Page 67 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
Seeing that his wife, Lady Sarron, was younger than her, and a little timid, Emmeline did her best to put the lady at ease. It didn’t escape her notice that there seemed to be little affection between Nicholas and his wife. He was dismissive toward her, often speaking over her and rarely soliciting her opinions on anything.
Lady Sarron, in contrast, spent the evening in a state of almost perpetual flush, no doubt embarrassed by her husband’s lack of consideration. That, Emmeline conceded wryly, was somewhat exacerbated by the way Adam treatedher, ensuring that she always had enough food on her plate, and frequently asking for her opinion, even when they were discussing things she knew little about.
As a consequence, Emmeline did her best to take Lady Sarron under her wing.
“It is intimidating, is it not, when you become the mistress of a house like this?” she asked as they made their way to the drawing room after dinner.
The men remained in the dining room, partaking in glasses of port and no doubt continuing their conversation about farming techniques. Emmeline could conceive of nothing duller.
The young woman shot her a relieved glance. “Yes, indeed,” she said, appearing to latch on to the conversation starter with alacrity. “I confess I felt quite out of my depth when I married Lord Sarron.”
“I did too,” Emmeline lied blithely. “This is such a large house, and of course, Adam is a duke.”
Lady Sarron turned wide eyes on her. “You call him by his Christian name?”
“But of course. Do you not call Lord Sarron Nicholas?”
“Oh no,” Lady Sarron said, flushing again. “We are—we are very formal, even when it is just the two of us.”
“I believe some couples are,” Emmeline said, collecting herself. It was not her place to judge—and until recently, she and Adam were at odds. “My parents, for example.”
“I believe it is traditional?”
“Yes,” Emmeline said, sinking onto the sofa and patting the space beside her. “I believe you are quite right. Adam was never going to be the Duke, you know, and I expect that changed how he wanted to go about things. Lord Sarron was always set to inherit.”
“That must be it,” Lady Sarron said gratefully.
“Are you happy with him?” Emmeline asked cautiously. “I know how difficult marriage can be, particularly if you were not well acquainted beforehand.”
Lady Sarron blushed again, looking down at her hands. “We are still getting to know one another.”
Seeing she was not going to get anything more from the younger woman, Emmeline changed the subject, and they were talking happily about her cats when the gentlemen entered the room.
Rickard, having established who he was, appeared to enjoy Nicholas’s company, and Emmeline was relieved to see they all got along well. It was a small party, but agreeable, and they played cards until Lady Sarron claimed a headache and retired for the night. Rickard was the next to go up to bed, and Emmeline picked up a book until Nicholas, too, announced he intended to retire.
“Well, Emmeline?” Adam asked when the door closed behind his friend. “We ought to retire too, do you not think?”
Emmeline tilted her head up as he approached and kissed him deeply. “I’ll be up in a moment. I’ll make sure the kittens are doing well.”
“If I didn’t know better, I would say you like the cats more than you like me.”
She rose, patting his cheek and laughing at his petulant scowl. “Then it’s a good thing you know better, isn’t it? I won’t be long.”
The house was dark and quiet as she made her way up to the library, where the cats had made their permanent home. Now that she was no longer trying to get under Adam’s skin, it was an unfortunate place, but there was very little she could do about it. Twice, she had attempted to move them elsewhere, and twice they had made their way back to the library. All she could do was continue to ensure they did not cause too much damage.
“Hello, my darlings,” she said as she entered, making her way to the nest of kittens.
What sweet darlings they were. The mother cat purred as Emmeline scratched between her ears, checking them over. They had food and water, and no doubt if there were any mice in the vicinity, they were dealing with those, too.
She adored them.
But as she rose and checked them over, as she had come to do every night, she realized there was one missing. The white cat who had taken such a shine to Adam. She had named him ‘Snow,’ and Adam had named him ‘Begone’. She laughed quietly at the thought, moving toward the east wing. That was where Snow most often disappeared. He had a strange liking for that corner of the house, as though he could sense the past there, the mysteries.
Or, considering he just went to Adam’s desk, perhaps he just liked causing mayhem.
A light bobbed ahead of her, and as she turned the corner, she saw Rickard in the middle of the corridor, a candle in his hand. He was still fully dressed, though missing his coat, and appeared to be searching the wall for something.
“Rickard?” she asked, and he turned, his candle almost blowing out in his haste.
