Page 79 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke
Damien had not spoken of a musical aptitude, but she did not know everything about him yet.
“They do. The music room is locked and has been since the late Duchess, the Duke's mother, passed away. The Duke has never played.”
Emma’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It is odd. I thought I heard the sound of a violin coming from somewhere before the clock chimed. I thought I must be imagining it. Who is the ghost supposed to be?”
“They believe it to be the Duchess, the wife of the former Duke. She was a lover of music and wished to teach it to her sons, but her husband would not allow it. That's what they tell me anyway,” Elsie shrugged lightly, bringing a teapot to the table. “She is supposed to haunt the music room as that is where the music is heard from, but it has been locked up since the old Duke's day.”
“Hmm. And where is this music room?” Emma asked.
“On the fourth floor.”
As Elsie poured two cups of tea, Emma gaped at her.
“The fourth floor? I thought this house possessed only three.”
“The fourth floor has been sealed except for a single stair that leads up into a tower,” Elsie replied.
Emma found herself quite stupefied.
Had she paid attention to the outside of the house, she would surely have noticed. Damien had never mentioned a floor above his rooms.
Our rooms. They are our rooms now.
That sense of proprietorship excited Emma. She sipped her tea, suppressing a smile but knowing that her cheeks were flushing. Then, her mind returned to the mysterious music she had thought she had heard.
Was it my imagination? If other members of the household have heard it, then it cannot be. But if so, then who orwhatis it?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The sun split the sky, beating down upon the heads of the gathered thousands. Lords, ladies, and gentlemen filled the areas of Ascot racecourse, which was set aside for them, a milling field of brightly colored wildflowers.
Beyond them, the ordinary folk stood, packed in close to each other up against the wooden fence that separated them from the course. Emma walked arm in arm with Damien towards the pavilion that housed the Regent. Charles strolled alongside them, providing an escort for Rosie. Josie followed, somewhat disconsolate.
Emma disengaged from her husband to turn back to her sister.
“You have been very quiet, Josie. I have not had an opportunity to ask since we visited Montrose Hall. I presume that Sir Thomas did not ask Papa for your hand?”
Josie frowned. “Oh, he did. He certainly did. An impassioned plea, Papa said. He listed all of his qualities and how he would be able to maintain my standard of living. How I would be loved and adored for the rest of my life and provide Papa with grandchildren.” She turned to face Emma squarely. “It fell on deaf ears!”
Josie looked as though her world had come to an end, so sorrowful was she. Emma regretted not paying more attention to her family in the last week. The excitement of the breakthrough with Damien had overwhelmed her. Then had followed a series of luncheons at Redmane Manor and the invitation to Royal Ascot to think about.
Good heavens, but I do not wish to be someone who cares more about social engagements than my own family. I should have been a confidante for Josie, at the very least a shoulder to cryon.
“I did all I could to persuade your father,” Damien said, returning to them, “he is stubborn and strong-willed, though I cannot entirely blame him. I would feel much the same way.”
Emma walked with her arm around her younger sister as she glared at her husband.
“You agree with our father's estimation of Sir Thomas Donovan? That he lacks substance?”
Damien shrugged, then winced. Emma momentarily forgot Josie's troubles, knowing he had acquired a new injury. Afterbeing away from Redmane overnight, he had avoided intimacy on his return for the last two nights.
He had told her that he was merely exhausted and content with holding her, but she felt him tensing when she touched certain parts of him. If she did not think it so absurd, Emma might guess that he had been out on some dangerous profession like a highwayman.
She forced her mind back to her sister.
“I think that he is a perfectly nice young man. Charming, kind, and gentle,” Emma smiled warmly.
“The kindest, most charming, and most gentle!” Josie echoed.
