Gulping, she admitted, “I wish to know the truth.”
The duke raised a brow. Clasping his hands together on his lap, he asked, “What truth is that?”
“I have married into the Black family, and I can see that its past is still affecting the family's future, so therefore, I wish to know the truth of the matters surrounding it,” Emmaline said, holding her head high even though inside she felt she had the heart of a mouse staring down a lion.
The duke scoffed at that. “There is little to tell. You met my uncle today. I am sure you got a true and accurate impression of him,” he said, clearly unwilling to give anything else up.
“Is he the one forcing you to bethis?” Emmaline asked, gesturing at the mask. “What does he have over you that causes you to put yourself in so much pain and torment?”
The duke actually flinched at that. It was as if she had struck him clean across the face.
“My uncle holds nothing over me,” the duke snarled through gritted teeth. He leaned forward and added, “You do not know of what you speak.”
And yet, his words made Emmaline think quite the opposite.
“Then does this have something to do with your late father? You have barely spoken of him and yet you handle his business and his estate in much the same manner as he did from what I have heard,” Emmaline said, meeting the duke's gaze.
It was in that moment she saw something of devil lord in him. He blew up so fast that Emmaline barely had time to blink before he was on his feet.
“What have you heard and who have you heard it from?” he bellowed.
Though she wanted to avert her eyes and cower away, Emmaline continued to meet his gaze.
“I do not believe that matters,” Emmaline said, her hands growing still. “What matters is I have heard enough to know that you are troubled, and I wish to help. Please, Alex, tell me of your father.”
For a second, she saw the shock in his gaze at her using his name. It was, however, quickly overwhelmed by the subject.
He shook his head so vigorously that Emmaline thought it might well roll over his shoulders. “You will not ask me of him. I will not speak of it.”
Emmaline's stomach twisted. What could be so bad that he utterly refused to talk of the man who had helped bring him into this world?
“I… I only wish to help you,” Emmaline insisted, pleading with her eyes though he was barely looking at her now.
“You cannot help me. Nobody can. My father's debts are my own now. I amThe Devil Lordand nothing shall change that,” he hissed, grabbing his mask from the desk. “Dredging up the past shall not, no matter how hard you might try. Leave it be, Emmaline.”
With that he stormed out from behind his desk and headed for the door.
“Your Grace, where are you—”
Before she could finish, he turned back and said, “You married a scarred man, Emmaline, inside and out.”
His gaze met hers. There was such pain there that Emmaline flinched. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him otherwise, but he turned away all too soon.
“I have to open the club,” he growled and then he was gone from the room, leaving her feeling utterly deflated.
How was she supposed to live a life with this man if he did not even deem her worthy of the truth?
It was one thing to allow the rumor mills to spout out meaningless and sometimes atrocious gossip, but it was quite another to deny your wife the truth.
What would it take to truly connect with the man she was to spend the rest of her life with?
Chapter 17
When Alex returned home in the early hours of the morning, he was still reeling from the way he and his new wife had parted.
The questions she had asked had been too personal, he had been too shocked at her asking them to even consider being able to answer, and yet now he felt remarkably guilty. It was all he had been able to think about behind his devil's mask while he surveyed The Devil’s Lair in brooding silence.
A part of him wanted to go to Emmaline's room, to talk to her and apologize for how he had stormed out, to explain that she was not to take his reaction too personally. But he knew very well that she would be asleep. Everyone in the house was asleep. He hated the thought of his staff awaiting his every beck and call, waiting up simply to hang his jacket or help him off with his cufflinks before bed.
