Page 17 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke
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’twant to. She liked the way he stripped her control, the way he made her surrender. She’d fought it, yes—butGod,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.”
