Page 70 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke
Damien saw Helene's face flush with pleasure and Emma's happy smile. He felt a swash of pride in Emma's skill at navigating the social currents, laying the foundations for friendship, and ensuring that he and she were becoming integrated into their society. It was everything that he had asked for and more.
“Well done,” he whispered.
Emma looked at him, puzzled. “For what?”
“For our first friendship within the ton,” Damien replied, “it will help us to be accepted and the Redmane name to be cleansed.”
The look Emma gave him could not have been more unreadable. She nodded, thrusting the mallet into his ribs.
“I prefer speaking to someone using their name, not a title. I have yet to think of your plan. I just want to be human.”
Damien took his place and knocked a ball through the first hoop. Winchester gave a hearty congratulations on the accuracy of the shot. Helene clapped. She had moved next to Emma, and they had begun to talk. He wondered at Emma's comment.
This has been my obsession for so long. Marriage was always a means to an end, and I ascribe the same motivations to everyone around me. Have I allowed this obsession to consume me? Did I remember what it means to be human at all?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Montrose Hall, the original and genuine Montrose Hall, had been neglected since the family had left. Rooms were locked, and their contents were covered in dust sheets. The household staff had been released from their jobs for the most part, as Silas Sutherland kept his own staff for Sedgefield. It looked neglected and on the verge of dilapidation.
“It is so sad,” Josie said, lips trembling.
“It will soon be brought back to life,” Sir Thomas assured her from his place beside her.
Emma's feelings echoed those of her sister’s. Rosie leaned on her, wiping her tearful eyes with a handkerchief. Their father cleared his throat and strode up the weed-choked path to the front door.
“Yes, once there is a staff once more, and the place is cleaned up, it will be as though we never left,” Emma said, one arm about Rosie's shoulders.
Josie followed their father, as Sir Thomas whispered words of comfort to her. He maintained a distance in deference to their father's presence, but his desire to protect Josie was evident. Emma felt a peculiar sensation of envy. Her heart ached for the love that Sir Thomas and Josie clearly shared, a pure and genuine affection.
I am being silly. My marriage to Damien brought my family to this, back to the home we did not think we would ever be able to regain. It has served us well.
But Emma realized that she wanted more. Using the arranged marriage to improve her family's circumstances was not enough. She wanted to improve her own. Those of her heart, at least. She looked to Damien, who stood to one side, perusing the park and then the house. His eyes looked critical, his face closed. Since the afternoon tea in the Queen's Garden at Buckingham Palace a week previously, he had acquired a new injury.
“How does your shoulder feel?” she asked, walking towards him.
“Tolerable,” he replied shortly.
“You are becoming accident-prone. I worry.”
Damien's eyes flicked to Rosie for a moment.
“You needn't. It is a temporary state of affairs.”
“Do you think Sir Thomas will ask for Papa's blessing today?” Rosie gossiped, “I have been aware that he has become increasingly nervous as the day has worn on.”
“Very perceptive, Rosie,” Emma pondered aloud, “I think he might. I have observed the same thing. But I am not sure that he has won father over yet. Even with the endorsement of the Duke.”
Rosie nodded somberly. “I have the same fear, though Josie believes in the sunniest outcome at all times. Papa is just not convinced that Sir Thomas is a man of enough substance.”
“Again, I would say very perceptive. Whenever did you become such a reader of people?” Emma arched a brow.
“You have your ability to organize and find solutions to problems. I have my perception. It is the gossip sheets that the skill comes from, they give you something of an insight into human nature.”
Damien snorted, and Emma glared at him. Rosie scowled, stepping away from her sister's comforting shoulder.
“You mock, Your Grace, but I should pay more attention to what the gossip sheets say, were I you.”
Damien looked at her askance. “I care nothing for gossip.”
