Page 37 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke
Emma moved as though to step closer, her curiosity getting the better of her. Then she stopped.
“You are a peculiar man,Damien Fitzgerald.”
“I could say the same for you,Emmeline Montrose.”
“Oh, I am very peculiar. Though I am no man. You may regret your choice,” Emma said with a laugh that carried no little bitterness.
“I doubt that,” Damien replied softly, his words heartfelt.
“I must go and greet Sir Thomas and his family. I… will see you inside,” Emma finished at last.
She turned and disappeared.
Damien breathed out, a long, slow breath. He felt as though he had fought a duel, as though his body had been tensed for the entirety of the encounter, shoulders rigid. He ran a hand through his hair and stepped out of the well house. Then, he walked in the opposite direction, intending to take the long route back to the house and give himself time to recover his equilibrium.
When he had completed a circuit of the gardens, he felt the first spots of rain on his cheek. The spatter increased rapidly, pattering his head and shoulders. Damien sought the first door he could find that would lead into the house. He found himself in a small anteroom containing a large sink and stacks of brooms and buckets. Beyond was a narrow passage of dark green tiles with the taught ropes of a bell pull system running along the ceiling.
This must be the servant's quarters, he supposed.
As he walked, he became aware of voices further along the passageway. One of them was a woman and though he could not make out the words, her tone was one of fear.
The other voice was male.
Damien hastened his pace, following the voices until he reached a closed door behind which the voices seemed to be originating.
There came a scream and the sound of a slap.
Damien tore open the door. A young woman cowered from Silas Sutherland who stood over her with hand raised. She clutched her cheek and watched Sutherland with wide dark eyes.
Damien seized Sutherland's upraised wrist and spun him around. Then he struck Sutherland a solid blow on the jaw, sending him lurching into the narrow bed that stood against one wall of the small room. He rebounded from the bed to collapse to the floor in a boneless heap.
“Are you hurt?” Damien asked of the dark-haired girl.
The girl drew back in fear. “…No, Your Grace. A tickle to the cheek was all he managed, though he intended more. If… if you hadn't turned up when you had...”
“Where are the rest of the staff?” Damien demanded, “Why did no one come to your aid?”
“They are all occupied, Your Grace. Serving up luncheon. I am not a member of the household. I am ladies’ maid to Lady Emmeline.”
Suddenly, Damien recognized her face. She had—beyond all reason—invited him into Emma’s bedchamber a few evenings ago back at Montrose Hall.
“Well, this ends today. I will deal with this lizard,” Damien snarled, “What is your name?”
“Elsie, Your Grace.”
Damien nodded thoughtfully, staring down at the unmoving form of Sir Silas.
“Well,Elsie. If you could prepare a cup of tea for us both, I shall return in a moment and would very much like to have a conversation with you regarding your mistress.”
Elsie regarded him with large dark eyes for a moment. The look on her face had nothing of deference in it. Damien was reminded of nothing more than a watchful mother protective over her young.
“As you wish, Your Grace. I should tell you now that my loyalty is to my mistress, so I shan't be speaking of anything that shewouldn't want you to know. No disrespect intended of course,” she said, warily.
“And none taken. You are free to refuse to answer anything you wish. As long as you allow me to ask.”
“You can ask,” Elsie replied in a tone that had nothing of the servant in it.
She suddenly kicked Sutherland's unconscious form in the ribs, then swore at him in terms that would have made a sailor blush. Damien grabbed Sutherland under his arms and began to drag him from the room. He hauled him along the corridor and out into the rain where he deposited him in a growing puddle. Sutherland began to stir, then suddenly spluttered, and sat up, wiping hair from his eyes. He squinted up at Damien who stood above him.
