Chapter 16

Emmaline was most surprised when Lord Seymour did not just keep her company but also offered to take her into town to do some shopping. At first, she imagined it would be most inappropriate to find herself alone with another man. But then she remembered, she was a married woman now. She need not worry quite so much about things.

And in truth, it was a wonderful time.

From the moment they stepped out the carriage, Emmaline felt oddly safe with Lord Seymour. It was almost as if the duke himself were standing beside her. Perhaps that was because it was clear the lord would do anything for the duke.

And as they walked, window shopping for the most part, down the high street, Emmaline couldn"t help but ask, "Have yourself and the duke known each other a long time, Lord Seymour?"

"Please, Your Grace," he responded, "You may call me Sean if it pleases you."

Emmaline smiled at him and gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"And yes, we have been friends for as long as I can remember," he added. Emmaline thought she saw a little darkness enter his gaze as he averted his eyes, seemingly with the intention of looking where he was going.

"I get the sense your closeness is a little more than just friendship," Emmaline said quite boldly.

The nobleman"s gaze whipped back to hers. "I am not sure what you are implying."

Realizing she may have phrased it wrong, Emmaline gulped and quickly corrected herself, "What I meant to say was, you are quite devoted to your work for the duke. I do not know of any other nobleman who lives in the same house as his employer. In fact, its rarer for a nobleman to have an employer at all, is it not?"

Emmaline raised a brow as she spoke. The nobleman scoffed and shook his head. "Alex was right."

"Right? Right about what?" she asked, clutching the handle of her parasol just a little tighter. What had the duke said of her?

"You are quite outspoken and much unlike any other lady he or I have ever met," Sean said, laughing openly when she scowled at him.

"Why should a lady not be outspoken? Should conversation be boring and one-sided, My Lord?"

She glowered at him, feeling comfortable in the knowledge that as the wife of a duke, she now technically outranked the viscount, even if he was a man and she only a woman. She had every right to be outspoken.

"I did not say it was a bad thing, Your Grace," Sean pointed out, still smiling. His smile faded as he added, "To answer your query, it was not merely friendship that made the duke and I so close. I came to live with the late duke and his son as part of a business arrangement between the duke and my own father."

He shrugged then and sighed, glancing down. Emmaline was about to ask him what had happened when he looked at her and added, "Once that arrangement came to an end, I stayed on as Alex"s assistant. Sometimes, I believe it is because it is all I have ever known. But in truth it is because he is more family than my own have ever been."

Emmaline"s heart ached for the man as he spoke. There was such sadness in his tone that it made her stomach twist.

"I… I am sorry to hear that," she said, resting her hand for only a few seconds on his forearm.

Sean shook his head. "Do not be. I fear I would have been much worse off in life had I not been under the duke"s roof."

Emmaline sucked in a deep breath and thought hard before asking her next question, "What was the late duke like?"

She did not miss the way Sean flinched at the question. Maybe she ought to try and take it back.

Before she could, he explained, "The duke was a very powerful, well-respected man."

"Like Alex?" Emmaline asked and Sean flinched again. His reaction told her all she needed to know.

"No, nothing at all like Alex. Alex only got the very best parts of his father, though there were very few of those, his sense of ambition was likely the most evident."

Now Emmaline was even more curious.

"Alex does not talk of him much," she admitted, hoping it might encourage further talk.

Sean shook his head. "He will not. He takes every opportunity to avoid the subject. You see, his father was a cruel and ruthless man. It was he and his brother who came up with the devil lord. So I am sure just in my telling you that you can imagine what he must have been like."

Emmaline's throat ached with how tightly it constricted.

"I suspect he was much more like the devil lord and far less like the duke then?" Emmaline asked, and as if Sean were surprised she had gotten it so easily, his expression changed to one of shock before he nodded.

"Alex, the real Alex, and his father were practically total opposites," Sean explained.

"Then why does he continue this charade? If his father and uncle made the abomination, why not end it?"

Sean paused in his walking and looked down at his hands. "If only it were that easy, Your Grace. As I said before, Alex is an ambitious man. Not only that but he is a powerful man and there are many who expect certain things of him."

Emmaline swallowed hard. "Like his uncle?"

"Yes, his uncle. Though he is not the only one. He has other family who depend on him."

Emmaline nodded acknowledgement and they started to walk again. She twirled her parasol and made a show of looking in the shop windows before deciding to speak again. "Sean, I got a sense that Lord Black did not care for me. Did I perhaps do something wrong?"

Her chest tightened as she asked the question. She wasn"t sure she would like the answer.

A low kind of growl erupted from the nobleman"s throat as if he disliked the mere mention of the man. "He is almost as bad as his brother was, Your Grace. I would not care a fig for his opinion if I were you."

Again, Emmaline nodded, though she wasn"t sure she could take the man"s advice. After all, this was her husband"s family they were talking about, and it was clear to her that the duke cared greatly for them all.

She had wished so desperately to make a good impression. After all, they were technically her family now too.

"If he is so bad, why does the duke do business with him still?"

Sean shook his head. "It is not for me to tell you every detail of every story, Your Grace, forgive me. But I will say, do not judge the duke too harshly for he only does what he must and what he believes is right. He is a good and kind man, even if he may not appear to be at times."

Emmaline's heart ached all the more for she knew he was right, and she only wished the duke might be able to show that side of himself all the time.

Emmaline was about to say she already had a sense of that when Sean stopped outside a confectionary shop and said, "Your Grace, might we go in here?"

"Of course! Please, feel free."

She gestured Sean in and like a gentleman he held the door open for her, the bell dinging above their heads as they entered.

"Thank you," she told him before sweeping into the room filled with sweets and chocolates and all other manner of delicious things.

"Was there something specific you needed to collect, My Lord?" Emmaline asked even as the shopkeeper appeared from the backroom, summoned by the bell.

"My Lord," the man said, dipping his head to Sean. The look of apprehension in the man"s eyes told Emmaline that the duke wasn"t the only one with a dark reputation. It had clearly rubbed off on his man too.

"My Lady," the shopkeeper said, bowing his head to her. She saw the curiosity light in his eyes at the sight of her with Sean. "What can I do for you?"

"The duchess and I have come to collect the usual order," Sean said, removing his money purse from his pocket. "I expect you have everything prepared for the duke?"

"Oh, yes, yes," the shopkeeper said, hurrying to fetch a box from beneath the counter. "I would forget my head if it were not attached to my neck. Forgive me, My Lord."

"In the presence of the lady, I shall," Sean said threateningly. Emmaline noticed the tension in his shoulders, similar to that she had seen in the duke"s. Clearly, Sean was acting as much as Alex did.

It filled her with sympathy for them both though it felt awkward considering her conflicting sympathy for the shopkeeper who was on the other end of the threats.

"Very kind of you, My Lord," the man said, handing over the box. "It is all there, My Lord."

Sean took the box and with one hand started to check through it. He opened several of the brown paper bags, looking inside as if counting off what was inside.

It was only when he opened the last that a sweetly sour and awfully familiar scent hit her nostrils. "Are… are those lemon sherbets?"

Sean looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "How did you know?"

"I would know that smell anywhere," Emmaline chuckled. "I loved them as a child."

"Then help yourself," Sean insisted, holding out the box with the open bag of lemon sherbets on top.

"Oh no, I couldn"t!" She protested. "They are the duke"s."

"I won"t tell if you don"t," Sean said, offering her a wink. "Besides, I think he should like you to have one while I let you in on one secret about him."

Intrigued, Emmaline took a sweet and popped it into her mouth, leaning forward to hear what he had to say. "They are his favorites too."

Emmaline straightened up, feeling a little giddy. It was such a small, simple thing to like the same sweets, and yet it was something that made Emmaline smile immensely. If they could share something as simple as that, what else did they share a love of?

She was about to suggest that maybe she should be the one to deliver them to the duke when Sean sighed, his expression becoming somewhat unreadable.

"Is something the matter?" she asked instead, cocking her head slightly to one side.

Sean shook his and cleared his throat. "No, nothing is the matter. In fact, quite the opposite. I"m glad that Alex found you."

Emmaline raised a brow.

Sean glanced down at the box in his hand, cleared his throat and quickly said to the shopkeeper, "Thank you. That will be all."

"Please, allow me to open the door for you, My Lord, Your Grace."

The shopkeeper hurried to the door and did just that, yanking it open with a dinging of the bell.

Sean didn"t speak again until they both stood on the cobblestone pavement, the shop door closed behind them. "What I meant to say is, I am glad you found each other. I cannot speak for you, but I can see that the duke has been much happier since you arrived."

"Truly?" Emmaline asked, shocked. Much of the time she found the duke quiet, brooding and far too interested in his work to ever find happiness anywhere.

She could only imagine what he had been like before.

"The ball where you met, and then the one where he announced your marriage is one of the few the duke has attended since his accident," Sean explained. "In fact, save for the club, he seldom leaves the house. I do not remember the last time he walked anywhere, especially to the park."

Emmaline"s eyes widened. "That cannot be true. It has been years since his accident."

"Indeed," Sean nodded, "But it is true."

"But… but what about business meeting and such? Surely he has left the house for those?"

"Indeed though I"d hardly call leaving the house under the cover of night, wearing a mask to climb into a carriage and back out again at the club leaving the house, would you?" Sean asked, his brow furrowed. He silently offered her his elbow then before he asked, "Shall we return to the carriage so that I might offload this? It is quite heavy."

"Oh, of course!" Emmaline insisted, taking his elbow while he held the box still in both hands.

"Perhaps afterwards we might go to the tearooms for a late luncheon?" Sean suggested, "On me, of course."

"I"d like that," Emmaline smiled. In truth, she would have liked to know more about the duke, much more, and seeing as Sean was his closest friend it only seemed right the stories should come from him. Who could know him better?

"You said he hasn't left the house since the accident but in truth, I have no idea what that accident actually was," Emmaline said, gulping past the lump in her throat. When she felt Sean stiffen, she added, "I"m sure you know the rumor mill has thrown out all manner of explanation for the duke"s injuries?"

"Indeed, Your Grace, though I am afraid that story is not mine to tell."

Emmaline clenched her jaw. She had felt so close to learning the truth. Why couldn"t someone simply tell her what had happened?

"I understand," she said through gritted teeth. "I only wish to know what kind of hardship faces the duke so I might know how best to help him."

"Help him?" Sean looked shocked at that. "In what way do you hope to help him?"

He looked down at her with a quizzical expression.

Emmaline met his gaze and sucked in a breath before answering, "He is my husband. Is it not a wife"s duty to help her husband?"

Sean scoffed at that. "I suppose it is."

They reached the carriage where they had left it with the coachman at the end of the high street and Sean handed the box to a waiting footman. "The duchess and I are headed to the tearooms. See the carriage brought outside for when we are finished."

"Of course, My Lord," the young man said, bowing low before he turned to put the box onto the carriage.

"I shall say again, Your Grace, I am most glad that the duke has found you," Sean said as he offered her his elbow once more. "I did fear once that the devil might entirely consume him, but I think, perhaps, you might be the very thing to rescue him from such a fate."

Emmaline was shocked at his words, not because she didn"t intend to try but because Sean believed she could. After all, she was just a woman. What hope did she truly have of rescuing anybody from anything?

Late that afternoon, long after the tearooms and returning home to prepare for dinner, Emmaline heard the duke"s own return. She heard the definitive sounds of a man in full blown anger, yelling at servants and slamming doors. Whatever had happened while he had been out on business with his uncle, it couldn"t have been good.

And for a while, Emmaline remained in her room. Even once Mrs. Farthing had finished helping her prepare for dinner and suggested that she might wish to wait in the drawing room.

Emmaline had asked the woman to go about her other business, wishing to be alone with her thoughts. After all Sean had said, she was hopeful. And her urge to go to the duke, to ask him what the matter was and try to comfort him, was so powerful that it was impossible to resist.

After almost an hour of waiting, with no sign that the duke had called for dinner to be served, Emmaline finally left the duchess' chambers and headed downstairs.

Servants paused and bowed or curtsied low as she passed, and she offered them a friendly smile in return. If there was one thing she remembered her father had told her about her mother, it was that she insisted upon being friendly with her servants.

Her father had often told her how her mother would insist that a happy, well looked-after servant is a loyal and hard-working one. And as she was now a duchess, Emmaline felt it important to follow in her late mother"s footsteps, not only with the servants but also her husband. Her father had also told her that her mother never let him be troubled alone.

When she reached the door to the duke"s study, she paused with her hand raised to knock. Quite unsure as to whether it was a good idea to disturb him after how angry he had sounded, Emmaline sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Listening, she tried to get a sense of the mood inside the room. Yet, it was next to impossible as it was silent.

Is he even in there? Emmaline wondered but she knew he was. She hadn"t heard the door open since he went inside. Nor had she heard his footsteps about the house, their sound growing more familiar by the day.

Taking one final large breath, Emmaline knocked upon the door and waited.

"Enter!" the duke called with great authority in his tone.

And when she did enter, he looked up from his desk with surprise. "Oh, it"s you," he said, the emotion clear in his voice. "I thought perhaps you were Benedict."

"Did you have need of him?" Emmaline asked, "I can call for him?"

Now that she stood before the duke, she had lost all confidence for why she had come.

"No, no," the duke said, leaning back in his chair. He gazed at her intently. "Did you have need of something?"

Before she could answer, he gestured to the armchair opposite his desk and added, "Please, sit."

Emmaline did just that, feeling her knees growing weak at the sight of him. How could this gentleman of a man possibly be the devil lord?

It utterly baffled her that he seemed to play his act so well that nobody else had seen beneath the mask, that damn mask that sat on the desk beside him right now, glaring at her with its sightless eyes.

"I… I came to see if you were well," Emmaline said, deciding it best to see if his mood had recovered somewhat. "You came home in such a temper. I thought, perhaps, you might need to talk?"

The duke regarded her gently for a moment and she actually believed he might tell her the truth. Then his gaze hardened, and he shook his head. "There is nothing to talk of."

"Forgive me, Alex, but I can see that is not true," Emmaline said carefully. She played with the hem on the folds of her skirt as she spoke, hoping to keep herself calm though her heart was racing. "And since I am your wife, who better to talk to?"

Again, the duke"s gaze softened. The inner turmoil was clear in his eyes as it hardened once more. He shook his head. "It is nothing I cannot handle alone."

"But must you?" Emmaline asked, feeling a little braver as she saw the fight going on behind her husband"s eyes. Perhaps if she just gave a little push, she might be able to crack him.

"What is it that you want from me, Emmaline?" the duke asked. Emmaline paused, surprised and pleased by his using her name.

Gulping, she admitted, "I wish to know the truth."

The duke raised a brow. Clasping his hands together on his lap, he asked, "What truth is that?"

"I have married into the Black family, and I can see that its past is still affecting the family"s future, so therefore, I wish to know the truth of the matters surrounding it," Emmaline said, holding her head high even though inside she felt she had the heart of a mouse staring down a lion.

The duke scoffed at that. "There is little to tell. You met my uncle today. I am sure you got a true and accurate impression of him," he said, clearly unwilling to give anything else up.

"Is he the one forcing you to be this?" Emmaline asked, gesturing at the mask. "What does he have over you that causes you to put yourself in so much pain and torment?"

The duke actually flinched at that. It was as if she had struck him clean across the face.

"My uncle holds nothing over me," the duke snarled through gritted teeth. He leaned forward and added, "You do not know of what you speak."

And yet, his words made Emmaline think quite the opposite.

"Then does this have something to do with your late father? You have barely spoken of him and yet you handle his business and his estate in much the same manner as he did from what I have heard," Emmaline said, meeting the duke"s gaze.

It was in that moment she saw something of devil lord in him. He blew up so fast that Emmaline barely had time to blink before he was on his feet.

"What have you heard and who have you heard it from?" he bellowed.

Though she wanted to avert her eyes and cower away, Emmaline continued to meet his gaze.

"I do not believe that matters," Emmaline said, her hands growing still. "What matters is I have heard enough to know that you are troubled, and I wish to help. Please, Alex, tell me of your father."

For a second, she saw the shock in his gaze at her using his name. It was, however, quickly overwhelmed by the subject.

He shook his head so vigorously that Emmaline thought it might well roll over his shoulders. "You will not ask me of him. I will not speak of it."

Emmaline"s stomach twisted. What could be so bad that he utterly refused to talk of the man who had helped bring him into this world?

"I… I only wish to help you," Emmaline insisted, pleading with her eyes though he was barely looking at her now.

"You cannot help me. Nobody can. My father"s debts are my own now. I am The Devil Lord and nothing shall change that," he hissed, grabbing his mask from the desk. "Dredging up the past shall not, no matter how hard you might try. Leave it be, Emmaline."

With that he stormed out from behind his desk and headed for the door.

"Your Grace, where are you—"

Before she could finish, he turned back and said, "You married a scarred man, Emmaline, inside and out."

His gaze met hers. There was such pain there that Emmaline flinched. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him otherwise, but he turned away all too soon.

"I have to open the club," he growled and then he was gone from the room, leaving her feeling utterly deflated.

How was she supposed to live a life with this man if he did not even deem her worthy of the truth?

It was one thing to allow the rumor mills to spout out meaningless and sometimes atrocious gossip, but it was quite another to deny your wife the truth.

What would it take to truly connect with the man she was to spend the rest of her life with?