew that he would do better to marry a woman of the peerage with a nice dowry and an impeccable reputation.

Not the daughter of a merchant, no matter how rich.

The carriage finally stopped in front of the massive doors of the palace and the men exited, handing out Eliza and Emily.

Isabella and Abigail waited for them, Bash and Blasphemy standing on either side of the sisters.

Abigail was making an excellent effort not to look at the man.

And for once, Emily could not worry about her younger sister. Brandon held out his elbow and her hand fit into the crook of his arm.

They were sweeping up the stairs.

She knew they’d separate before they were announced. Which was better. But she allowed her fingers to play over the lean muscles in his biceps. She wanted to remember this moment forever.

The man who’d haunted her dreams was by her side and she’d enjoy that fact for as long as she was able.

The first part of the evening passed in a blur of colors and sound. The king’s orchestra was beyond compare as were the dresses of the attendees.

Everyone wore their finest for the king and it made Emily acutely aware of her own failings.

The dress she’d considered so beautiful seemed plain by comparison. She pressed her hands down the silk as she stood with her sisters in a line near the edge of the crowd.

Still, Brandon had asked her to dance and being in his arms had been beyond compare as they’d spun about the crowded floor.

A larger man

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