Page 110 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
Violet cocked her head. “Vaughan?”
“Oh, the duke.” Emma had forgotten that her sister didn’t know his Christian name. “But I’m not sure I want to see him face-to-face right now.”
“Why not?” Violet asked. “You can’t withhold news like this.”
“I know.” Emma sighed. “But my pride was injured because he felt the need to drink so much brandy in order to face me the other day. Am I really that terrible?”
Violet hid her grin. “Of course not.”
“Perhaps I should write him a letter.”
“No.”
Emma stared at Violet, shocked by her abrupt response. “No?”
“That would be a cowardly approach, and you aren’t a coward. Are you?” Violet arched one of her eyebrows.
“I’m…not?” Emma hadn’t realized Violet considered her plucky.
“You’re not,” Violet confirmed. “You’re the sister who always knew what you wanted and weren’t afraid to let others know. You were courageous enough to marry someone you didn’t care for in order to protect the family. You’re brave, Emma. So be brave now.”
Being brave sounded like a lot of effort.
But she couldn’t deny that it was nice to hear Violet speak about her this way, and she didn’t want to give her sister a reason to change her opinion.
“Perhaps I will visit him soon,” she grumbled.
“That’s the proper attitude,” Violet said. “Besides, you must remember that not everyone is as certain of themselves as you are. I am sure the duke didn’t mean to cause you offense. He may have needed fortification, but I’m certain he meant everything he said.”
“You’re right.” Shame curled through Emma. She’d gotten caught up in her own feelings and hadn’t thought about how difficult it must have been for Vaughan to reach out to her. Perhaps he’d gone about it the wrong way, but he’d still tried.
“I will do it,” Emma said. “Tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 26
London,
January, 1820
Her insides a tangle of nerves,Emma knocked on the door of Vaughan’s London residence. A thin older man opened the door. His eyes widened at the sight of her.
“Your Grace,” he said diffidently.
Emma cocked her head. She didn’t recall having met him before, but in her new role, she supposed she would have to get used to people recognizing her.
“Good afternoon,” she said. “I’m here to see the duke.”
“Please come in.” The man stepped aside and held the door while she entered. “I am Gladwell. Allow me to show you to the drawing room.”
Emma looked around as she followed him. She hadn’t visited Ashford House prior to marrying the duke, so she’d never been inside before. The ceiling towered above them, and sconces lined the hall, although few of them were burning at this time of day.
“Through here,” Gladwell said.
“Thank you.” The drawing room was decorated in masculine shades of green and white and contained two forest green chaises, several other chairs, and a marble fireplace that occupied most of the end wall and threw out a wonderful warmth.
“I will call for tea and inform His Grace of your presence.” Gladwell bowed and backed out of the room.
Emma removed her gloves and went to the fireplace to warm her hands at the hearth. They tingled as the numbness dissipated, but she still looked forward to wrapping them around a hot teacup. Nothing warmed the hands quite like a cup of tea.
