“Perhaps we have more in common than we first realized,” he said, offering her his arm so that they could continue to walk. “I have always wondered why people put so much favor upon red roses. Yellow is much brighter and more beautiful in my opinion.”
Emmaline marveled over the rose in her hand as they started to walk. “I agree.”
After that, their company felt much more comfortable. The smile upon Emmaline's face seemed much more genuine and Alex found he was actually enjoying himself, barely noticing those all around them still gossiping as they had the evening before.
“When we toured the gardens, I did not manage to show you all,” Alex admitted, “Perhaps when we return, I might show you the rest? There is very little left to see but at the bottom of the orchard, there is a garden, one my mother used to call the secret garden. It is quite beautiful.”
Emmaline’s grip on his forearm tightened and when she smiled at him there was unbridled joy in her eyes. “I think I would like that very much.”
She sniffed the rose once more with meaning almost as if she wished to commit its smell to memory. Alex found himself hoping that from now on, whenever they both smelled roses, they would both think of this day.
“I think perhaps we ought to return by carriage,” he suggested, “The sun grows overbearing.”
Again, she nodded, “I agree. Shall we find one now?”
She glanced away then as if registering the fact they were still being watched. And in that moment, Alex would have given anything to be alone with her.
Taking her hand in his, he lifted her knuckles to his lips and kissed them. Looming down at her as he did so, he whispered, “Your wish is my command, my dearest duchess.”
The tension between them then made Alex wish it had not been her hand but her lips that he had kissed.
It took all he had in him to pull away and start in the direction of the carriage bank.
This woman was making it exceedingly more difficult for him to keep up his disguise as the all-powerful, fear-inducing duke. And yet, in a way, he liked it.
It was a dangerous notion and so, half-way to the carriages he yelled, “You there! Boy! Fetch me a carriage!”
And watching the young boy he had just accosted rush off in the direction of the waiting coachmen, he felt an odd mix of relief and shame.
I must do what I must do for my family,he reminded himself firmly. Though Emmaline was included in that family now, he could not allow her to be his downfall.
Chapter 14
Though he was not wearing his devil’s mask during their walk or their carriage ride home, Emmaline felt as if she could see the duke’s disguise slipping. The yellow rose she continued to hold all the way home was a sure sign of that. Or so she felt. Perhaps, she was merely being hopeful.
But being hopeful was far more pleasant than feeling hopeless. And so she clung to it with everything that she had, giving the flower a discreet sniff whenever the duke was not looking.
“I do hope that promenade wasn’t too uncomfortable for you,” he said as the carriage he had hired pulled out of the park.
“Not nearly as uncomfortable as I had anticipated,” Emmaline responded, smiling gently. “I do hope it was not too unpleasant for you either.”
The duke turned his gaze from where he had been staring out of the window at the passing London streets. With a raised eyebrow, he asked, “Why should it be unpleasant for me?”
Emmaline shrank back. Why did she have such an easy time of putting her foot in things where he was concerned?
Averting her gaze from his to the rose in her hand, she shrugged and said, “It is nothing, merely that they say you are somewhat of a recluse and do not enter into public very often.”
The sound of the duke’s scoffing caused her to look up again. He actually looked amused.
“Who exactly are they?” he asked, cocking his head. The half-smile on his face suggested he knew very well whotheywere.
Emmaline swallowed hard. “Most everyone who I have ever heard talk of you,Your Grace.”
The duke cleared his throat and leaned forward. His eyes, that once had been like shining black obsidian, she now realized were more of a deep, charcoal gray. Though they were very nearly black, there was a luminescence to them that sparked with shades of gray and blue and perhaps even a little brown.
Emmaline had never quite seen such striking eyes before. And they held her there as she gazed into them.
“Though, on this occasion, Your Grace,” the duke sighed, “I would say they are right. I would urge you not to believe all of the gossip that you hear.”
