“Why hasn’t Mr. McLeod mentioned having a duke for a brother?” Thea asked, her brow pleating.
“I don’t think Mr. McLeod and Strathaven are close.” Considering the animosity Emma had witnessed between the two, that might be the understatement of the year. What had driven a wedge between the brothers? she wondered. “According to Ambrose, Mr. McLeod wants to find success on his own merits and doesn’t want it bandied about that he’s heir presumptive to a duke.”
“And Strathaven’s not just any duke, he’s theDevil Duke.” This came from Rosie, the resident Society expert. “According to the gossip rags, he’s as wicked as they come. As I recall fromDebrett’s, he wasn’t even the next in line for the duchy—he only got the title after two distant relatives ahead of him in the succession mysteriously died.”
“Gadzooks,” Violet breathed.
“There’s more.” Rosie’s voice lowered to a dramatic timbre. “There were whispers of cruelty during his first marriage. To this day, some say the duchess was fleeing from him when the ship she was on went under.”
Gasps went up in the room.
Emma’s nape tingled. “Why is a man like that still welcomed in Society?”
“He’s more than welcomed—thetonpanders to him,” Rosie said. “People might say things behind his back, but they don’t dare give him the cut direct. He’s too rich and powerful. Now he’s looking to secure his dynasty with an heir, and according to theon dit, his requirements for a wife are rather peculiar.”
Emma frowned. “In what way?”
“He’s made it clear he expects complete obedience from his wife. An heir and no trouble. Some say that the marriage contract spells out specificconsequences,”—Rosie’s green eyes were very wide—“for any violation of his rules.”
“Consequences?” Violet said in puzzled tones. “Does he plan to send her to bed without supper? Take away her riding privileges?”
“I have no idea. They don’t tell the really good details to girls,” Rosie said with a sigh.
Emma scowled. “And what about him? Is he proposing to be a model of husbandly propriety in return?”
“TheDevil Duke?” Rosie rolled her eyes. “I think not. He’s notorious for his paramours.”
Emma shook her head. “Why wouldanywoman in her right mind accept such terms?”
To her, marriage ought to be a meeting of equals. A coming together of minds and hearts. She’d seen the strength of the bond between her parents and between Ambrose and Marianne. Although she’d never known such a connection with a man, she’d settle for no less if she ever married.
“Um, jewels? Untold wealth and privilege?” Rosie’s moon-bright tresses rippled over her shoulders as she shrugged. “Prior to the Osgood scandal, ladies were lining up in droves.”
“At least the duke is frank about his expectations.” Thea, bless her heart, always thought the best of everyone. “One cannot fault a man for being honest.”
“Only for being amurderer,” Vi said with a snort.
“If the duke is a dangerous man and you’ve crossed him,” Polly said anxiously, “do you have anything to worry about, Emma?”
Emma gave her youngest sister a reassuring smile. “There’s no need to fret, dearest. I’ve already given my testimony, and the matter is in the hands of the magistrates now. In all likelihood, Strathaven and I will never cross paths again.”
Quelling a sudden shiver, she prayed she was right.
Chapter Six
“We’ve been through this before,” Alaric said coldly.
On the other side of his desk, the pair of magistrates shifted in their seats.
“Yes, your grace.” The one on the right was named Dixon, and he was plump and prone to sweat. He patted a handkerchief against his shiny pate. “In light of new information, however, we’d like to ask you a few more questions, if we may.”
New information—supplied by Emma Kent, no doubt.
A muscle ticked in Alaric’s jaw. The blasted chit had wasted no time in making good on her threat. Thanks to her testimony, the magistrates’ office was now interrogatinghiminstead of investigating Silas Webb or other possible suspects. Before the authorities had merely been incompetent; now they were actively wasting his time.
Alaric’s temples throbbed, anger and frustration battering at his self-control. It didn’t help matters that he’d slept poorly for the past three nights. Images of Clara, unmoving upon the carpet, made him toss and turn. That he could understand; he wouldn’t rest until he saw justice done for her.
What he couldn’t comprehend wasEmma Kentshowing up in his dreams as well. He’d woken up sweating, his fists clenching the bedclothes. His heart pounded with fury while his erect cock tented the sheets. In the crazed twilight, he hadn’t known what he yearned for more: to wring her neck or fuck her senseless.
