Page 30 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke
“Thank you, Your Grace. I try to keep a healthy cellar.”
“As do I,” Sir Silas said quietly, “this brandy tastes like a cask in my cellar, in fact. Remarkable similarity.”
The comments sounded like a jibe, but Damien could not see an obvious target. He narrowed his eyes, resting his chin on his fist, watching Sir Silas.
“You must tell me where you came by it,” Sir Silas added.
“A wine merchant in London, I believe,” Duncan chuckled nervously, “I will find the name for you. I have the invoice somewhere.”
Damien felt the need to change the subject and relieve Duncan's discomfort. It was not in Damien's interests—it would serve him far better for Duncan to view him as an ally. But despite his ulterior motives, he sensed that Duncan Montrose was a decent chap while Silas Sutherland was not.
“Ah. We met Sir Thomas Donovan in Nettleden,” Damien began, allowing Duncan to pour him another brandy.
“Indeed?” Duncan replied.
“I am acquainted with the family,” Damien lied smoothly, “very respectable, and an excellent young man he is.”
“My youngest daughter Josie is fond of them. I have tried to discourage the association,” Duncan remarked.
“Whatever for? Most appropriate, I should think,” Damien added.
“They hold no rank other than a courtesy title given by the Regent. His family are of the common stock, if moderately wealthy,” Duncan replied.
Damien dismissed the objection with a wave of his hand. “It does a noble house no end of good to receive an influx of new blood. That is how all the crowned heads of Europe have operated for centuries. Mark my words, Sir Thomas would be a fine catch for any lady, if you'll pardon my use of the vernacular.”
Duncan pursed his lips in thought. “Do you think so, Your Grace? Fascinating notion. I had hoped that all three of my daughters would marry above their station.”
“Rank is one thing. Character is far more significant. In my eyes, at least. But that is just my humble opinion. You know your mind, Eastwick,” Damien said amiably.
“You are privy to information that I am not,” Sir Silas cut in. “The Donovan’s owe their wealth to trade, and I have not as high opinion of their eldest son as you.”
“Perhaps it would be advisable to hold on to uninformed opinions then, Sir Silas?” Damien said with a bite.
At that moment, the door to Duncan's study was opened, and a servant announced the readiness of dinner. The three men rose and followed the servant to the dining room. There, they found Emma, Rosie, and Josie seated around the dining table. They rose as the men entered. Damien was ushered to a seat beside Emma, who sat beside her father. To Damien's surprise, Sir Silas sat at the head of the table, directly opposite Duncan.
“An unusual position for a guest,” Damien commented off-handedly.
He observed the ripple of concern that ran through the Montrose family.
“Charles shall not be joining us,” Duncan declared. “My apologies, it must have eluded my mind earlier. My eldest is unwell.”
Sir Silas smirked, and Damien gritted his teeth behind a smile.
“Sir Silas is a close friend of the family?” he murmured, low enough that only Emma could hear.
She glanced at him and gave the tiniest shake of her head.
“Ah, His Grace has been singing the praises of Sir Thomas Donovan, Josie. He said that the gentleman met the three of you in Nettleden. You did not mention that, Emma.”
“Oh yes, I forgot the encounter entirely,” Emma replied, abashed, “we met him at the church, and he walked with us for a while.”
“He will be thrilled to know that you think well of him, Your Grace,” Josie said, flushing.
“I do,” Damien nodded, “and have said so.”
He glanced at Emma, who smiled and blushed, hiding it behind a sip from her wine glass. Damien found his eyes drawn to her, fighting to keep his attention on the other guests and his host. Her auburn hair lay in ringlets around the pale skin of her shoulders. Earrings of glittering jade contrasted with her pale, hazel eyes. She was beautiful in a way that entranced Damien utterly.
I could stare at her for hours.
