Page 16 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke (Marriage by Midnight #2)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
E mma lifted her skirts and hurried into the cover of a copse of old oak trees. She ducked behind one gnarled and knotted trunk, looking back towards Hyde Park Corner and its grand entrance.
It was there, as she had walked along the Royal Road having completed a circuit of Hyde Park, that she had glimpsed her father. The crowds made it difficult to see but she had recognized his gait and had been close enough to see the determined set of his face. Emma had decided that discretion was the better part of valor and to keep herself out of her father's eye for the moment. She had retreated to the copse before he'd had an opportunity to pick her out of the crowd.
The question is, are you here looking for me or just for a stroll about the park? she thought inwardly as she watched him stride past the very spot in which she had stood when she saw him.
Her answer came soon enough. Duncan was looking from side to side, clearly searching. Emma retreated further into the shadows cast by the trees. She bit her lip as she watched him heading towards Kensington Gardens at the far western end of Hyde Park, resolving to take herself in the opposite direction. Perhaps, explore Knightsbridge or the village of Kensington itself.
There are certainly no shortage of places within this bustling metropolis for me to explore. I wish I could be left alone to discover them!
As she neared the Serpentine, Emma cast a glance around, scanning the passersby and picnickers, her eyes skimming each bonnet and cravat for a familiar face. Damien, perhaps. Or Rosie and Josie.
Her father wouldn’t hesitate to enlist their help—especially if the Duke had given orders. And those two would be only too delighted to parade through Hyde Park, cloaked in the noble duty of finding their wayward sister.
But the paths and lawns held no sign of them.
She lingered at the edge of the trees, then cautiously stepped out toward the river.
Across the still waters, she saw the Ring, where horses were paraded as much as raced, and beyond that, the Guard House and the old Cake Shop—shabbier than she expected. That part of the park was thick with people. Just the place to disappear into a crowd… and perhaps keep walking. Right through to the far side and beyond the city’s reach…
She had only just rounded the curve of the river when a voice stopped her cold.
“ Emma ? What in God’s name are you doing here?”
She turned sharply. Charles stood just ahead, looking as though he’d seen a ghost.
Her head jerked back at the sight. “I might ask the same of you, brother! Where have you been?”
He looked... drawn. Pale, with shadows beneath his eyes that hadn't been there the last time she'd seen him.
“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.
“I see . I wonder why the Duke would do such a thing?”
“To restore his name and reputation by marrying into a respectable family,” she told him vaguely.
“Well, keep that part secret, Emma,” he chuckled, tapping his nose, “were it to reach the scandal sheets, it would render the entire enterprise moot. The Regent would not be impressed. I hear that the Regent has a personal stake in the Redmane title. The former Duke was a senior member of the Court and a personal friend of the Prince.”
Emma considered this as a group of ladies and gentlemen, laughing and talking loudly, swept past them toward a cottage that now housed a shop selling cakes.
“It does not matter,” she sighed, “I am going along with it for my own reasons. To help Papa and the girls and free us all from Silas Sutherland.”
Charles nodded soberly. “A Duke's money would certainly come in useful …”
There was something fervent in his voice that made Emma's ears prick up.
“Charles, are you quite certain there is nothing that you need to tell me? If a scandal ensues, it could cause problems for the Duke, and therefore, for all of us.”
Her brother’s brows pinched in thought. He seemed on the verge of speaking, but then another voice rose above the general hubbub.
“ Charles ! What a coincidence, we were just looking for you!” said Isaac Fitzgerald.
Charles paled as though all the blood in his body had just flowed out of a hole in his shoe. He took a backward step as Isaac emerged from an oncoming crowd.
“Isaac, you'll have to excuse me. I have an appointment, rather urgent,” Charles stammered, taking further steps, pulling his arm free of Emma's grip.
“Where are you residing while you're in town?” Jacob asked, materializing behind Charles and causing him to spin around.
“Erm... that is to say... my lodgings are… Finsbury Square.”
“ Truly? I understand you've been seen in Whitechapel a lot recently,” Isaac replied.
“In the gambling dens ,” Jacob narrowed.
Emma felt her heart sink as she watched her brother squirm.
“My brother does not gamble. What business is it you have with him?” she asked, returning to Charles' side and taking his arm.
“Does Charles Montrose gamble? As well ask if the French eat cheese!” Jacob snorted. “Good day to you Lady Emmeline Montrose, congratulations on your impending marriage. I wonder how long it will last?”
“Leave my sister out of this, Jacob,” Charles snapped, trying to put himself between Emma and the other man.
“I shall be speaking to my fiancée about the financial aspects of our marriage,” Emma narrowed her gaze, “rest assured that any business dealings you have with the Montrose family will be discussed too. And addressed .”
She met the eyes of both men, trying to communicate without being specific and hoping they took her meaning.
“We look forward to dealing with a Montrose who honors their obligations,” Isaac muttered.
The two men took their leave and Emma rounded on Charles.
“Gambling, Charles? How much do you owe?”
She could no longer keep the ire from her voice given the lengths she had gone already to help Charles out of self-inflicted situations. But before he could answer, Emma saw Damien over his shoulder. He had not yet seen her but was walking towards her along a path that would take him right past where she and Charles currently stood.
“Charles, I must go. But please visit number three Curzon Street, that is where we are residing. We can finish this discussion later this evening.”
Charles followed her eyes and saw Damien on horseback. He winked at his sister.
“Have no fear, Emma. Head off that way, towards the Deer Pound. I will intercept the Duke and delay him.
Without another word or a backward glance, he set off towards Damien at a brisk trot.
Bless you, dear brother, you do not understand my motives but you see my need. I cannot be cornered by Damien. He will force me to be measured by the modiste and I cannot bear that thought! When will I ever be as I was again?
Emma darted along the path, following the river towards the deer enclosure, the walls of Kensington Gardens rising beyond. She tried to recall the map of the Park that she had looked over earlier in the day and thought that if she kept the Gardens to her left, she would be heading north and thence to Westborn Green.
Surely no one will look for me in open countryside. They will think me far more likely to be in among the sights and sounds of London.
She walked briskly, trying not to draw attention to herself by looking back over her shoulder too often. There was no sign of either Charles or the Duke behind her but she did now slow as she followed the walls of Kensington Gardens, heading towards the Oxford Road that bordered the Park to the north.
Then, as she rounded a bend in the path, she saw Damien riding towards her.