Page 89 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke
It was the kind of silence that lingered after something had cracked. The sort that followed a revelation too large to fit into daylight just yet. Emma had not spoken of Harold this morning, and neither had Damien. But the truth hung between them like fog—something in their marriage had shifted, and she wasn’t sure it would ever be put back.
“Then deny me a seat in the trap, and I will follow on horseback. You will not keep me away!”
Charles had ridden out moments before to the appointed place. A heavy mist cloaked the ground. Damien stopped, whirling to face Emma so suddenly that she nearly walked into him.
“No,” he said, voice low and brittle. “I forbid it.”
Emma raised her chin, meeting his glare with her own. “It is not for you to refuse. You cannot refuse me the right to stand by my own brother. Do not try.”
“I am your husband,” he bit out. “I can command you.”
“I am your wife, not your servant or your property. And if you believe commanding me will grant you peace, you are gravely mistaken. We are wasting time.”
She looked pointedly at the pocket watch Damien hid in the refuge of his waistcoat. A long pause passed between them.
He sighed in frustration and then finally nodded.
“Very well. The Regent will doubtless be scandalized but have your way.”
The trap was being prepared at Damien’s instructions and Emma waited impatiently for the two-horse team to beharnessed. She folded her arms and looked out into the mist. Her breath came soft and steady now, but her heart was less cooperative.
“Elsie says that Harold has improved this morning. But will require constant care to weather the storm,” she said in a quieter tone.
“That is well,” he replied, stiffly.
She nodded, the silence stretching like a taut ribbon between them.
“Do you still intend to renounce your title in favor of your brother?” she asked.
“It is the right thing to do. At last. I have listened to him for too long when I knew it was wrong.”
“And if he does not wish to be Duke. As he did not when your father died?”
“Are you so reluctant to give up the title of Duchess?” Damien suddenly snapped.
Emma blinked. “You think that’s what this is?”
The horses were harnessed and bridled. The stable hands stepped away, not looking at their master and mistress who wereclearly arguing. Damien climbed up and took the reins. Emma took the seat next to him. He lashed them and the two-horse team trundled forward.
“Do you think so little of me that you think I argue simply to maintain my own comfort?” she retorted.
“No. I merely worry that the title is your only reason for remaining by my side,” he muttered back.
Redmane Park rolled by, mist lapping at the wheels of the trap.
Damien steered them down the road towards the designated spot for the duel. It had been agreed that it would take place between the Fitzgerald estates.Redmanebelonging to Damien andGreystonebelonging to Isaac. Greystone had been their father's house, the traditional home of the second sons of the Fitzgerald line while the first inherited Redmane. With the supposed passing of Damien’s elder brother, the estates had been shuffled, with Greystone now belonging to his cousin.
A line of ash trees appeared, flanking the road. Damien turned the trap down a lane before coming to a halt before a gate. Greystone Hall was visible below them, nestled in a vale. A copse of ash and birch grew beyond the gate and Emma could see the silhouetted figures of two men in the mist between the trees.
Damien opened the gate and offered his arm to Emma. As they approached the copse, a third figure appeared, walking towards them. Then a fourth.
Emma had not spoken since Damien's last remark. A silence had fallen over both of them, punctuated by the rattle of the trap, the snort of the horses, and the severity of the occasion. His words had cut her to the quick though, and she did not trust herself to speak yet.
They ambled through dew-soaked grass, mist clinging to the soil. She looked up at Damien as they walked and saw the armor he had hidden himself behind. She thought she detected pain in that rigid face though.
Pain at what he has said to me. Doubting me now when we have both acknowledged what we mean to each other?
Every time Emma thought on it, her eyes filled with tears. They were words that were sufficient to make her feel that her world was coming to an end. Just as she had come to feel that there was solid ground beneath her feet, it seemed to be crumbling.
