Page 10 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke (Marriage by Midnight #2)

CHAPTER TEN

“ W elcome, Your Grace!” Duncan Montrose greeted in a booming voice.

He rose from his armchair. Sir Silas Sutherland also rose, though waiting a beat longer. Damien kept his face schooled to stillness, perceiving insult, and not understanding its motivation.

Who is he to offer insult to me? What does he know or think he knows that he is so confident?

A knight with some unknown connection to the Montrose family, though one that seemingly entitled him to behave as though he , not Duncan, were lord of this manor.

“Eastwick,” Damien greeted warmly, holding out a hand to Duncan, “Sir Silas,” he turned to the other man who bowed his head as though addressing an equal.

Damien responded by not offering his hand but, instead, inclining his head to accept the salute given.

Duncan indicated a third chair in a prime location facing the fire. “I must apologize that my business coincided with your arrival, Your Grace. I trust that Emma and Josie entertained you?” He resumed his seat but not before Sutherland.

“Not a bit of it, Eastwick. They gave me a tour of Nettleden. Charming town.”

“You were not familiar with the district already?” Sutherland asked.

“I was not. I had traveled extensively before inheriting Redmane, everywhere but my home county, ostensibly. I look forward to rediscovering it.”

“There is much to discover,” Sutherland said with a thin-lipped smile and a glance at Duncan. Damien followed the glance and wondered at the discomfited expression that flashed across Duncan's face.

“Indeed there is. Hertfordshire is surely one of England's finest counties,” Duncan enthused, “nestled amid the Chilterns as we are, but with Aylesbury, Wendover, and Tring so close. Not to mention London itself.”

“Yet, curiously, it is not the native home of the Montrose family, is it?” Sutherland inquired, though it sounded more like a statement of fact to Damien.

Duncan cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.

“It is not. Well pointed out, Sir Silas. No, we are a family with our roots to the West of here, Buckinghamshire , to be precise.”

“And what brought you to Hertfordshire?” Sir Silas continued, a smirk plastered across his face. “The purchase of property, no doubt?”

Damien was beginning to dislike Sir Silas. His attitude was at odds with his social rank, particularly in comparison to Duncan Montrose, an Earl, and Damien himself.

“Let us not talk of business. We shall be here all evening while the women wait to dine,” Damien interrupted.

“Of course! My late wife always said whenever men convene, the talk is only ever about business or sport. And carries on for hours whichever topic is preferred,” Duncan replied.

Sir Silas looked to Damien, his sly smile slipping away. Damien grinned insolently. He resolved to ask Emma about the knight.

That brought his thoughts to the intense experience they had shared just a few hours earlier. The memory brought color to his cheeks and made his pulse race. He was no stranger to women but had never indulged in such scandalous behavior in public, where anyone could walk by and discover them.

He cleared his throat, draining the glass that had been poured for him by Duncan. “An excellent brandy, Eastwick,” he murmured beneath the crystal to conceal the unbecoming flush.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I try to keep a healthy cellar.”

“As do I,” Sir Silas said quietly, “this brandy tastes like a cask in my cellar, in fact. Remarkable similarity.”

The comments sounded like a jibe, but Damien could not see an obvious target. He narrowed his eyes, resting his chin on his fist, watching Sir Silas.

“You must tell me where you came by it,” Sir Silas added.

“A wine merchant in London, I believe,” Duncan chuckled nervously, “I will find the name for you. I have the invoice somewhere.”

Damien felt the need to change the subject and relieve Duncan's discomfort. It was not in Damien's interests—it would serve him far better for Duncan to view him as an ally. But despite his ulterior motives, he sensed that Duncan Montrose was a decent chap while Silas Sutherland was not.

“Ah. We met Sir Thomas Donovan in Nettleden,” Damien began, allowing Duncan to pour him another brandy.

“Indeed?” Duncan replied.

“I am acquainted with the family,” Damien lied smoothly, “very respectable, and an excellent young man he is.”

“My youngest daughter Josie is fond of them. I have tried to discourage the association,” Duncan remarked.

“Whatever for? Most appropriate, I should think,” Damien added.

“They hold no rank other than a courtesy title given by the Regent. His family are of the common stock, if moderately wealthy,” Duncan replied.

Damien dismissed the objection with a wave of his hand. “It does a noble house no end of good to receive an influx of new blood. That is how all the crowned heads of Europe have operated for centuries. Mark my words, Sir Thomas would be a fine catch for any lady, if you'll pardon my use of the vernacular.”

Duncan pursed his lips in thought. “Do you think so, Your Grace? Fascinating notion. I had hoped that all three of my daughters would marry above their station.”

“Rank is one thing. Character is far more significant. In my eyes, at least. But that is just my humble opinion. You know your mind, Eastwick,” Damien said amiably.

“You are privy to information that I am not,” Sir Silas cut in. “The Donovan’s owe their wealth to trade, and I have not as high opinion of their eldest son as you.”

“Perhaps it would be advisable to hold on to uninformed opinions then, Sir Silas?” Damien said with a bite.

At that moment, the door to Duncan's study was opened, and a servant announced the readiness of dinner. The three men rose and followed the servant to the dining room. There, they found Emma, Rosie, and Josie seated around the dining table. They rose as the men entered. Damien was ushered to a seat beside Emma, who sat beside her father. To Damien's surprise, Sir Silas sat at the head of the table, directly opposite Duncan.

“An unusual position for a guest,” Damien commented off-handedly.

He observed the ripple of concern that ran through the Montrose family.

“Charles shall not be joining us,” Duncan declared. “My apologies, it must have eluded my mind earlier. My eldest is unwell.”

Sir Silas smirked, and Damien gritted his teeth behind a smile.

“Sir Silas is a close friend of the family?” he murmured, low enough that only Emma could hear.

She glanced at him and gave the tiniest shake of her head.

“Ah, His Grace has been singing the praises of Sir Thomas Donovan, Josie. He said that the gentleman met the three of you in Nettleden. You did not mention that, Emma.”

“Oh yes, I forgot the encounter entirely,” Emma replied, abashed, “we met him at the church, and he walked with us for a while.”

“He will be thrilled to know that you think well of him, Your Grace,” Josie said, flushing.

“I do,” Damien nodded, “and have said so.”

He glanced at Emma, who smiled and blushed, hiding it behind a sip from her wine glass. Damien found his eyes drawn to her, fighting to keep his attention on the other guests and his host. Her auburn hair lay in ringlets around the pale skin of her shoulders. Earrings of glittering jade contrasted with her pale, hazel eyes. She was beautiful in a way that entranced Damien utterly.

I could stare at her for hours.

With a mental shake, he tore his eyes away just as she glanced at him, and their eyes met for a brief moment.

This must be a marriage of convenience and nothing more. We have already strayed too close to it becoming something else entirely.

“I hear that you have suffered some reversals of fortune recently, Your Grace,” Silas Sutherland said as the soup course was served.

“I have?” Damien replied, sipping his soup.

“A fire at a pier in London which consumed a Fitzgerald warehouse. And another at a cotton mill in Manchester.”

Damien almost choked, then quickly recovered himself, dabbing at his chin with a napkin. “You are well informed of events happening so far away,” he murmured as coolly as he muster.

“I have my investments, which are meager compared to the wealth your family has accrued, but I keep track of events pertaining to those investments,” Sutherland said with the smoothness of a crawling snake.

“You have invested in my family?”

“Some small stake in cotton and textiles. After the war particularly, it seemed an industry due for an increase in value, and Fitzgerald is a mark of money.”

Damien nodded then. “I have indeed had my share of bad luck. Two fires in as many months must be counted as ill fortune, and yet cotton is an extremely flammable material, as is cloth, so perhaps we should not be so surprised. I hope my reversal of fortune does not inconvenience you as an investor.”

“What losses I have suffered have been passed on to my tenants, I assure you,” Sutherland chuckled.

His eyes slid over the Montrose family, briefly resting on Duncan. Damien noticed that before he looked back to his soup, Sutherland's oily gaze had swept across Josie, sweeping and lingering.

“How unfortunate for your tenants. It hardly seems fair that they should suffer for your bad decisions,” Emma said, pushing her half-finished plate aside.

“Alas, that is the way of the world. They would not be my tenants had they worked as hard or displayed as much aptitude as I did. I was not born with wealth. I earned my title through hard work, sufficient to catch the eye of the Regent,” Sutherland declared.

“Had you been born a nobleman, you might have learned of the duty a gentleman has to those who rely on his wealth,” Damien murmured, placing down his bowl.

“Alas, I was not,” Sutherland said with a thin smile.

Damien could almost feel Emma's ire. Her hands clasped in her lap, she wrung her napkin as though she imagined it to be someone's throat. A glance at Duncan showed him more fury, but kept under tight control. Josie and Rosie looked uncomfortable and confused.

Is this the power he holds over them? Are they tenants on land owned by this odious reptile?

Damien resolved to steer the conversation away from topics that Sutherland could use as a club over the heads of the Montrose’s. The dinner passed in inconsequential talk, which Damien attempted to keep light and breezy, wanting to dispel the atmosphere of anger and shame. By the end of it, he loathed Sir Silas Sutherland even more somehow. As the men rose to take their leave of the women, Damien spoke to Duncan.

“Eastwick, I wonder if I might prevail upon you for a moment of your time in private. A sensitive matter I must discuss.”

“Of course, Your Grace. Sir Silas, perhaps this would be an opportune moment for us to say goodnight,” Duncan spoke.

“Not a bit of it, old man. I am enjoying myself immensely. I will stay the night if that is acceptable to you, which of course it will be, impeccable host that you are.”

Duncan smiled thinly, a smile forced and pained.

“But of course, Sir Silas, of course. Make yourself at home.”

“Oh, but I already am. I always feel at home here at Sedgewick... apologies, I mean Montrose Hall ,” Sutherland said slickly.

Damien felt the urge to throttle him and clasped his hands behind his back to avoid doing just that.

“Yes... well... Your Grace, if you would follow me,” Duncan chuckled awkwardly.

He led Damien back to the study, where the men convened for brandy before dinner.

“I noted your son's absence this evening. I hope for his health, it is nothing serious,” Damien said by way of polite conversation.

“Yes, unwell, but nothing serious,” Duncan echoed, “he rests in London.”

They entered the study, with Damien wondering what manner of illness could be helped by staying in the bustle of the metropolis. As Duncan turned to face him, he put the thought from his mind.

“My Lord Eastwick, I do not know how much your daughter has shared with you, but since meeting her at Redmane, I have resolved to marry her. I apologize for the bluntness of my declaration but there it is. I would request your blessing and consent, as custom dictates I should.”

“And does my daughter wish to marry you?” Duncan asked.

Damien did not smile and did not look away from Duncan.

“I would say not,” Damien said bluntly, “but that is neither here nor there. She will be a duchess, entitled to a share of my wealth and given unrestricted access to those of my association, including those at Court.”

“But do you love her? Or she you?” Duncan pressed.

Damien narrowed his eyes. “I shall be candid with you, Eastwick, no, I do not. Nor do I intend to fall in love. I do not seek it; it is simply marriage to a respectable woman from a respectable family. Yours is an ancient lineage, but something tells me it is somewhat reduced in circumstances.”

Duncan puffed himself up. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace. Nothing could be further from the truth. I hope you can see as much from this evening.”

“If I am in error, then I apologize,” Damien waved a cursory hand, “but an association with the Duke of Redmane can hardly harm your family or your social standing. If, for example, you wished to purchase property in addition to this, that would be a simple prospect.”

He did not want to anger Duncan or back him into a corner where he would refuse to give his consent out of sheer embarrassment, simply to save face. So, he circled the truth that both men knew: that the Montrose family lived in some kind of debt to Silas Sutherland.

“I will not deny that my family would benefit greatly from your union. I have long wished for and, though it pains me to admit, given up on the idea of Emma finding a husband. She refuses to entertain the idea. It has been thus for the past three years since she returned from a sabbatical on the coast.” Duncan sighed, then looked away. “I would dearly love to know whom she spoke to or what happened during those three months that led to her taking this stance.”

Damien frowned. “A sabbatical ? What was her reason for such a thing?”

Duncan spread his hands. “I do not know, and neither do her siblings. She confided in no one. She was... it is difficult to put into words, but before she left, she was not herself, as though something had happened.

“If I did not know better, I would say that her heart had been broken. Whatever the reason, when she returned, she was as she is now, dead set against marriage or any association with men.”