Page 48 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke
Emma darted along the path, following the river towards the deer enclosure, the walls of Kensington Gardens rising beyond. She tried to recall the map of the Park that she had looked over earlier in the day and thought that if she kept the Gardens to her left, she would be heading north and thence to Westborn Green.
Surely no one will look for me in open countryside. They will think me far more likely to be in among the sights and sounds of London.
She walked briskly, trying not to draw attention to herself by looking back over her shoulder too often. There was no sign of either Charles or the Duke behind her but she did now slow as she followed the walls of Kensington Gardens, heading towards the Oxford Road that bordered the Park to the north.
Then, as she rounded a bend in the path, she saw Damien riding towards her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Damien glimpsed Emma's fleeting figure heading towards a stand of trees. A large cluster of young men leading horses crossed his path and he lost sight of her briefly. But she had been heading towards the north side of the park. Of that he was sure.
As the young men passed by, Damien saw a single figure striding towards him with a determined set to his jaw. He frowned, meeting the man's eyes, and experiencing a frisson of recognition. There was no question but the man was intending to speak to him.
“Good day to you, do I have the honor to address the Duke of Redmane?” the man asked.
“You do,” Damien replied with no little impatience.
He wanted to catch up to Emma but felt that he should recognize this man, though he was sure they had never met.
“I am Charles Montrose, Viscount Sherborne.”
“Montrose?” Damien echoed, momentarily startled. “But of course. I do not think we have met.”
“I was not introduced at the Redmane Ball and was...indisposedwhen you visited Montrose Manor for dinner,” Charles continued. “I wanted to take this opportunity as we are to be brothers, I understand?”
“Yes, quite,” Damien muttered restlessly, “but if you will excuse me, I must risk rudeness as I have rather urgent business...”
“Not at all, Your Grace,” Charles interjected, glancing over his shoulder, “I shall not… detain you any further. I have an appointment with my sister, Emma, for which I regret to say I am late.”
“Indeed?” Damien queried, sure he had seen Charles coming from the same direction as Emma only a few moments earlier.
“Indeed. She and I were to take in the British Museum,” Charles replied airily, “she is meeting me there.”
“Say, old boy, I could have sworn I had just seen her…” Damien said slowly, eyes narrowing.
Charles grinned boyishly. “I would think not, Your Grace. She awaits me at the museum as we speak. I shall be in terrible trouble if I am much later!”
“Ididsee her,” Damien said flatly now, tired of the pretense, “so perhaps you can explain to me why she runs from the sight of me while I have you here. And why she runs from the modiste I have employed at great expense and very short notice to measure her for her wedding gown.”
The boyish grin vanished and Charles regarded him soberly. He sighed.
“In truth, Your Grace, I do not know why. My sister has become quite an enigmatic figure, since... well… she has changed.”
Again, he glanced over his shoulder. Damien smiled inwardly, recognizing a brother attempting to protect his younger sister.
“I think the bird has flown thanks to your timely intervention. But Iaminterested in the change in her. What caused it? You began to say but precluded yourself.”
“It is not my place, Your Grace,” Charles said finally.
“It is not? It relates to her sabbatical, from which she returned with a new ladies’ maid, I assume?Elsie. She is equally reticent to share information about why Emma was in her care.”
Now, Charles frowned. “In hercare? Whatever do you mean, Your Grace? I understood that Elsie was employed at the residence in which Emma spent some time and the two got along so well that Emma asked her to join our household. Of course, Emma had to pay her wages from her own allowance, but...”
He suddenly colored, turning bright red and clamping his mouth shut.
“I have said too much, as is my wont. I must ask you, Your Grace, to forget what I have just implied. My father would—”
“I am not concerned at the moment with your father’s reactions,” Damien interjected irritably at the sight of another barricade being put up by a member of the Montrose household. “As I said, I have pressing business which this conversation is keeping me from. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
