His brown eyes were bloodshot and the swelling beneath them would sag with age, creating pouches. One day he would bear a striking resemblance to the hounds at Chavensworth.For now, however, he was society’s version of handsome, with his blond hair cut short, and attired in an immaculate gray suit with silver links on the cuffs of his snowy white shirt. He appeared a prosperous bridegroom on the occasion of his wedding, and if he smelled too much of whiskey, she could only surmise it was because of his Scot’s heritage and the fact he was celebrating his marriage to an heiress.Emma wished she was as thrilled to be marrying him as he was to be marrying her.She couldn’t help but recall her father’s words, spoken on the occasion of her wedding to Anthony. “Your mother and I did not know each other well when we married, my dearest Emma, but we went on to fall in love with each other. There is not one day I do not deeply miss her.”Her wedding to the Duke of Herridge had been a spectacular ceremony, costing thousands of pounds, effectively announcing to the world that Emma Harding had become a duchess.
