Page 46 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke

“Here,” he said, with a vague sweep of his hand, “in London, I mean. I had some... business to transact.”

“And that precluded you from writing? I have been worried about you, though no one else seemed to notice!” Emma chided.

“You needn't have been, old girl,” Charles replied with the grin of a rogue. But it was a pale shadow of what it had once been.

Emma stepped closer, frowning. “Whatever is going on with you, brother?”

“Not the sort of thing to discuss here, Emma. With all these people,” Charles said, glancing around.

“Then let’s find a quieter path,” Emma said briskly. “And you can tell me exactly what sort of scrape you’ve landed in this time.”

Charles looked down and she regretted her acerbic tone. Their father had always been hardest on Charles of all the children and Emma did not enjoy piling her own scorn atop his.

“I'm sorry. That was my concern talking,” Emma sighed, taking her brother's elbow.

He smiled weakly and patted her hand.

“I quite understand. Come, I'll buy you a syllabub.”

He offered his arm properly and Emma took it gracefully this time, glancing around as she did for any sign of their father, Damien, or the girls. Charles did not miss it.

“Something wrong yourself, old girl?” he asked, “are you on the run, perhaps?”

“Do stop with the cant, brother,” Emma half-heartedly chided, “but sort of. I do not wish to come across Papa, or... anyone else we know just at the moment.”

“I know that feeling well, though I am usually seeking to avoid my creditors. Not that I have any of those any longer. Not since you helped me the last time,” he said, adding the last part somewhat hastily.

Emma looked at him with shrewd eyes.

“You did not come to London to hide then?” she asked.

“Of course not,” Charles replied, “merely to meet with old friends and to carry out some business affairs.”

“Such as?” Emma probed.

Charles cleared his throat. “Well, it’s very early days but some promising investment opportunities I must say. But, let’s not talk about me, not when another member of the Montrose household has news of so much greater import.”

He looked at her deliberately and Emma rolled her eyes.

“You have heard,” she said flatly.

“I have indeed. There is a great deal of gossip concerning the Duke of Redmane's choice of bride and the haste with which the nuptials are planned. Everyone is talking about it. Be thankful that your face is not well known in Court circles because your name certainly is. I take it that is why you and father are here?”

The pair walked in a small oasis of space along an otherwise crowded footpath. They kept their voices low enough to be heard by each other only. Emma suddenly wondered how many of those walking nearby might recognize her. Might be whispering about her. It gave her an urge to be away from this place, somewhere spacious where there was no one else.

“Yes. The Duke has arranged for us to see a modiste for dresses to be made,” Emma said.

“The girls must be having the time of their lives,” Charles chortled.

“They are,” Emma replied.

“But not you?”

“Certainly not. No matter what the gossips say, brother, this wedding is not to last. It is a matter of convenience,” Emma pressed the point.

Charles seemed to consider this, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Isee. I wonder why the Duke would do such a thing?”