Chapter 10

When Emmaline awoke the next morning, she was astonished that she had managed to sleep at all. Having only ever slept in her own bed at her father"s London house or countryside estate, otherwise sharing a bed with Jane were they ever to spend a night away from home, she was quite surprised that she was so well rested.

In fact, her night had been quite pleasant. Though she did not remember her dreams often, she had small flickers of remembrance from this night, dreams of tenderness and lust that made her heart race.

Still, as she laid in her new bed as the duchess of Westmarch, she stared up at the ceiling and her confusion and anger returned to her.

How could The Duke of Westmarch and The Devil Lord be the same person? How was it possible that she could be married to them both? How could she be so abhorrent of the devil and all he stood for and yet, utterly attracted and downright feverishly frustrated in the presence of the duke?

Her feelings made no sense. The duke had been deceitful, the devil cruel, and yet, he was all she could think about.

It was him she was thinking about when there was a knock upon the bedroom door, so much so she wondered whether perhaps it was him, come to finish what he had begun in the foyer the night before. And that made her heart thunder.

He shall not have me! She declared to herself strongly. She would not be wooed into bed just like that, not by a man who had proven himself so untrustworthy. No matter how much she felt for him or how wonderful his kiss had felt the night before.

Her fingertips rose to her lips, reimagining the tingle she had felt when he had kissed her. The same sensation lingered between her thighs.

Cheeks growing hot, she cleared her throat and called, "Come in!"

When the door opened, she was disappointed to find that it was an older woman, perhaps in her forties or fifties, wearing the typical dark, plain yet well-kept garb of a servant.

"Your Grace, I am Mrs. Farthing, his grace"s housekeeper," the woman said, dropping into a curtsy at the end of the bed. "His Grace has asked me to see you dressed and brought down for breakfast. Until the duke has secured you a lady"s maid, I am to be at yourself service."

"Oh, I… umm, thank you, Mrs. Farthing," Emmaline said, "But that is truly not necessary. I may make do on my own if need be."

"Hmm. That need not be, Your Grace," Mrs. Farthing said. She crossed the room and pulled back the heavy draped, causing Emmaline to squint against the early morning sun, before she turned and added, "My employer sees fit to have me help you and so I am at your bidding."

The woman"s tone left no room for argument and so, Emmaline dipped her head and said, "Very well."

"Please, let us have you up and dressed, Your Grace," the housekeeper said, gesturing Emmaline from her bed. "His Grace does not like to be kept waiting."

The housekeeper"s words still rang in Emmaline"s ears as she was guided down to the breakfast room. She had seen very little of the house so far but what she had seen was grander than any she had ever set foot in. And with every step, she grew more and more nervous.

It appeared that in some ways, the duke and the devil were alike, for they both demanded strict timeliness and respect in their employees and their wives.

Emmaline entered the breakfast room anticipating she might be reprimanded for being late but upon her entering, the duke rose respectfully from his seat and moved to greet her.

"Lady Emmaline," he said, taking her hand. When he kissed her knuckles, she felt herself swoon but caught herself, remembering all the aggravation he had already caused her. "May I say that you look radiant this morning. I do hope that my mother"s old gowns shall suffice until we are able to collect more of your things."

"I… umm…" Emmaline stammered, unsure of what to say. "Yes, thank you, Your Grace. They are truly beautiful."

"Good. I am glad they are to your liking," the duke said, and he held her hand even as he gestured toward the table. "Please, allow me to show you to your seat."

Emmaline struggled to breathe past the lump in her throat. Why did he have to be so gentlemanly when she was trying so desperately to hold onto her anger toward him?

Why did he also have to be quite so handsome? She tried her hardest to see what he claimed everyone else saw: the horrid, scarred monster of a man who made children cry and grown men flinch. But all she saw was a handsome man marred by whatever terrible accident had befallen him. It made him rugged, mysterious, intriguing, all of the things she loved to read about in the romance novels she had her nose in as an adolescent.

Perhaps that was why she felt so strongly toward him? It was not him but in fact the idea of the man he might be? She would not allow her girlish notions of romance to get in the way of her intelligence or her anger.

And so, when she was seated and the duke moved to sit back at the head of the table beside her, she dipped her head and said, "Forgive my tardiness, Your Grace."

"Nonsense. Last night was late and I did not wish for you to be disturbed too early," the duke announced, shaking his head. He clicked his fingers and a man—who Emmaline guessed was the butler—appeared seemingly out of nowhere to begin serving food onto their plates as he added, "I hoped after breakfast I might interest you in a tour of the house and its grounds?"

Emmaline"s heart skipped a beat. Such a grand, wonderful old house certainly had a great many hidden treasures. She had always been one for admiring beauty in architecture and gardens. With an imagination such as her own, it was not difficult to imagine all the wonderful things that had occurred within the halls of such places.

Calmly, she stated, "I would like that, Your Grace."

Breakfast was had in near silence with the duke only having asked how she had slept and if Mrs. Farthing had treated her well enough so far, if her lodgings were to her liking and was there anything that she had needed.

In fact, the duke was a true gentleman, a wonderful host, and a downright infuriating nuisance.

How could such a gentleman also be the devil who had caused so much heartache and torment across London?

His tour of the house left her even more confused as to that question. He spoke so fondly of the place, lighting up as he told her stories of his childhood with younger sister, though Emmaline did notice his failure to mention his parents or even the uncle he had made mention of the night before.

He kept a suitable distance as if trying his hardest to prevent a reoccurrence of what had transpired between them in the foyer.

When he showed her the library, Emmaline felt a wonder the likes of which never experienced before. She had been in a great many libraries, but this one was astounding. With its high vaulted ceiling and its shelves that reached all the way to said ceiling, she imagined losing herself among the pages of every one of those books.

It might well take her a lifetime. And yet, she thought with some fear and trepidation, she now had that very lifetime in order to do so, a lifetime as the wife of The Duke of Westmarch.

It was a wonderful yet terrifying thought. And as if the duke saw her eyes light up at the sight of the place, he assured her, "What is mine is yours now. You may come in here whenever you wish."

Grateful beyond words Emmaline dropped into a low curtesy and gasped, "Oh, thank you, Your Grace."

She was shocked when the duke leaned down to take hold of her hand and guide her back to her feet.

"Please," he said gently, urging her chin up to meet his gaze. "Don"t curtsy before me like that. Not when we are alone. You are my wife. I know we do not yet truly understand what that means for the both of us, but I shall respect you enough that you do not need to do such things."

Emmaline grew more and more astounded by the hour.

Before she could say a word, he squeezed her hand and said, "There is one more final room I must show you before we move onto the gardens. Shall we?"

Emmaline could not seem to find her voice and so she simply nodded.

Allowing the duke to guide her out of the library and down the hallway, she marveled at the last room just as she had all the others.

"This is my office," the duke announced, "Should you ever have need of me, you shall most likely find me here if I am not at the club."

Emmaline took a moment to take it all in as she had every other room, sweeping around its edge, tracing her finger over the edge of tables and shelves, looking at the trinkets here and there.

There were a great many of them and Emmaline suspected that like many of the grand houses of England, they had been collected over the centuries and the many generations that had lived in the house. She suspected even the duke himself did not know of every last item he now possessed that had once belonged to his father, and his father before him, and his father before that.

The centerpiece of the office, a huge black wooden desk that was polished to a fine and glossy finish was what caught Emmaline's eye the most, and she stepped up to it, caressing its surface. Never had she felt something so smooth nor seen a wood so black.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" the duke asked. Out of the corner of her eye, Emmaline saw him smiling with the good side of his lips. "It is made of ebony. My father had it imported from Africa on one of his many business trips."

"I have never seen anything like it," Emmaline admitted.

The duke nodded. "I have rarely seen it in England either," he admitted. "I am pleased to possess such a rarity indeed."

Somehow, Emmaline felt he was no longer just talking about the desk for the way he gazed at her made her tremble.

"Please, let us sit," he said, gesturing to the plush cushioned couch opposite the desk. "I am sure I have kept you on your feet long enough."

Now that he mentioned it, Emmaline"s feet were aching. She suspected they had walked a few miles worth of steps throughout the house and they had yet to look at the gardens.

She moved to sit on the couch beside the duke, keeping a careful distance. "I am sure a great many business events have taken place at such a desk."

"Indeed," the duke said, and Emmaline thought she sensed him stiffen. "A great many and on the desk before it. I come from a long line of businessmen who just so happen to also be dukes."

"It must be nice to have such wealth and title to afford you such a cozy life, Your Grace."

Emmaline bit her lip the moment the words left her tongue. She turned her head in an instant, her eyes widening. "Forgive me, Your Grace, it is not my place to say such things."

It was clear that her words had struck a chord within the duke, and he stared at her as if unsure whether to let his anger rain down upon her.

She braced herself, expecting a show from the devil himself. Instead, the duke sighed and shook his head. "Contrary to what you may believe, Lady Emmaline, my life has been far from easy. Walking in the footsteps of a man such as my father can be… challenging."

"What was he like?" It felt a natural question to ask but again she felt a fool when the duke"s eyes snapped closed.

"I shall not discuss my father with you," he said, shaking his head. "He is dead and buried and left me everything. That is all you need know."

"Forgive me, I did not mean to cause you any hurt, Alexander," Emmaline said softly. It was only when she followed his gaze that she realized she had laid her hand on his on his knee.

Snatching it away, she averted her gaze.

"What of you and your father, Emmaline, you said at the club that it was you who encouraged your father into the India shipment investment?"

Emmaline gulped. This time it was she who closed her eyes.

Pained, she nodded curtly. "Yes, it was."

"Had such a tragedy not occurred, it would have been a remarkable investment indeed," the duke stated and shocked, Emmaline looked to him.

She did not find even the slightest hint of mocking, only admiration in his eyes.

"I… I suppose that does not matter now," she said, feeling a little uncomfortable.

"I wonder," the duke said, examining her closely. "Do you have a real head for business, or was your interest in the India investment only a brief dipping of your toe into the pool?"

Emmaline"s entire body tingled with excitement at the mention of business. Though tinged by the failure of her first proper investment, her flare for such things had not dampened.

"I… my father, at least in the privacy of our home, has often called me his most trusted advisor," she admitted.

The duke regarded her silently for some time. She was just beginning to think he might actually laugh at her words when he leaned forward, sucked in a breath, and said, "I wonder what you might make of my own business dealings."

Emmaline blinked hard several times. Finding him still staring at her, she realized she had not imagined it. He was waiting for her response.

"I… I am your wife, Your Grace. I am at your disposal."

"You are. And when we are alone, call me Alex, please," the duke said, then gestured toward a pile of what appeared to be letters on the ebony desk. "Go on, take a look and tell me what you think."

Emmaline hesitated. Was this some kind of trick? Was he deceiving her into complacency only to remind her that she was a lady and a duchess now and should not fill her head with such nonsense?

"Please," he said, "I should be grateful for your opinion."

Emmaline rose to her feet and on trembling legs, carried herself back to the desk.

She glanced over her shoulder and waited for a nod of approval from the duke before picking up the pile of correspondence.

Reading through them she found that a number of them were letters from tenants struggling to pay their taxes to the duke"s estate. Another couple were from the duke"s financial advisor about his sister"s education and there were yet more regarding debts to be paid to the duke.

"It appears you have a great deal of payments to settle but also a great deal of debts to be paid to you, Your Gr… Alex," Emmaline said, looking through the letters again with her business head on. "I am not sure what use my advice would be. I am no duke. I have not handled such matters."

"Try," the duke insisted, his tone deep and almost sultry.

Emmaline looked over the letters again and, clearing her throat, said, "In regard to your tenants in the country, how many months taxes are owed?"

She felt him watching her but was unable to meet his gaze. His curiosity was palpable.

"Some only a month, others more."

Emmaline nodded acknowledgement.

"Then I would suggest that those only a month in arrears be given the benefit of the doubt and those deeper in debt be encouraged to pay what they can until they are back on their feet. Also, I would look at your ledgers to see if perhaps the tax you command of them might perhaps be a little high?"

Realizing what she had said, she looked over her shoulder at the duke, half-expecting him to be outraged at such an accusation.

Instead, he looked thoughtful.

"What of the other matters?"

Emmaline thoughtfully. "As to the debts owed you, I would suggest that maybe, like myself, you might find a way for them to pay you in service rather than money if they are unable to pay?"

"I am afraid that one may not be possible," the duke said, shaking his head. "These are large sums of money I am owed and if I am unable to redeem them, how am I to pay my own?"

Emmaline gulped. It was a valid question.

"I have often found that my father has a sentimental heart and somewhat the attitude of a hoarder. There are things within his house that he has not laid eyes on for a decade or more and they are of little use to him. Perhaps, begging your pardon, Your Grace, there might be similar such items within your walls? Or perhaps land you have yet unused serving no purpose, or maybe even a horse in your stables sitting unused? Your father"s or perhaps even your mother"s?"

On a roll, she glanced down at herself and pointed out, "I have not heard tell of a Duchess of Westmarch for many years and so I can only assume your mother, God rest her soul, has not been present for some time yet you still have her gowns, and I might suspect, her jewels and such?"

When she looked at the duke again, she saw his eyes darken. This time, she was certain she had gone too far. It was one thing to suggest moving money about to make ends meet but suggesting a man sell off his dead mother"s things was quite another.

She held her breath as the duke pushed himself to his feet and closed the distance between them. He did not take his gaze from hers even when he stood before her. And when he reached for the letters in her hand, his fingers lingered upon hers in a way that made her quiver.

"You are either a brave or a very foolish young lady, Emmaline," he said without so much as blinking. "Though, I do believe your advice is not without merit."

Emmaline gulped hard. Her throat felt raw with emotion.

The two of them stared at each other for a long while, locked in each other"s gaze until the duke took the letters from her hand and said, "That is quite enough of that."

It was only as he looked away to place the letters back on the desk that the spell was finally broken and Emmaline was able to speak again, "Your Grace, Alex, if I may, if there is such trouble in your business ventures, why do you persist with this devil"s act?"

Having turned to the desk, the duke caught himself on the edge of it, his entire body visibly tensing at her question.

"You could never understand."

"Perhaps I might if you explain it properly? Is it some strange manner in which you honor your late father perhaps? Or some way of—"

"Enough!" the duke growled. "I do not wish to talk of my father. All you need know is it is the family business, one that my uncle and I take great care of in order to ensure the needs of our family are met."

Emmaline dropped her gaze. "Forgive me, Your Grace, I have spoken out of turn."

"I suspect, Your Grace, that is something you do rather regularly," the duke said, his tone filled with warning, though when he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, she could have sworn she saw a spark of amusement.

Emmaline cleared her throat and dipped her head. "It is something I will try to work on."

"Don"t," the duke responded, causing Emmaline to look up. "It is… refreshing."

Emmaline blushed, smiling uncontrollably.

"I suspect that as The Devil Lord, you are not used to people speaking up for themselves," Emmaline said. His gaze was warm upon her as he nodded.

"You suspect correctly. It is rare that I am able to be myself around anybody," the duke explained, and Emmaline felt a pang of pity for him as he added, "Even rarer still that anyone might be themselves around me."

Emmaline gulped. Had she been herself around him? Perhaps she was a little more guarded than usual, but yes, she supposed she had been.

"That does not appear to make you happy, Alex," Emmaline said, her heart hammering. Perhaps she was speaking out of turn again. Though he had encouraged her to, it still felt quite dangerous. "Why do you continue this charade if it makes you so unhappy?"

"Playing the devil is lucrative in ways you could never understand," the duke explained shaking his head. He lowered his gaze then, his expression becoming thoughtful. He rubbed his chin in quiet contemplation. "Unless…"

"Unless?"

He looked at her then and Emmaline"s chest tightened. She suspected that whatever came out of his mouth next, she wasn"t going to like.

"Unless, perhaps, you might see fit, as my wife, to sit beside me on my throne?" the duke said, his eyes sparking excitedly with the idea.

Emmaline's response came in a sudden, instinctual burst as she blurted, "Absolutely not!"

The duke"s distaste at her response was evident. She was about to point out to him that it was he who had encouraged her to speak her mind when he suddenly, he broke away from her and headed for the pull cord beside the fireplace.

Emmaline gulped hard. His change in demeanor was nerve-wrecking. It took all she had in her to remain with her head held high, hands clasped before her.

A few moments after he had pulled the cord, the butler appeared in record-breaking time.

"Your Grace," the gray-haired man said, dipping his head as he entered. "How may I be of service?"

"Please have my carriage prepared. Her Grace and I have somewhere to be."

The butler dipped his head once more and was gone again from the room.

As if he sensed her questioning gaze, the duke turned and explained, "It is time we visit your family and share our news. I have hopes of also sharing the terms of our arrangement with your father should he be well enough."

Emmaline"s entire body trembled then. It was one thing to tell people of an arrangement before it occurred and quite another to face those people afterwards.

Besides, she hadn"t heard anything from any of her family since she had left them the day before. What if something had happened to her dear papa?