Page 42 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke

Isaac was not so stoic.

With a wordless cry, he darted forward and snatched theLuciferfrom Damien's fingers, then dropped it to the floor where he stamped the fire out of existence. When only smoke remained, he looked at Damien, his perfectly coiffured hair awry and his eyes wide.

“Are you mad?” he demanded. “These are not the playthings of children!”

“Are they not? I find them fascinating,” Damien murmured, “such a marvelous invention. Do you not think? Once, a man had to carry flint and tinder to make fire. Now, he carries it in a handy pocket-size box.”

“Does the ability to make fire need to be so convenient?” Jacob scoffed. “Anyone would think that you have an unhealthy obsession with it.”

“I was almost killed in a fire that consumed my home, my family, and my uncle,” Damien stated flatly. “Such events can make a man terrified. Or obsessed. Are you not?”

“No,” Isaac replied matter-of-factly, “we are not. But our property is being burned, money is going up in smoke.”

“Accidentally,” Damien put in. “I have had investigations carried out privately. There is no indication of arson.”

Isaac and Jacob looked at each other again. They had both been discomfited by Damien's game with theLucifer. Now they visibly fought to regain their equilibrium.

“The Regent has expressed concerns about the reputation of an important English Dukedom being left in the hands of a rogue. He has the power to remove the Dukedom from your hands,” Isaac said, leaning over the desk, hands planted on it.

“I look forward to reassuring the Regent. Perhaps at the wedding breakfast after my marriage to Lady Emma Montrose, eldestdaughter of the Earl of Eastwick,” Damien uttered with a smile. “I understand that the Regent loves a celebration?”

Both twins looked stunned. Isaac licked his lips, glancing at his brother.

“Montrose?” Jacob asked. “Did you sayMontrose?”

“That I did.”

Isaac suddenly grinned broadly. He straightened and walked to the mirror which hung over the mantle. He preened in the mirror for a moment. Jacob was chuckling. Damien kept his face impassive. He did not like their reaction.

“Very well. I hope that we are invited?” Isaac replied.

“A splendid family.Splendid. Very... reputable,” Jacob added, apparently trying to conceal laughter.

“Andreliable,” Isaac put in.

“We will not trouble you with talk of business when you must have so much to prepare. We will talk after the wedding. Good day to you,” Isaac said with a bow from the waist which his brother echoed.

They left the room.

Damien sat staring at the closed door for a long time, wondering what the two scheming brothers were so thrilled about.

Whatever it was, it could not bode well for him.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“But whyever not, Emma?” Josie asked.

She was dressing while Emma sat in a window seat, watching London pass by. She had never visited the capital before and its sheer scale was almost overwhelming. And yet, she yearned to walk its streets, become lost in its crowds.

Be anywhere but in this room.

“I do not care for expensive dresses,” Emma sighed.

“But the Duke is paying for them. It is his gift. Besides, you can hardly be a bride in those silly ancient dresses that you have in your wardrobe. This is London after all.”

Emma shifted uncomfortably. She had watched Rosie and then Josie being measured for their bridesmaids' dresses as well as for other garments which the modiste had been commissioned to produce at the behest of the Duke. Watched them strip downto their undergarments to be measured in every conceivable dimension. And knew that she could not bring herself to be so exposed before a stranger.

Not just one stranger either. The modiste was accompanied by half a dozen assistants who wrote down numbers dictated by the modiste, assisted with dressing and undressing, or held up lengths of tape to the girls being measured. Emma smiled past the feeling of sickness that washed over her, a feeling born of fear.