Page 7 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke

“Damien Fitzgerald, thirteenth Duke of Redmane, at your service, Lady Emma. I do hope you locate your brother and return to the Great Hall before the dances commence.”

Emma’s face paled. Suddenly, everything became crystal clear. Where she had seen that face before.The painting!

And then the rest of his words sank in, drawing her back to the moment with the subtle shock of cold water.

“Why is that?” was all she could whisper.

“Because I believe I am owed your first evening dance.”

CHAPTER THREE

Emma watched the Duke depart, as though he had taken the ground from beneath her feet with him.

I wanted to be ignored, and now I will share the first dance with the Duke himself,she thought ruefully.Why single me out? Heavens, was it because of that silly rumor?

It did not make sense to her. If the Duke had heard the rumors and wished to quash them, then surely distance would be the wiser course. Polite disregard.Chilly civility. Not... not a waltz.

To dance with her—publicly, no less—was to stoke the fire until it roared.

One part of her, the irrational part, longed to storm after him and demand an explanation. Another part quailed at the very notion. And a third, more shamefully persistent part, simply wished to be near him again.Foolish girl. She would be, regardless.

“Oh, what a tangled web… I will not be rendered a mindless fool by a handsome physique!” she snapped at herself.

The reason for her roaming Redmane Manor came back to her then.

Charles…

She looked out over the torchlit lawn. There was no sign of him.

Then, a sound reached her, almost like a muffled cry of surprise. Emma stepped out the door, across the paving, and onto the lawn. The sound of low voices came, and she changed direction and headed towards them. A hedge bordered the lawn with arches cut into it. She caught a hint of shadowed movement beside one of those arches.

Then Charles appeared. His hair was ruffled, and he was glancing over his shoulder.

“Charles, whatever are you doing out here?” Emma chided.

Her brother jumped, whirling around.

“Emma? Good heavens, do not startle me like that—you have taken years off my life!”

Just then, two shadowed figures stepped through one of the arches. Charles spun again, backing away from them slowly.

“Charlie, we still have matters to discuss,” said the first.

“Importantmatters,” echoed the second.

Their voices sounded similar, and as they stepped into the torchlight, Emma realized that they looked similar too—eerilysimilar, in fact.

“Isaac, Jacob…” Charles grimaced, “I believe our discussion has concluded. I have made my position perfectly clear.”

IsaacandJacobhad short, curling hair, the same color as the Duke. They had aspects of his hard, angular face too, but softened around the edges. Emma wondered if these men were related to him. They were rounder facially, but there was indeed a resemblance.

“You have,” said one of the men, his words laced with careful civility, “and yet, we find ourselves in rather vehement disagreement.”

“Quite so,” the other chimed in. “And we feel this matter deserves further exploration. Inprivate.”

Charles stiffened but remained silent.

“We daresay it is in your best interests, old boy,” coaxed the first.