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As he had told her, he was grateful to her for refusing his proposal–very grateful, in fact. They saw one another regularly, both socially in London, since they moved in the same circles, and more privately at Denham, for Amber had not only welcomed him as Robert’s rightful successor, she had always welcomed him into her family, and Drogo appreciated that.
Emerald cared only for one person and that person was herself.
Robert was lucky he had his grandparents to give him the loving secure home they did.
Since he had a duty to the dukedom to provide it with an heir, if he could find a woman who would be as good a mother to his children and as loving a wife to him as Amber was to her children and husband, then he should, if he had any sense, marry her without hesitation, Drogo acknowledged.
The trouble was, though, that thanks to his own stupidity in not recognising the danger signs he had allowed himself to be manoeuvred into a situation where it was becoming increasingly obvious that he was expected to propose to Gwendolyn or look like a total heel. Even now he wasn’t entirely sure how what he had intended merely as a kindness to Gwen, because he felt sorry for her, had come to be regarded by virtually everyone he knew, including Gwen herself, as the forerunner to a proposal of marriage.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Robert’s private London boys’ school prepared most of its pupils for Eton, and it amused Emerald to see the looks of outrage on the faces of the other ‘mummies’ as she stalked past them in her newly fashionable miniskirt, all long legs and long straight hair.
Since she had met Max, Emerald had begun to feel as though she was two very different people: the outer Emerald and the inner Emerald. To the outer Emerald it was all-important that other people admired and envied her; that she had the best of everything, leaving other women awed and envious, and knowing that they could never match her–in anything.
The inner Emerald was different. She was wild and reckless, a hedonist and a sensualist who would go to any lengths to satisfy those desires.
The outer Emerald could only be seen in public with the right kind of man at the right kind of places, and had an image and a position to maintain.
The only position the inner Emerald wanted to maintain was one that had Max deep inside her, fucking her until she cried out as she came.
The inner Emerald was her secret and one she intended to keep. She was a temporary aberration who would disappear as quickly as she had appeared. She had to. Emerald might enjoy the frisson of excitement she got from living dangerously on the edge, but afterwards there was always that voice inside her head to be answered. A voice that accused her shrilly of being like her real father, the plebeian painter who had seduced her mother, a common nobody of a man, driven by his sexual desires. That voice was a voice Emerald wanted to blot out. She wasn’t like that. She was what she had grown up believing herself to be, what she had been brought up to be, and that was the daughter of a duke, an aristocrat beyond the rules that bound lesser people, rather than a nobody who was quite simply beneath those rules.
Emerald despised people who gave in to fear, people who were weak and vulnerable. She would never ever allow those unbearable truths revealed to her by Alessandro’s mother to instil fear in her. She would fight with every ounce of her strength and determination to continue to be accepted as Lady Emerald Devenish. No one would ever be allowed to take that from her. Nothing was more important to her than that. Not even her desire for Max.
Emerald smiled to herself. She had perfected a small depreciating shrug and a ruefully dismissive laugh as she explained to those who might not know that she was in fact not merely the daughter of a duke, but also by marriage a princess–‘although I never use the title. European titles always seem so amusingly vulgar and overdone.’
Sometimes she was tempted to use it, if only to infuriate Alessandro’s mother and remind both her and the girl Alessandro had later married that whilst their marriage remained childless, she had Alessandro’s son. Which reminded her, she must get Bailey to give her some copies of the photographs he had taken of her and Robert for the Vogue shoot so that she could send them to Alessandro’s mother, with a thoughtful little note saying that she wouldn’t want her to miss the chance to see how well Robert was growing up.
Thank goodness the school holidays were about to start and she could hand Robert over to her mother for most of the summer. Did it ever occur to her mother that, despite all the love she had lavished on others, Emerald was the only one who had provided her with a grandchild? She looked at her watch. She wanted to get home just in case Max had rung. She was supposed to be attending a dinner party tonight, but if he hadn’t rung then she might cancel and go instead to the Ad Lib Club, which was so popular with everyone who was anyone, she decided, as she made her way towards where her mother was standing, only to discover that Drogo had got there before her and that Robert had attached himself to him. It really was ridiculous the way her son positively doted on the dreadful drover, and all her mother’s fault for encouraging the situation.
‘Robert should have won that race. I wish you wouldn’t encourage him to be such a softie, Mummy,’ Emerald complained to Amber. ‘Mind you, Eton should put an end to that.’
‘Eton? Emerald, he’s only seven, still a little boy. He won’t be going to Eton for years yet.’
‘More’s the pity.’ Emerald glanced at her watch again. ‘Mummy, I’m going to have to fly. I’m going out this evening.’
‘With Max Preston?’
‘Who told you about Max? Oh, the drover, I suppose.’
‘Actually Beth mentioned him. She thought I ought to know. Gwendolyn had told her. I don’t want to interfere, Emerald, but he does have a rather unsavoury reputation.’
The discomfort in her mother’s voice made Emerald’s face harden.
‘Not worrying that I might follow your example, are you, Mummy? Surely I’ve already proved that I won’t. After all, the man who fathered my son was a prince and I was married to him. Whatever I might choose to do with Max has nothing to do with anything other than the fact that at the moment I happen to find him amusing. It’s the fashion you see, Mummy.’
‘He’s a gangster, Emerald, with a reputation for cruelty and violence, especially sexual violence towards women.’
The shock of her mother being so unexpectedly well informed and outspoken held Emerald silent for a few seconds before she came back coolly.
‘Really, Mummy, you should be careful about reading the gutter press. Only a certain class of person does, you know. It’s perfectly acceptable these days to have grown up in the East End. Max knows that I have standards that I expect to be met and that he has to treat me properly. I make sure of that.’
‘I’m only warning you to be careful, Emerald. After all—’
‘After all what? Yo u don’t want me to forget that you let some gutter trash of an artist father me? Don’t worry, Mummy, I won’t ever forget it.’ Anger burned in Emerald’s gaze. ‘Max is just a small amusement, an adventure…’
