Page 5 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
“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 whatshewants?”
“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.”
