Page 6 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke (Marriage by Midnight #2)

CHAPTER SIX

“ H e cannot mean it, surely!” Elsie said as she helped Emma to dress.

“I keep saying the same things to myself, Elsie,” Emma groused, “it has been... what? Three days since the Redmane Ball?”

“ Four ,” Elsie corrected.

“And I have heard not a single word from him! Not a letter or even a note. He casually announces that he will be asking Papa for my hand in marriage, and then... nothing,”

“An angry man is wont to lash out,” Elsie noted sagely, “they are very like children in that regard. Think no more of it. Likely, he has moved on from his anger at the rumors we started.”

“I wish I could be so sanguine,” Emma sighed, “but you were not there, Elsie. He seemed utterly adamant. So stubborn.”

She shivered as she checked her appearance in a full-length dress mirror.

Adequate for the business of the day.

Looking around, she saw that Elsie was watching her curiously.

“So masterful, eh?” The maid began with the beginnings of a wicked smile.

“Whatever do you mean?” Emma asked.

“He is handsome, if your preference is for men carved from stone.”

Emma blushed. “I can assure you that there is nothing of the sort in my mind. I wouldn't say I liked being dictated to. Do not like it.” She shook her head.

But Elsie continued to look at her askance.

Zounds, am I so transparent?

The shiver that had run through her at the thought of Damien's insistent demands had not been one of disgust. It had been a frisson of pleasure.

Fierce. Thrilling. He’d taken control, left her no choices, no weight to carry. And for once, she didn’t have to lead. She didn’t want to. She liked the way he stripped her control, the way he made her surrender. She’d fought it, yes—but God, she’d never wanted anything more.

I cannot admit that to anyone, even to Elsie! I must always be the spearhead my family expects me to be.

“It is quite monstrous, but you are right—he has likely forgotten all about it,” Emma said at last.

There came a knock at the door of her bedchamber. Elsie went to the door and opened it, curtsying as she saw Emma's father.

“Emmeline, I wished to speak with you in private. Would you accompany me?” Duncan asked diffidently.

“Of course, Papa. I was just about to come down for breakfast,” Emma replied.

Duncan turned, and Emma exchanged glances with Elsie as she left the room to follow. Something was afoot. Her father had not and never been diffident. She did not think she would like what he had to say.

Duncan had walked a few paces and now waited for her. She caught up and followed him along the hallway. For a long moment, they walked in silence. Emma glanced at her father in concern. He was staring ahead fixedly, a frown on his face.

“Is something wrong, Papa?” Emma asked.

“I am afraid so, Emma. I have given much thought to the extraordinary demands of that young rogue, Redmane. I have never heard of the like.”

“Nor I. Surely, it was a poor joke. Or just the words of anger in the heat of the moment?”

“I received two letters this morning that make me think otherwise,” Duncan said.

They descended the stairs, passing busy servants. Duncan led the way to the sitting room and then out into the garden. It was walled, the stone bathed in morning sunlight and swathed in climbing roses and clematis. Gravel paths wove through tall hedges, creating intimate spaces, each closed off from the other.

“From the Duke?” Emma asked, her mouth suddenly dry.

“The second of the two was,” Duncan nodded, “it apologized profusely for his abrupt manner at the ball and requested an opportunity to meet with us all at our earliest convenience.”

“And have you replied?” Emma asked, almost breathless in her anticipation.

Do I wish to hear whether Papa has replied positively or negatively to this request? Do I still want the Duke, Damien, to pursue me? Of course not! Do I?

“I have,” Duncan said gravely.

He was silent momentarily as they followed the path through the garden. The only sound was the buzzing of bees and the trill of birdsong.

“And?”

She prayed that his solemness was due to his refusing the invitation and fearing the consequences of that decision. She also prayed that he had accepted and that she would soon be in Damien's company again. She was utterly confused.

“I have accepted. And have deemed it best that the reconvening occur sooner rather than later. He will join us for dinner this evening.”

“Papa!” Emma exclaimed.

Duncan held up a hand. “It means we will not be waiting long for the day of his coming. I know that after his crass behavior, you would be in no hurry to meet with him again, even if you did dance with him at the ball.”

He took her hand, patted it, and walked on.

“I fancy I know my daughter well enough that you would want this dratted business over with as soon as possible. So, I replied that this evening would be most convenient.”

“And do you intend to bless his proposal of marriage?” Emma asked.

Duncan did not answer immediately.

“Such a lovely garden. I should come here before breakfast more often. So very peaceful.”

“Papa…” Emma interrupted. “Do you intend to give your blessing?”

“Would you like me to give it?” he asked, looking at Emma sharply.

Emma opened her mouth to reply and realized that she couldn't.

I must recover my wits. I will not let a man tangle them like a cat playing with wool! I must not. I have too many responsibilities to my family to indulge in romance. Not that the Duke intends romance. He is too cold and too… too brutal!

“Of course not! I am not some cattle to be disposed of at the whim of a man. If Damien believes that courtship consists of his making demands, he will see that he has miscalculated,” she said, tone measured.

“ Damien ?” Duncan arched a suspicious brow. “I see how things are. Tell me, and be truthful. Did you instigate this rumor that I have heard swirling these past months, the gossip that you and he are already courting?”

Emma stared at him. She had not thought that her father would ever ask her that question. Because he was firmly against gossip and did not listen to rumors—that was the preserve of Charles and Rosie. But she could not lie.

“Yes,” she said quietly, suddenly abashed. “I did not want a suitor. To be courted. I thought that if a man as feared as the Duke of Redmane were alleged to be courting me, then none would dare approach.”

“But you did not think that your little rumor would reach his ears or that he would react this way?” Duncan asked.

“No, Papa. I did not,” Emma whispered.

He patted her hand again. “It feels an overreaction on Redmane's part nonetheless. I do not know what he is thinking. But I cannot overlook the offer. I am sorry, Emma, but I never imagined that I would be able to marry you off to a Duke. Nor any of my daughters, for that matter. Yet here is an opportunity that would benefit us greatly. I cannot refuse it.”

“Even if I told you that he has already clarified that it would only be a marriage in name?” Emma asked.

Duncan looked at her quizzically.

“Damien... The Duke has told me that while we would maintain the expected appearance of husband and wife publicly, in private, we would live separate lives. I will be free to come and go with whom I please, provided it does not damage the illusion of marriage,” Emma recalled the words.

Duncan seemed to think for a moment.

“Well, that seems to coincide nicely with your wishes, does it not?”

Emma stepped back from him in shock.

“Whatever would make you say that?” Emma demanded.

“I am not so old that I am blind to your reluctance to marry. I do not know if it is born out of concern for me and your brother and sisters, your feeling of duty towards us... or something else entirely. But a marriage in name only would mean that you are as free as you are now and free of unwanted suitors. You would be more free than you are now, in fact.”

He paused at a stone bench beneath a yew hedge that towered above and cast a deep shade. Sitting, he patted the seat next to him. But Emma remained standing. She folded her arms and stepped away, looking down into the dark waters of a pond on the other side of the path. Her reflection stared back.

“How would I be more free?” she murmured, “I already feel the jaws of the trap closing on me.”

“Do not exaggerate, Emma,” Duncan chided gently, “as a Duchess, you would have wealth, power, and influence. The foundations of true freedom. And that brings me to the first letter I opened this morning, which, unlike yourself, you have not asked me about.”

Emma turned to look at her father, bracing herself. She knew him well enough to recognize the tone of his voice. This would not be good news.

“The first letter was from Silas Sutherland, Mr. Silas Sutherland ,” Duncan said bitterly.

He emphasized Sutherland's title, deliberately omitting Silas Sutherland's title of knight. Emma went to her father, sat down next to him, and took his hand.

That evil man! That assaulter of women! That snake who puts such terror into my heart.

“He regrets to inform us that due to the current economic conditions, he must increase our rent here at what we have called Montrose Hall, which he still refers to as Sedgefield,” Duncan said, mouth twisting as though around an unpleasant taste.

“Papa, many, many people owe their home to another. To be a tenant is the lot of the majority of honorable, decent...” Emma began.

It was an old argument that she knew was futile with her father.

“I will not hear it, Emma!” he snapped. “To be a commoner without rank or title is to be a tenant. And many commoners do not rent. We are beneath those commoners. It rankles that as the head of an old English family, an Earl who can trace his lineage back to the Danes, I cannot keep a roof over my children’s heads. An Englishman's home is his castle. I must pretend that Sutherland's home is my castle. A… man, beneath my rank in both title and character.”

Emma remained silent. She did not share her father's deep-seated shame at the family's straitened circumstances. It was not the result of decadence or gambling, nor the legacy of a degenerate Earl frittering away the family fortune. It was the result of bad fortune. But Duncan took their downturn personally. He took it as a reflection of him, of his own failings.

“The rent he is asking for is already at the limit of our means,” Emma murmured, looking wistfully out at the body of water.

“And the leech seeks to drain more from us,” Duncan grumbled. “Or...”

Emma waited, but her father did not finish his sentence. A chill ran through her. What could be so terrible that her father could not speak of it to her?

“Or the rent will remain the same, and he will accept Josephine's hand in marriage.”

“No!” Emma snapped instinctively.

Duncan sighed. “My reaction too, but what choice do we have?”

He suddenly seemed weary, like a man twice his age, a man weary of fighting. That shocked Emma. Her father was a warrior, indefatigable .

“There is a choice. The only choice. I see that now. I see the connection between the two letters,” Emma finally conceded. “If I marry the Duke of Redmane, then his resources shall be available to us. Josie will be safe.”