Updated Apr 18, 2026 • ~11 min read
Chapter 12: Scandal Brewing
Emmeline
Emmy is reading in the library two weeks after her father’s funeral—trying to distract herself from loneliness with military history that she’s not really absorbing—when Mrs. Winters appears with an expression of clear concern and a sealed letter in her hand that makes Emmy’s stomach clench with immediate anxiety because nothing good ever arrives in letters delivered with worried expressions.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Winters says carefully. “This just arrived by special messenger from London. From Lady Margaret Hartley—His Grace’s sister. She marked it urgent for your attention.”
Emmy takes the letter with growing dread because she’s never met the Duke’s sister, has heard almost nothing about her except that she lives in London and apparently maintains enough contact with her brother to write letters, and urgent correspondence from unknown sisters-in-law doesn’t usually contain cheerful news.
She breaks the seal and reads, and with each line her anxiety transforms into full alarm:
*Your Grace,*
*I’m writing because someone must warn you about the scandal currently brewing in London society regarding your marriage to my brother. Lady Cordelia Vane has been spreading vicious rumors questioning the validity of your union—claiming the marriage wasn’t consummated, suggesting there were no proper witnesses to bedding, insinuating the entire arrangement is a sham designed to spite her after she rejected Sebastian.*
*The gossip has reached a fever pitch. People are openly speculating about whether the marriage can be annulled, whether Sebastian is incapable of fulfilling marital duties, whether you married him under false pretenses for financial gain. It’s becoming damaging enough that you may need to come to London to present a united front and counter these lies before they destroy both your reputations.*
*I apologize for being the bearer of such unpleasant news, but I thought you should know what you’re facing. Cordelia is a viper, and she’s clearly not finished trying to destroy my brother just because she destroyed him once already.*
*Please give Sebastian my regards and tell him to write me immediately. We need to discuss strategy before this gets worse.*
*Yours in concern,
Lady Margaret Hartley*
Emmy reads the letter twice, her hands trembling with fury at Lady Cordelia’s machinations and fear about what this scandal could mean for her already fragile marriage, and she’s contemplating whether to take the letter directly to the Duke or wait until their scheduled dinner tomorrow when the man himself appears in the library doorway looking agitated.
“I received a letter from Margaret,” the Duke says without preamble, and he’s holding a paper that’s probably identical to the one Emmy just read. “I assume you did as well?”
“Yes,” Emmy confirms, standing because having this conversation while sitting feels wrong when the Duke is clearly distressed. “Lady Cordelia is spreading rumors. Questioning our marriage validity.”
“She’s doing more than questioning,” the Duke says, his voice tight with barely controlled fury. “She’s openly claiming our marriage is a sham. That it wasn’t consummated, that there were no witnesses to bedding, that I married you to spite her instead of out of any actual need for a wife. The scandal is apparently significant enough that Margaret thinks we need to address it publicly.”
Emmy’s face flushes with embarrassment because discussing the intimate details—or lack thereof—of their marriage with her husband is mortifying even when it’s necessary.
“The rumors are true though,” Emmy points out quietly. “At least partially. The marriage wasn’t consummated. There were no witnesses to bedding because there was no bedding. Anyone investigating could easily prove that we don’t share chambers, that the connecting door between our rooms has been locked since before I arrived. Cordelia isn’t lying about those details.”
“The marriage is still legal,” the Duke argues, but he sounds uncertain. “Special license, proper ceremony, signed certificates. Consummation isn’t technically required for validity.”
“But it makes annulment significantly easier,” Emmy observes, because she’s read enough about marriage law to understand the basics. “If she can prove we haven’t consummated the marriage and convince people it was entered under false pretenses, she could potentially petition for annulment on our behalf whether we want it or not.”
The Duke’s jaw clenches with visible anger, and Emmy watches him pace to the window with the restless energy of someone who desperately wants to destroy something but has no appropriate target for that violence.
“This is exactly what she wants,” the Duke says bitterly. “She wants to force an annulment so I’ll be free to remarry. Free to marry her, presumably, now that she’s a wealthy widow who’s decided she regrets rejecting me.”
“You wouldn’t marry her,” Emmy says with more confidence than she feels. “Even if our marriage was annulled. Surely you wouldn’t take back the woman who publicly humiliated you.”
The Duke turns from the window to look at Emmy with an expression that’s more raw than she’s seen before.
“I wouldn’t,” the Duke confirms. “I have no interest in Cordelia beyond wanting her to leave me alone. But she’s not doing this because she thinks I’ll take her back willingly. She’s doing this because she’s vindictive and cruel and destroying things brings her joy. She destroyed me once when I came home from war. Now she’s trying to destroy my marriage because she can.”
Emmy understands suddenly that Lady Cordelia isn’t trying to win the Duke back—she’s just trying to ruin Emmy’s marriage for the sheer pleasure of causing damage, trying to prove she still has power over the Duke even years after their broken engagement.
“So what do we do?” Emmy asks. “How do we counter rumors that are at least partially based in truth?”
The Duke is quiet for a long moment, clearly wrestling with options he doesn’t like, and when he finally speaks his voice is heavy with resignation.
“We may need to go to London,” the Duke says, and Emmy can hear how much he hates this idea in every word. “Present a united front. Attend social functions together. Show society that our marriage is real and solid and not the sham Cordelia claims it is.”
“But it is a sham,” Emmy argues gently. “At least in the ways that matter to society. We don’t share chambers. We barely speak beyond polite formalities. We haven’t—” She stops, unable to say consummated out loud even though they’re both thinking it.
“We haven’t consummated our marriage,” the Duke finishes for her, and his discomfort is visible. “Which is… that’s my fault. My inability to move past Caroline’s death. My fear of repeating the same tragedy. But that doesn’t make our marriage invalid. It just makes it incomplete.”
“Cordelia won’t see the distinction,” Emmy points out. “She’ll use the lack of consummation to argue the marriage should be annulled. And honestly, Sebastian, she might have a case. If you never intended to actually be a husband to me—if this was always meant to be purely a legal arrangement without any of the actual partnership or intimacy that marriage normally includes—then maybe annulment is the honest answer.”
The Duke stares at her like she’s suggested something incomprehensible, and Emmy watches multiple emotions flash across his usually controlled expression—surprise, anger, hurt, something that might be fear.
“You want an annulment?” the Duke asks, his voice dangerously quiet. “You want out of this marriage?”
“I didn’t say that,” Emmy clarifies quickly. “I said maybe annulment is the honest answer if you never intended this to be a real marriage. But what I want is separate from what’s practical or honest. What I want is for this arrangement to become an actual partnership instead of just a legal contract. What I want is for you to at least try to be present in our marriage. What I want is for Lady Cordelia to stop interfering in my life. But wanting things doesn’t make them happen.”
The Duke crosses the room with surprising speed and stops directly in front of Emmy—close enough that she can see the intensity in his ice-blue eyes, close enough that she has to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact, close enough that Emmy’s breath catches at his unexpected proximity.
“I don’t want an annulment,” the Duke says firmly. “I want this marriage to continue. I want—” He stops, clearly struggling with what to say next.
“What?” Emmy prompts. “What do you want, Sebastian?”
“I want time,” the Duke admits. “I want the chance to figure out how to be a husband to you without destroying both of us in the process. I want Cordelia to stop interfering with something that’s none of her concern. And I want to go to London and prove to society that our marriage is real even if it doesn’t look like what they expect.”
“How do we prove that?” Emmy asks practically. “How do we convince London society that a marriage is real when we don’t share chambers and everyone knows it?”
“We go to London,” the Duke says, stepping back to put distance between them again. “We present a united front. I’ll provide you with appropriate wardrobe—you’ll need London clothing, nothing from the modiste here will be suitable for town. We’ll attend functions together, I’ll be attentive in public, and we’ll show society that whatever happens in private, publicly we’re a solid partnership.”
“Performing a marriage for the benefit of gossips,” Emmy observes. “How romantic.”
“This was never about romance,” the Duke reminds her. “But it is about protecting what’s ours. This marriage is legal and binding, and I refuse to let Cordelia destroy it just because she’s bored and vindictive.”
Emmy should probably argue, should probably point out that performing unity while maintaining complete emotional distance in private is exhausting and potentially futile—but part of her desperately wants to go to London, wants to see the Duke be publicly attentive even if it’s just an act, wants the chance to prove to Lady Cordelia and everyone else that Emmy belongs in her marriage even if the Duke can’t bring himself to truly want her there.
“Fine,” Emmy agrees. “We’ll go to London. We’ll perform being happily married. We’ll convince society that our marriage is solid. And then what? After we’ve satisfied the gossips and silenced Cordelia’s rumors, what happens to us?”
The Duke looks at her with an expression Emmy can’t read, and she sees something complicated flash through his eyes before the familiar emptiness returns.
“I don’t know,” the Duke admits. “But at least we’ll still be married. At least we’ll have the chance to figure it out instead of having the decision made for us by people who have no right to interfere.”
“That’s something,” Emmy concedes. “Not much, but something.”
“I’ll write to Margaret,” the Duke says, already moving toward the door. “Tell her we’re coming to London. I’ll arrange for a modiste to visit—you’ll need full wardrobe for the season. Evening gowns, day dresses, riding habits, everything appropriate for a Duchess. I won’t have you looking inadequate compared to Cordelia or anyone else.”
“How thoughtful,” Emmy says with only slight sarcasm. “Making sure your wife doesn’t embarrass you in public.”
The Duke pauses in the doorway and looks back at Emmy with surprising intensity.
“Making sure my wife has the armor she needs to face people who will try to destroy her,” the Duke corrects. “Appropriate clothing isn’t about preventing embarrassment. It’s about ensuring you have every advantage when dealing with vipers who will use any perceived weakness against you.”
He leaves before Emmy can respond, and she’s left alone in the library holding Lady Margaret’s warning letter while trying to process that she’s apparently going to London to perform being happily married to a man who can barely tolerate dining with her twice a week.
It’s absurd.
It’s potentially disastrous.
And Emmy has absolutely no idea how they’re supposed to convince London society that their marriage is solid when she and the Duke can’t even convince themselves.
But at least he said he doesn’t want an annulment.
At least he acknowledged wanting time to figure out how to be a husband.
At least he’s willing to fight for their marriage even if he doesn’t know how to actually be present in it.
That’s more than Emmy expected from her cold distant duke.
And maybe—just maybe—being forced into close proximity in London will push them toward actual connection instead of just carefully maintained distance.
Or maybe it will just expose how fundamentally broken their marriage is and make everything worse.
Emmy supposes she’ll find out soon enough.
One way or another, London will force the truth about their marriage into the light.
And then they’ll have to deal with whatever that truth reveals.
For better or worse.
In sickness or health.
Till death or annulment do them part.
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