Page 50 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke
Damien found himself keen to know. He told himself that Emma's character did not matter, nor did her wishes or desires. All that mattered was the wedding and the appearance of marital bliss, to stave off his cousins—to put into motion his artfully crafted plan. But he wanted to understand her more, he realized.
“I simply wish to make a difference in this world,” Emma breathed at last. “I do not yet know how, but I do not want to be a lady of accomplishment when those accomplishments consist of singing, playing pianoforte, or needlepoint. I want to have the same impact that you take for granted.”
“Admirable,” Damien inclined his head.
They were closer still and Damien had ceased to be aware of anyone else in the park. They stood alone for miles around as far as his heart was concerned. She peeked up at him, biting herlip and swaying slightly as though she wanted to step back but fought her own instincts.
“It is?” she whispered, her eyes on Damien's.
“Of course. There is depth to you that I rarely find in others. It is almost enough to...”
As though emerging from icy water, he lifted his head, breaking the eye contact and inhaling deeply.
“To...?” Emma prompted.
“Perhaps ifIwere to take the measurements instead of an entourage of strangers. I am sure that I could capture the information needed for Madame Rousseau. Would that be acceptable to you?”
It is utter nonsense. Why would she accept me when a professional woman is unacceptable?
Emma swallowed, then looked down, face scarlet. When she looked back, her eyes were bright gold, and Damien was entranced by them.
“Yes.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“My house is not far,” Damien said as they began to walk in an easterly direction towards Oxford Street.
Emma stopped abruptly.
“No, not there. The modiste will have arrived by now, and even if she has not… my sisters will have. I would prefer it not to be in their presence.”
Damien frowned, and then looked about as though reorientating himself.
“Then… we will go to the Black Lion on the Harrow Road. It is not far and they keep a room for me.”
He turned the horse which he led by her bridle and began walking north again. Emma followed meekly.
“They keep a room for you?” she asked quietly, “when your residence in London is so close by?”
Damien stumbled and then cleared his throat. Emma wondered if she had caught him in an admission that he did not want to make. What reason would he have?
She could think of one that she did notlikeand hoped was not the case.
“When the house at Portman Square was being prepared for me, I required lodgings,” he began finally. “And then there are times when I must come to London but do not… want my presence advertised to the ton. Staying somewhere on the periphery is useful then.”
“It would be useful for a gentleman who enjoyed entertaining ladies discreetly too, I suppose,” Emma said, boldly. “I ask only because you wish me to marry you. I would say that I have a right to know...”
Damien regarded her squarely.
“I swear on my honor and my name that there are no ladies whom I have or seek to entertain. Our marriage may be one of convenience, but I will be as faithful a husband as if it were real. And, for the sake of my reputation, which is the entire point of the marriage, I would humbly request you to do the same.”
Emma’s eyes widened a touch at his implication, then she shook her head adamantly. “Of course! I have given you no grounds to think that I am a lady of loose morals. That I would be anything but faithful!”
“You have not, and it was a factor in my choice,” Damien nodded solemnly. “I did not mean to cause offense.”
“You succeeded without meaning to, then,” she muttered curtly with a bitter grimace.
She strode ahead, lengthening her stride. They had left Hyde Park and were walking along the Oxford Road with open countryside to one side and the jumbled metropolis of London behind them.
