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Chapter Eight
They arrived at The Castle late in the afternoon. The consequences of her confession or rather her deceit, were felt keenly by Emily. While Deo was polite, there was a constraint between them. Their companionable peace was destroyed, replaced by an awkward silence, broken only by necessary conversation. It was making Emily feel miserable, and Deo didn’t look happy either. In fact, he exuded thundercloud more strongly than an incipient storm. Surprisingly though, he didn’t snap or raise his voice. She almost wished he would. It might clear the air and break the tension.
As a consequence of this, by the time they arrived at The Castle, her confidence was very low. She found herself wishing the ground would open and swallow her up, rather than having to face the Duke and Duchess of Troubridge.
In desperation, as the carriage entered the grounds of the estate, Emily reached out to touch his arm. “Deo?”
He looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow.
“Please,” she said. “I cannot bear to face them with you so angry with me. They will sense it, and I’ll die of embarrassment.”
“I’m not angry—” he protested.
“Yes, you are, I can feel it!” she interrupted him.
He took a breath and huffed it out. “Very well. But I cannot just wave a magic wand and not be angry.”
“No, but you could yell at me, and you might feel better?” she said, peeking at him.
He glared at her for a moment and then surprisingly, he laughed.
“Is that what I do? You said something like that the other night.”
“Yes, you do,” she said with a tentative smile.
He took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry. I’m like a bear with a sore head.” He shook it as if to shake off his mood. “But you don’t have to worry about the duke and duchess. They are very nice people.”
She shuddered. “The duke is terrifying. I’ve met him!”
“Oh, that’s just his starchy public face. He’s not like that at home, I assure you. And Sarah is a vicar’s daughter, the eldest of eight. She is very warm and friendly.”
“Oh, well, if you will not glare at me too much, I should be able to manage, I suppose. I’m not good at social situations.”
“Neither am I, but this is different. You’ll be among friends. My friends. They will welcome you simply because you’re my wife.”
She nodded, and he surprised her by raising her hand to his lips and kissing it, then he gave it a reassuring squeeze. It was comforting, as she was sure it was meant to be.
“We’re here,” he said as the carriage rolled to a stop before the very imposing front entrance of a sprawling three-story mansion. Opening the door, he let Kes jump out and then followed, turning to help her down, which he did by lifting her. He did this so effortlessly, he made her feel like thistledown. The whole sensation made her heart flutter and gave her gooseflesh—the good kind. He was so big and handsome, her husband. Her eyes ran up his length, and she breathed in his scent. His masculinity was overwhelming sometimes—that chest, those arms.
Last night, she’d flung herself against him and cried all over him. And he’d hugged her, held her, and begged her not to cry. No one had ever done that before. She swallowed a swell of emotion as he set her on her feet, and he turned her toward the entrance, which was suddenly full of people.
She recognized the duke, and she thought the other rather carelessly dressed gentleman looked vaguely familiar, too, but she couldn’t be sure. The rest was a blur of ladies and three children who, with loud squeals, descended the steps at a run, heading straight for Kester, who wagged his tail at this greeting and capered about barking madly. Pandemonium reigned for a few moments until Deo got Kes to settle down and the rumpled man who wasn’t the duke managed to subdue the children somewhat.
Deo greeted the man with a hug. “Emrys!” He smiled. “I took your advice,” he murmured obscurely. Then he said, “Meet my wife, Emily. Em, this is Emrys, Viscount Ashford. He was at Cambridge with the rest of us.”
Emily curtsied and murmured something that she hoped was appropriate, while the man, who had very kind eyes, twinkled at her. “My pleasure, Lady Pendrell.”
“Hey, precedence!” protested the duke, stepping forward. “Why does he get the first introduction?”
Deo laughed, clapping the duke on the back. “Your Grace, I would like to introduce my wife, Emily Frances, Countess of Pendrell. But Em tells me you’ve met?” There was a faint challenge in that tone, and Emily’s heart turned over.
The duke, ever the polished gentleman, took her hand. “Indeed, we have. When we last met, you were Miss Grenfell, so this is a happy change in your circumstances. Welcome to The Castle, my dear. Let me introduce my wife, Sarah,” he said, sweeping a tall, brown-haired young woman forward.
“I’m delighted to meet you!” The duchess enveloped Emily in a hug. “Come and meet everyone else.” She swept Emily up the steps, making introductions as she went. “This is Annis, Lady Ashford. And the children are Elizabeth, Charlotte, and Ewen. As you might have guessed from his peace-keeping duties, they belong to Emrys. Now do come in and put off your cloak. You must be thirsty and hungry, yes?”
They entered the house with Kester and the children, rounded up by Deo and the viscount, and the duke bringing up the rear with instructions to the butler to take care of their luggage. Tea was served in the drawing room on the first floor, and a very elegant apartment it was, too. Emily found herself seated next to Deo on one of the couches as the duchess served and handed round cups of tea, biscuits, cakes, and sandwiches.
“We’re expecting Kenrick any moment too, with a friend, so we will have quite a house party.”
