Page 4 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke
“Who, indeed?” Emma mused aloud. “Perhaps the rumor hasn't reached him, and this is all coincidence. I doubt I will even see him when we are there. Doubtless, there will be many guests and many ladies of far greater status and beauty than I.”
CHAPTER TWO
MAY 1813
The Redmane Grand Ball
“It is magnificent, is it not?” Rosie exclaimed in a whisper for Emma’s ears alone.
“Quite,” Emma replied faintly.
“Ah, the spoils of aristocracy!” came the amused boom of Charles as he appeared behind them, striding into the Great Hall with greater confidence.
He swept past them with the air of a man escorting three princesses into court, all charm and practiced poise. Josie, on the other hand, was still attempting to look serene and graceful, despite the nervous way she kept smoothing the skirts of her brand-new gown—pale blue silk that matched Rosie’s to the stitch. The poor girl looked less like a swan gliding into society and more like a lamb on the verge of bolting.
Charles offered Rosie his arm with a showman’s flourish. Emma took Josie’s, squeezing it gently.
“You look perfectly radiant, Josie. I daresay, you shall be the belle of the ball. And if Sir Thomas has any eyes at all, he’ll see it too.”
Josie startled, her brows lifting, and then her cheeks lit with color—rising from throat to temple. Her lips curved in a guilty smile.
“I did not think you knew,” she said quietly.
“My darling Josie, I have noticed how you studiously avoid mentioning his name while finding reasons to talk about his family. And how any conversation that touches on the Donovan’s seems to leave you feeling…oh my…the heat.”
Emma fanned herself. Josie giggled.
“Sister, you are terrible! Does Papa know, do you think? He would disapprove of a husband without a title.”
“Papa is blissfully unawares. Charles and Rosie see everything of thetonbut nothing of the family. Your secret is safe with me. Don’t worry, I shall help you find a way to win Papa over.”
Josie bounced on her toes gleefully. “I have corresponded with him, and he has also been invited! I have promised him the first dance tonight…”
“And the second, third, fourth, and fifth?” Emma teased.
“I shall take as many as I dare! But enough about me,” she said, elbowing Emma gently. “What of you? Is there a handsome beau that you have your eye on?”
Emma’s gaze swept across the splendidly dressed ladies and gentlemen that thronged the Great Hall. She sobered, taking in their glittering decorations and ostentatious displays of wealth. Could there be any from that crowd that she could someday consider a husband?
She doubted it.
The thought of a husband—of love—was one she had long buried beneath the weight of memory. The scar she bore, hidden from the world and most especially from herself, was a cruel reminder of the price of a gentleman’s unchecked desire. It made warmth difficult. Made trust a fragile, vanishing thing.
“Truthfully?” she said at last. “No. I do not care for all this gold and glitter. It is... froth without substance.”
“You sound as though you seek to marry a farmer!” Josie snorted before catching herself and flushing.
Emma giggled at her sister’s blunder. “Mayhaps that would suit me best. A practical man who is wed to his land.”
Her sheepish sister grinned. “If Papa objects to a knight of the realm, then he would have apoplexy at the thought of a son-in-law wedded to his fields.”
“Precisely. Therefore, I shall be content to remain unattached and help Papa run the estates and wrangle you three miscreants.”
Ahead, she could see their father conversing with a man his age in a militia officer's uniform. Two young men stood beside the older, bearing similar looks and both in red and white tailcoats. Duncan looked around; his eyes alighted on Rosie and Charles, then Emma and Josie.
He beckoned all four. Emma swallowed.
“Josie dear, I believe Papa wishes to parade us before his friends and their eligible sons. I have no desire to make small talk just now, do you?”
