The duke's dark brow furrowed. “Why? What would you have done? It is not as though you have need of a husband now.”
Emmaline's hands tightened into fists beneath the folds of her gown. “I might have spent a little more time with my sister,” she pointed out.
The duke shook his head. “Another time perhaps. I could not in good conscience leave my wife unaccompanied at a party while I am off to work.”
Emmaline met his gaze unflinchingly and said, “So I ask again, what am I to do,Your Grace?”
“You shall accompany me to the club,” the duke announced even as Lord Seymour entered the carriage and closed the door behind him. As if the duke noticed how she was about to protest, he sucked in a breath and added, “And if you do not wish to sit the throne beside me, Lord Seymour here shall escort you to my apartment above the club where you may rest.”
Emmaline thought she saw a flicker of hope in the duke's gaze.
Remembering her words that morning, she crossed her arms over her chest and said, “It has been a long day. I shall require rest.”
Though she did not regret that decision, as she lay in bed that night—in the duke's own bed in his apartment above the club—she couldn't help but think on all the debauchery going on beneath her.
The naked flesh, the kissing, the touching, the bodies that writhed against each other in the corners of the room. If she had accepted his offer to sit beside him, she might have gotten one hell of a show.
And she couldn't help but think,I am a married woman now, I am capable of more than a mere show.
Remembering how he had kissed her, how he had touched her on their wedding night, she hazarded a guess it would not take too much in order to invite the duke to consummate their marriage. Yet, she wondered, was that truly something she wanted?
Chapter 13
Whether she liked it or not, Lady Emmaline was now Alex's wife and as such, he was determined to get to know her better. It was abundantly clear to Alex that the lady was still quite unsure of him, wary and nervous around him. He felt it in the tension of her body every time he was near.
And though he oddly liked the tension he caused within her—in a way it made him feel as though there might actually be something other than mere arrangement—he was determined that they should both get to know one another.
So it was with that intention that he encouraged her out the next morning for promenade, walking from their house in order to ease into the public eye rather than simply appearing by carriage, dropped right into the middle of things.
At first, they walked in silence, entirely separate. But soon, Alex felt her drawing nearer. Or perhaps it was he who drew nearer to her. Either way, he enjoyed the feel of her walking at his side, especially when their elbows brushed, and he felt a shock of desire to take her hand.
“Have you been to promenade often, Your Grace?” he asked when he was unable to hold his silence any longer.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye, hoping not to make her too uncomfortable in his presence. He was used to the discomfort of people around him and his scars. It bothered him far less than it had when first he had been injured. But somehow, he cared what Emmaline might think.
“Once or twice,” Emmaline responded and she looked at him with a sweet smile, “And you, Your Grace?”
Alex cringed a little at the title falling off her lips. He had used it in order to respect her, but he had encouraged her from the beginning of their marriage to simply called him Alex or Alexander. Clearly, she was not yet comfortable enough to do so. Perhaps if he called her Emmaline more often…
“I have,” he said, nodding. “Though never with a lady quite so beautiful on my arm.”
He felt more than saw her shock. She wafted at her face with her fan. “You are just saying that.”
“Why? Because you are my wife?”
He looked at her then and she looked back at him, the words hanging between them.
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Any fool could see how beautiful you are, Emmaline. I did not need to be married to you to see it,” he stated as they neared the park where the promenades were so often held.
“Somehow, I don't quite believe you, Your Grace,” Emmaline said, dipping her head as if to take the sting out of her words.
Alex gritted his teeth and sucked in his breath. If only she knew that her beauty had captivated him from the first moment he saw her. Yet, he could not bring himself to voice such words, especially not in public where anyone might hear them.
As if she sensed his reluctance to continue the conversation, she asked, “Do you think perhaps we ought to link arms? For appearance's sake if nothing more, of course.”
Alex's stomach twisted. He would happily have her touch him and not merely for appearances sake.
