Chapter 2

"I'm afraid," a cold voice said from behind her, "that is not up to you. Nor do I have any wish for it to be."

Emmeline whirled, a hand on her heart, as her gaze fell on the Duke for the first time. At that moment, she knew she had been right in her assessment of him. He was tall, almost disagreeably so, and had dark hair swept severely back from his face. His eyes were a crisp, cold blue and held nothing but derision as they roamed over her face.

Still, despite that, he was one of the most heartbreakingly handsome men she had ever seen, his sternness only serving to accentuate the fineness of his features. His jaw was strong, his lips thin but sensual, and the overwhelming masculinity of his face made the length of his lashes appealing rather than feminine.

"Do not flatter yourself," she retorted. "Your wishes are the least of my concerns."

If his heart was even a fraction as cold as the expression on his face, he would not suit her sister.

"Emmeline!" her father scolded. "You will not speak out of turn."

"It is no matter," the Duke said, turning away from her as though she did not exist. "You asked to see me?"

"Yes." Despite being the older man, her father shot to his feet and extended a hand. "I thought we might finish conducting our business in person."

The Duke's cold gaze roamed over her father's face, and his expression did not change. In Emmeline's estimation, he was in his late twenties or early thirties; there was no sign of gray in his dark hair, but something about his eyes suggested that they had seen a great deal, and much of it was unpleasant. Despite herself, she felt the power inherent in those eyes, and the shocking vividness of their color.

"Yes," Emmeline said, her lip curling. "No doubt it's time to finally look at the fiancée you have secured yourself and see if she is to your fancy."

The Duke's gaze flickered to her. "I have already ascertained all I need to know."

"Oh!" This man was insufferable. She drew herself up as tall as she could go. "And I suppose her temperament is of no concern?"

Something flashed across his expression, too fast to read. Then he bowed. "It is certainly none of yours."

"Please, sit down." Her father gestured toward his chair, interrupting the icy tension between them. "Please excuse my daughter, Your Grace. She was just leaving."

Emmeline folded her arms and remained in place. "Your Grace," she bit out. "As Lord Sunton has mentioned, I am his daughter, Lady Emmeline. What a delight to finally make your acquaintance."

The barest hint of a derisive smile touched the corner of the Duke's mouth. "If only I could say the same."

"Good grief. You truly are rude."

"Only when I am first met with rudeness." He turned back to her father with that same dismissive air. "Shall we continue with the meeting? I have very little time to spare."

"Aurelia is in the drawing room," Emmeline said pointedly. "I'm sure His Grace wishes to meet her."

"That will not be necessary." The Duke's voice was cold. Absolute.

"Nonsense," Emmeline said, looking at her father. "Papa, do you not agree? The Duke should have an opportunity to meet his bride-to-be."

"Of course." For the first time that day, her father did not let her down. "Come this way, Your Grace. My youngest daughter is in the drawing room."

An expression of irritation crossed the Duke's face. "That is unnecessary, My Lord."

"I insist. She will be delighted to meet you." He let out an uncomfortable laugh. "I have just informed her of our plans, and I believe she was a little surprised, but seeing you will erase any possible hesitation in her mind, I am certain."

Emmeline was far less certain, and she sent up a silent apology for exposing her sister to more distress. But if her father could see how much distress Aurelia was in at the mere idea of marrying a man so very imposing and stern, he would not insist on pursuing the marriage.

Particularly as it seemed no marriage contracts had yet been drawn up. This entire farce could be stopped now before it was too late.

The Duke's eyebrows descended over his sharp, aristocratic nose, but after a moment, he gave a sharp nod. Emmeline moved to the door, opening it and leading the way back to the drawing room.

"Aurelia," she began when she entered the room. "I am so sorry, but the Duke of Kant is here to see you. Do not fret, dearest, and do collect yourself."

She had no time to say more before the Duke himself swept into the room, regarding his surroundings with a cold stare.

Aurelia's lip quivered. She was, usually, a particularly pretty girl, but the paleness of her skin and lips did not play to her advantage, and the luscious beauty of her blue eyes was dampened by the tears that still clung to her lashes.

The Duke stared at her, not so much as deigning to smile, no sign that he was impressed crossing his features.

Good. If he wanted a wife who might adore him, then perhaps he ought to choose differently.

"Aurelia," the Earl said, stepping forward, uncharacteristically hesitant. "This is His Grace, the Duke of Kant. And this, of course, is my wife, Lady Sunton."

The Duke nodded at the Countess and returned his unfeeling gaze to Aurelia's face. She dropped her eyes, a flush suffusing her cheeks. Her fingers trembled where they were clasped in front of her.

"Aurelia," their father commanded. "Where are your manners?"

Aurelia sank into a curtsy, her fingers still locked together. "Your Grace," she whispered.

Emmeline was able to hold back her anger no longer. She crossed the room to where Aurelia was still looking at the floor, and she wrapped her arms around her sister's shaking shoulders.

"If you are inclined to marry my sister, perhaps you might consider courting her first, instead of turning up to our house and demanding a wife in this vile way," she hissed.

The Duke slowly let his gaze fall on her, and she felt as though she was burning under the cold fire in his blue eyes. "And why, pray, would I do that?"

"Because she is clearly terrified!"

"That hardly seems to be my concern."

Emmeline looked at her father. "Papa, please!"

"Well, I daresay a courtship is not strictly necessary if he has already made up his mind."

"And what about her mind? What about what she wants?"

"A courtship would be unnecessary," the Duke said.

"And why is that?" Emmeline demanded.

"Hold your tongue, Emmy," her mother hissed. "He is a duke!"

Emmeline was well aware of that but raised her gaze to his in defiance. If he thought she would roll over before him just because he willed it, he was sorely mistaken.

Something flickered behind those cold eyes of his, but all he said was, "The reasons behind my decision are none of your business. I will collect my bride in three days."

Aurelia's shaking sobs broke free, and Emmeline tightened her hold. "You are cruel, Sir."

He raised an eyebrow. "Am I?"

"Papa," Emmeline said, determined to fight until her last breath. "Surely you cannot think to put your daughter through this distress."

Her father spread his hands. "She has three days to come to terms with it. It is an excellent match."

"What does a dukedom matter if she will be miserable?"

"Emmy," her sister sobbed. "Please."

"What about you, Your Grace?" Emmeline asked, turning to the Duke. "Do you care about my sister at all?"

"Why should I?" the Duke asked, sounding bored. "It is hardly necessary for a man to harbor affection for his wife."

It would not be polite of her to launch herself at him and gouge his eyes out, but that was what she felt like doing. Her hands shook with rage as she stared at him. "If that is how you feel about the subject, why not take me instead? I am the older sister."

Her mother gasped, and her father stepped forward, but she kept her gaze on the Duke. His cold eyes rested on her face for a dispassionate moment before he made a dismissive gesture.

"It matters not who I marry so long as she has a dowry."

Aurelia's shoulders shook. "You cannot sacrifice yourself for me, Emmy. You cannot."

The Duke looked at her with distaste. "I dislike crying," he clipped. "And overly emotional women. So long as you obey my rules and do your duty as my duchess, then I have no objection to marrying you in your sister's stead, Lady Emmeline."

Her mother fell back into her chair, fanning her face and flushed chest. Emmeline continued to glare at the Duke. If he did not want an overly emotional wife, then he would not have one, but that did not mean he would be pleased with the alternative.

"Your Grace," the Earl stammered out, "are you satisfied with this arrangement?"

"If I were not, I would have said so." The Duke's gaze returned to Emmeline. "You may hate me all you like in private, but you will be civil and respectful in public. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," Emmeline said.

"I shall require utter obedience in certain matters. Is that understood?"

"I said so the first time, Your Grace."

There was no hint of a smile on his icy countenance as he nodded once, sharply. "Then I believe the matter is settled. I shall take my leave. Sunton, have a marriage contract drawn up. I shall sign it forthwith."

With a sharp nod that managed to convey nothing but derision, he strode out of the room.

Emmeline immediately rose and slammed the door shut after him, not caring if he heard. After all, he did not concern himself with the opinions of others, so she would do nothing to secure his good opinion.

In fact, the worse he thought of her the better; then he would be less inclined to spend time with her once they were married.

"Emmeline!" Her mother had recovered enough to sit up, but there were tears in the corners of her eyes. "Good heavens, girl, are you in your right mind? How could you offer yourself up to that awful man? And against your father's will?"

"Quite easily," Emmeline said coolly.

"You cannot!" Aurelia wailed. "He will be so cruel to you for speaking to him so boldly."

"Any crueler than he was for demanding someone so unwilling marry him anyway? I will collect my bride-to-be in three days," Emmeline mocked, puffing out her chest and putting her hands on her hips, imitating his deep voice. "He was insufferable!"

"He is a duke," her mother said weakly.

"Does that make him any less proud or egotistical?" Emmeline demanded. "Or in any way less prone to the flaws that other men suffer from? I do not think so."

"What are you going to do?" Aurelia asked, wiping her eyes and taking a shuddering breath.

"Why, I am going to marry him, of course," Emmeline said scornfully. "What else am I to do?"

* * *

Adam Hansen, the new Duke of Kant, elected to walk home. That had been a more challenging meeting than he had anticipated, and he needed the cool air to calm his thoughts.

Marriage was, unfortunately, a necessity if he was going to save his estate, but having met his prospective wife, he had a sneaking suspicion it was going to be even more unpleasant than he had imagined.

Although, he thought grimly, wiping his hand across his face, better the harpy than the crying damsel he had almost pledged himself to. Lady Emmeline had little to recommend her but her dowry, but it was better that way, and at least she would not flood the house with her tears.

Adam hated tears.

He also disliked overwrought displays of emotion in any respect. The fact that Lord Sunton had not revealed the true nature of his daughter, or her unwillingness to marry, had irritated him beyond belief.

Still, the end result was exactly as he needed it to be, and once they were married, he could use her dowry to save his estate. Once that was done, he would have succeeded in carrying out his duty. He would have done everything William had, no doubt, intended to do.

And if his new wife despised him, what did that matter?

He reached the small townhouse he rented while he stayed in town. The house in Grosvenor Square had to be sold to pay off the immediate debts, but he was more attached to Crowny Castle. That was where the last memories of his mother still resided.

"Welcome back, Your Grace," Keaton, the butler, said as he took Adam's coat. "Is there anything I can get you?"

My brother back.

That had been a constant refrain since Adam had returned. Better he was still in the Navy and his brother was still alive.

The claws of grief threatened to rip into him again, and he managed a brief smile. "No, thank you. Just brandy."

"Very good, Your Grace. Will you be working in your library?"

Adam nodded and made his way through the small house. ‘Library' was an optimistic term for the room in which he found himself, which sported perhaps a dozen books and a rickety table on which he did his accounts, and came to the conclusion that William must have been an avid gamester to squander such riches in such a short space of time.

Yet, although he was disappointed by the way William had systematically destroyed a fortune the Kant family had spent generations amassing, Adam still missed him. He missed the time when they were boys and ran across the estate together, climbing trees and fishing and doing everything together the way boys did when they had no responsibilities.

It was after that his father began to take an interest in William and dislike Adam. Everything had changed from that point on.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to settle into the uncomfortable chair, and when Keaton brought in the brandy, he accepted it with a distant smile.

"I will be leaving London soon," he said. "And relinquishing this house."

As a good butler should, Keaton showed no emotion at this news. "Oh?"

"The next time I return to London, I hope to find a house that will better suit myself and my wife."

"Your wife, Your Grace?"

"Yes. I intend to marry in three days. I have the special license ready." Adam patted his pocket. That had been an expense he had not been certain was worth it, but now he was glad he had gone to the trouble. "And from there, I intend to travel to Crowny Castle."

"Very good, Your Grace. I shall inform the staff."

"Thank you." Adam hesitated, unused to this feeling of gratitude that washed over him. "I also wish to say… thank you. For your service."

Keaton's lined face creased into a smile. "It was an honor to serve your brother, and it is an honor to serve you, Your Grace."

"I hope to soon repair the damage that recent events have wrought on our fortunes. This marriage is the first step in that direction."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"I am expecting a letter from the coroner," Adam said, keeping his voice cold and unconcerned. "When it arrives, please forward it to me."

"I believe it is already on your desk, Your Grace."

Adam rifled through the papers—so much correspondence now that he had rejoined Society, as though everyone could persuade him to forget that he was his father's hated son, the spare that no one had ever expected to inherit. Underneath it all, however, he found the letter he had been looking for.

Once he had returned to news of his brother's death, he had made it his mission to discover once and for all what had happened, and why his brother had died so suddenly when there had been nothing wrong with him.

Suicide had been ruled out quickly, which Adam was grateful for. His brother had left no note, and there was nothing to suggest—aside from his financial woes—that there was anything amiss. His friends had all said the same—that they had noticed no change in his mannerisms or mood.

Thus, Adam had contacted the coroner and requested that an investigation be made, and his brother's body examined.

This was the news he had hoped to receive.

"I will ring for you if I need anything."

Understanding the dismissal, Keaton left the room, and Adam ripped open the letter with unwarranted enthusiasm, scanning its contents. Although an investigation had been carried out, William's body had not been discovered. Another point that suggested his death had not been accidental, although at whose hands, Adam could not imagine.

Frustrated, Adam tossed the letter to one side and drank his brandy in a single gulp. So that lead had gone nowhere.

Of course, it was possible that his brother's death was an accident, but William had not been a careless man. The simple explanation that he had tripped did not sit well with him.

No matter what, I will come to the bottom of this and discover who was responsible.