Chapter 14

Though he was not wearing his devil's mask during their walk or their carriage ride home, Emmaline felt as if she could see the duke's disguise slipping. The yellow rose she continued to hold all the way home was a sure sign of that. Or so she felt. Perhaps, she was merely being hopeful.

But being hopeful was far more pleasant than feeling hopeless. And so she clung to it with everything that she had, giving the flower a discreet sniff whenever the duke was not looking.

"I do hope that promenade wasn't too uncomfortable for you," he said as the carriage he had hired pulled out of the park.

"Not nearly as uncomfortable as I had anticipated," Emmaline responded, smiling gently. "I do hope it was not too unpleasant for you either."

The duke turned his gaze from where he had been staring out of the window at the passing London streets. With a raised eyebrow, he asked, "Why should it be unpleasant for me?"

Emmaline shrank back. Why did she have such an easy time of putting her foot in things where he was concerned?

Averting her gaze from his to the rose in her hand, she shrugged and said, "It is nothing, merely that they say you are somewhat of a recluse and do not enter into public very often."

The sound of the duke's scoffing caused her to look up again. He actually looked amused.

"Who exactly are they?" he asked, cocking his head. The half-smile on his face suggested he knew very well who they were.

Emmaline swallowed hard. "Most everyone who I have ever heard talk of you, Your Grace."

The duke cleared his throat and leaned forward. His eyes, that once had been like shining black obsidian, she now realized were more of a deep, charcoal gray. Though they were very nearly black, there was a luminescence to them that sparked with shades of gray and blue and perhaps even a little brown.

Emmaline had never quite seen such striking eyes before. And they held her there as she gazed into them.

"Though, on this occasion, Your Grace," the duke sighed, "I would say they are right. I would urge you not to believe all of the gossip that you hear."

Emmaline raised her head rather proudly and responded, "I have always taken all said with a pinch of salt."

"Good because the ton have an awful reputation for spreading false rumor," the duke stated, and his gaze darkened. Never once did he blink as he looked at her and added, "I am sure you have heard the stories of how I got my scars."

Emmaline's stomach twisted. She had heard more rumors on that count than she cared to mention. She dipped a curt nod and opened her lips to ask what the true story was.

Yet, she never got the chance for the duke leaned back so suddenly in the seat that it made the carriage rock even more than the uneven terrain beneath them. He sighed deeply and said, "But that is a story for another day."

Frustration clawed Emmaline's insides. She had heard so many stories of the duke and his scars. She had heard a thousand different tales of how he had come by them. She would have liked to set the record straight on a few things, especially when it came to her sister, Jane.

Though she had spoken to her only a little at the ball, what little had been said, it was clear she was concerned for Emmaline's safety with a man who was decidedly known to be dangerous and powerful.

Hoping her new husband might one day be comfortable enough to share the truth with her, she dipped her head, cleared her throat and said, "I imagine it is not something easily relived, Alex. I understand it would not be something you wished to talk about very often."

She looked up just in time to see the duke cringe. "Indeed."

This time, it was her gaze that caught his and she found she could not blink as she said, "We all have things we would rather not relive, things we wish we could do differently, things we'd rather not have happened at all."

Her insides twisted again painfully as she thought of the reckless investment she had encouraged her father to make in the India shipment.

"Yes, well," the duke sighed, and crossed his arms over his chest. "It is best not to dwell on these things. We must always look forward, never back."

Emmaline smiled and dipped her head in agreement.

She was only mildly relieved when the carriage pulled up outside Westmarch House. Though the conversation had turned somewhat serious, she had enjoyed her husband's company far more than anticipated.

With every day that passed, things appeared to be growing easier. Perhaps it was the seemingly genuine interest the duke showed in whatever she had to say. Or maybe it was the fact that they were already married and so they had no real expectation to keep up with appearances.

In a way, they were able to be themselves without fear of losing anything. After all, a marriage seemed to be the ultimate accomplishment among the ton and here Emmaline was having accomplished it at only eighteen years old and to a duke no less.

"Is something troubling you, Emmaline?" the duke asked, and it was only when he did so that she realized he had already clambered out of the carriage and was holding up his hand to help her down the steps.

"I…umm… no," Emmaline said, shaking her head. How was she to tell the duke what she had just been thinking about? That she had only just come to realize how lucky she had been. Some ladies waited years to find the perfect match, to find the wealthiest and most titled man they were able and to convince them that they were the perfect match.

Yet, in a matter of one evening, Emmaline had secured herself a marriage to a duke. Albeit, he was The Devil Lord of London. But how many people really knew that the duke and the devil were the same person?

Emmaline had heard talk of them both but never as if they were the same person and so, to the rest of the world, she was simply a duchess now, not the devil's bride. She could at least be thankful for that.

Realizing she had lost herself in thought again, she quickly reached out and placed her hand in the duke's.

In a most gentlemanly fashion, he guided her down the steps and it was only when she reached the bottom that she realized just how closely the two of them were standing. She had to crane her neck up to look him in the eye and when she did, her chin almost brushed his torso.

In an almost breathless manner, he whispered, "Let me take you to the secret garden?"

A thrill ran through the length of Emmaline's body. She would have liked to accept right there and then but first she said, "I must take this inside for some water first." She held up the yellow rose to him and smiled. "I should hate for it to wither."

The duke nodded and started to guide her up the house steps, holding her hand firmly in his as if he were fearful to let her go.

As they approached the door, it opened and the duke's butler arrived in the doorway with a quick, "Your Grace, Your Grace," bowing to each of them before he stepped out of the way and awaited their coats.

"Thank you, Marsons," the duke said. "Where is Mrs. Farthing? The duchess requires a vase of water."

"I am here, Your Grace," Mrs. Farthing said, appearing from the hallway into the foyer with a low curtsy before she approached, head still dipped. "Please, Your Grace, allow me to take that for you."

She held out her hand for the rose and yet, somehow, Emmaline couldn't bring herself to release it.

"Perhaps you might bring the vase to me?" she suggested, "I would like to see it put in its proper place in my room, please?"

At that, the duke smiled.

"Perhaps you might tell me where you wish for it to be put, Your Grace? There is no need to trouble yourself," Mrs. Farthing said, still holding out her hand for the flower.

"Lady Emmaline, the sooner you release the flower, the sooner we can see the secret garden," the duke pointed out, raising his good brow.

Reluctantly, Emmaline released the flower into the housekeeper's capable hands. She did indeed wish to see this secret garden that the duke had mentioned a few times now. It was most intriguing. And yet, letting go of the flower was harder than she had ever anticipated.

What it symbolized was a newfound intimacy between herself and the duke, one she had never hoped would pass between them. And the warmth she had felt at receiving it, she did not quite want to let go of just yet. More than that, it represented the fact that the duke was not nearly so cold-hearted as he had made out. After all, what kind of man would pay so much for a single rose if not for charity? And what kind of monster paid any mind to charity?

"Please, see that it is well cared for, Mrs. Farthing," Emmaline insisted before she placed her hand once more on the duke's waiting arm.

"Of course, Your Grace," Mrs. Farthing said. She curtsied low once more before she hurried off to see to the yellow rose.

Emmaline watched her go until the duke finally started to guide her through the house.

"It is just a rose, Emmaline," the duke insisted but Emmaline shook her head.

"No, it is far more than that," she said, smiling back at him. "It is a reminder of our morning together."

"Ahh," the duke said, eyeing her closely. "Then it appears I have married a sentimental little fool."

His words might have been overly harsh—perhaps he meant for them to be that way—however, there was a great deal of affection in his tone that actually made Emmaline smile.

"I suppose you did," she responded rather proudly. She saw nothing wrong with being sentimental, and if that made her a fool then so be it.

They walked through the house and out into the gardens in silence. Yet, it was not any kind of awkward silence. In fact, Emmaline found the quiet reassuring. Just as she found the closeness of the duke and the sound of his footsteps comforting also.

An odd sense of security had begun to creep over her in the last few days. Perhaps her mind was finally growing used to the fact she would be married to this man for the rest of her life, and she could certainly imagine a great many men far worse to be married too. Or perhaps it was the fact that she was actually beginning to enjoy the duke's company.

As the duke had promised her, the secret garden was about as hidden as one could expect. They neared what appeared to be the very end of the gardens where an eight-foot brick wall was decorated with climbing plants of green ivy, purple clematis, and pale pink wisteria.

They walked down the shingle path that ran parallel to the wall for a few minutes until the duke stopped where the wisteria seemed to grow exceptionally thickly.

"Here we are," he announced, and Emmaline glanced around, her cheeks growing hot as she became all too aware that she wasn't exactly sure where here was.

The duke smiled with the good side of his face, his eyes sparking with quiet affection. At least, that was what Emmaline thought it was.

He slipped his arm out from her grasp and stepped towards the wall. Emmaline watched in astonishment as he reached out and pulled back the trailing wisteria to reveal a small archway just wide enough for one person at a time to slip through.

Holding back the plant with one arm, he held out his other hand and said, "After you, my dear."

Emmaline swallowed hard. Of course, the duke had told her there was a secret garden but how was she to know that was what lay beyond the archway?

For a second, she hesitated, frozen with fear. She remembered all too well the rumors and gossip she had overheard of The Devil Lord over the years. The man had tricked and tormented half the men of the ton and a wondrous amount of their families besides. But why?

The man half-smiling at her now couldn't possibly be that man, could he? The duke was far too pleasant to be that man.

And so, she slipped her hand into his and allowed him to help her through the archway. Sweeping a couple of loose fronds back with her own arm as she went, she stepped out into what was perhaps the most beautiful area she had ever seen in her life.

The garden was entirely walled off. At its center was a large weeping willow tree that overhung a pond decorated with water lilies. The abundance of bees, butterflies and dragonflies that were all buzzing about caused the place to look like some kind of paradise. The flowerbeds were a mixture of wildflowers and purposefully planted flowers like yellow rose bushes and fruit trees.

Emmaline stood just within the archway, taking in the wondrous sight. The duke was only just able to slip in beside her, allowing the wisteria to drop back down behind them, cutting them off entirely from the world.

"I… I…" Emmaline struggled immensely to find her voice. "It's beautiful."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the duke offer his arm again. Instinctively, without looking, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and clutched hold of his forearm, her knees trembling as he guided her around the pond to the trunk of the willow where a bench had been built right around the tree. Its white paint was flaking a bit, but it did not take away from the beauty of the place.

In fact, it only added to it. This place had been here a long time. That much was clear from the bench, from the height of the tree, from the overgrowth of several plants.

How many people have sat upon this bench? Emmaline wondered even as the duke gestured for her to sit. Somehow, she closed her eyes and imagined what the duke's mother might have been like, sitting in this very spot where she sat now beside her son.

"You said this place was your mother's?" Emmalina asked. The duke nodded though he didn't speak. He stared at the pond with an unreadable expression. Emmaline's stomach twisted with guilt. Perhaps she ought not have mentioned her.

"She did. It was her favorite place on the estate," he said, still gazing across the pond.

Curious as a cat, Emmaline asked, "What happened to her?"

The duke stiffened at the question. "She passed a long time ago. I do not wish to talk about it."

The way he spoke through a clearly clenched jaw spoke of the pain he still felt at the loss of his mother. Emmaline wondered whether he felt the same for his father.

Of course, he must. Every child mourned their parent"s death. The mere imagining of losing her own father made her nauseous. It had come incredibly close this week.

"I have come to learn, Your Grace, that it does not matter how long it has been," Emmaline said gently, and she reached out instinctively to grip his hand on the bench between them.

He flinched and for a moment, she feared she had overstepped her bounds once more. Then, the duke"s grip tightened on her fingers, and he pulled her hand up to his chest.

"I suppose we have at least one thing in common then," the duke said, looking at her over her knuckles as he kissed them.

Emmaline shivered. She wasn"t sure that the similarity of their both having no mother was exactly a good thing to have in common. Though she supposed shared grief might be a place to start to get to know one another better.

And yet, she also shivered because of something else entirely. The way the duke looked at her over her hand, how his eyes penetrated her's, set butterflies fluttering about her stomach as they never had before.

"You know, my dearest Emmaline, I have refrained from saying so before now as I did not wish to make you uncomfortable but," the duke said, lowering her hand into his lap so that there was nothing between them. "Right here and now, I feel I must tell you, you are quite beautiful."

Emmaline"s breath hitched in her throat. The way the duke was leaning in, how he continued to meet her gaze with unrelenting desire, made her quiver.

"Your Grace… Alex…" she had no idea what to say to such a compliment. Ordinarily, she might simply have thanked him as she would any gentleman. But no other gentleman had ever been this close before.

And when he reached up to stroke a strand of hair back behind her ear, his fingertips brushing the height of her cheekbone, she started to blush.

"Here in this garden," the duke said, leaning in ever so close now, so close that their noses nearly brushed, "I do not know what has come over me, but I feel I must tell you that you are the most beautiful creature I have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes upon."

He whispered, their noses touching now. His breath was sweet, seductive, and Emmaline willingly closed her eyes. Anticipating what came next, she quivered uncontrollably. This felt like the moment she had been waiting millennia for.

Her heartbeat quickened until she believed it might well give out entirely. The duke raised her hand to his chest and placed her palm against it as if he wished for her to know that this was beating just as frantically.

The gentlest caress of his lips barely brushed hers. She groaned with the desire for it to deepen.

Then, just as she thought it might, just as the duke cupped her cheek with his free hand, someone cleared their throat.

Emmaline was so shocked by the sound, her eyes flew open wide, and she threw herself off the bench. Feeling as if she had just been caught in the gardens with an inappropriate gentleman by her father, she dipped her head, blushing uncomfortably.

The duke rose more slowly and demanded, "What is it, Sean?"

Emmaline gulped. Sean, why did it have to be Sean? Of course, he acted like just another one of the servants much of the time, pandering about for the duke, but he wasn"t one of them. He was a nobleman as much as the duke was and somehow, that made his finding them in such a manner all that more difficult.

"Forgive my interruption, Your Graces, but I am afraid your uncle is here," Sean explained, dipping his head. Emmaline did not miss the smirk he gave the duke as he raised it once more.

"Blast him!" the duke cursed under his breath but when he turned to Emmaline, he was smiling with the good side of his face. He added much more clearly, "I suppose it is time for you to meet some of the family."

Emmaline struggled to wrap her head around it. One minute they had been about to kiss, what she imagined would have been a long and passionate kiss, and now he was offering her his hand to meet his uncle. It was a terrifying notion. Until now, she had only been introduced to his acquaintances, and Sean, but to meet a family member was utterly terrifying.

Still, what other choice did she have? She would have to meet whatever family he had at some point. Though he had been a recluse to society for a long time, there was no doubt in her mind he cared greatly for his family, his staff included.

The meeting of the uncle did not go at all as Emmaline might have anticipated.

Though entirely too nervous to do much talking, she had hoped to at least make a good impression.

Upon entering the drawing room where Lord Black awaited them, Emmaline sensed it would not be possible, no matter how good a first impression she tried to make.

"Uncle, to what do I owe the pleasure?" the duke asked, entering the room with Emmaline on his arm.

Like the duke himself, his uncle was dark haired and gentlemanly in looks. But there was a darkness in his eyes, though they were much lighter than the duke"s, that Emmaline did not like. Seeing it immediately set her teeth on edge.

"We have business to discuss," Lord Black announced, meeting his nephew"s gaze as if he had no intention of even acknowledging Emmaline"s presence.

"Indeed, Uncle, but first there is a young lady I should like you to meet," the duke explained. "Please, allow me to introduce you to the newest Duchess of Westmarch, my wife, Emmaline."

Emmaline shivered at the name and how he introduced her, but it was not out of fear or disgust. She actually liked it.

Being a duchess afforded her all kinds of privilege that she never even dared dream of before.

When the uncle made no attempt to respond save for turning to look Emmaline over, she dipped her head and took matters into her own hands. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Black."

"Hmm…" the duke"s uncle hummed, eyeing her with a furrowed brow.

"When were you planning to tell me of this?" Lord Black asked, and it was quite clear he was speaking to the duke though he never took his eyes off Emmaline.

She felt like some kind of exhibit in one London"s art galleries or some act in a circus. And it was clear from his attitude that Lord Black was not approving of her, though for the life of her, she couldn"t understand why.

"I wrote to you," the duke stated, shoulders squared.

"Not what I meant," the uncle ground out.

"Perhaps we ought to talk of this privately while we discuss our other business?" the duke suggested.

Lord Black scoffed and for a second, Emmaline thought he was going to protest. Then he shoved his hands into his britches pockets and said, "Very well. Shall we go to your father"s office?"

"My office," the duke corrected, and Emmaline"s stomach twisted.

What is that all about? She wondered, still with an awful feeling in her gut when it came to Lord Black.

"Yes, yes, indeed," Lord Black insisted. "I forget."

For the first time, he acknowledged Emmaline then, dipping his head low as he said, "Your Grace."

Though his mannerisms were pleasant enough, there was an edge to his tone that made Emmaline more than a little uncomfortable.

"Lord Black," she said, curtsying in return. The last thing she wanted to do was appear impolite.

She was most surprised when the duke took her hand from his arm and lifted it to his lips.

"I do hope we shall not be too long, my love," he said and though Emmaline sensed that his kindness was for the benefit of his uncle"s witnessing, she couldn"t help but feel there was something else behind it also.

"Please, take all of the time you need," she insisted, "I am quite able to occupy myself in your absence."

The duke smiled at her over her hand and kissed her knuckles firmly. "I am certain you are," he said and a little quieter he added, "But I should much more enjoy being with you."

His words made her heart race and when he released her hand, she realized it was trembling.

"We haven"t got all day, Alex," Lord Black insisted, already having made it to the drawing room door.

Emmaline cringed. Would the duke really accept someone speaking to him in such a manner?

It appeared he would. Emmaline told herself it was simply because they were family and yet something about it rubbed her entirely the wrong way.

"Whatever was all that about?" Emmaline whispered once she was left alone in the drawing room.

Her heart ached the moment that she did, for she realized, she was entirely alone. Ordinarily, on such an occasion in her father"s drawing room, Jane would be standing right there beside her, sharing in her bafflement or offering an explanation.

Here, she was alone. But she clung to the feeling she"d had in the secret garden with the duke, for that was worth holding onto.