Guilty Series (21 page)

“No. I believe it is safe to say you have changed your opinion of me. How soon before it changes again? How soon before your ‘temporary madness,' as you put it, fades away, and I become a stick insect again?”

“I do not think of you that way!” he shouted. “Can a man not change his opinion? I have changed mine. When I look at you, I do not see a stick insect. I see—”

“You do not need to soothe my pride, your grace,” she interrupted, unable to bear hearing compliments now. “It is not necessary. My heart was not broken by hearing your opinion of me. My pride was bruised, and that is all. I was not in love, I was infatuated, and I recovered from the experience.”

“Damnation, Daphne, stop interrupting! I appreciate the wrong I have done you—in more ways than one, it seems—but that does not alter my obligation. We will be married as soon as the arrangements can be made, for I will not compound my wrong by abandoning my honor and my duty.”

Daphne did not reply at once. She picked up the two halves of her apron and fastened them together at the neck, then slipped the garment over her head and began to fasten the ties. It was only after she had knotted the last one that she spoke.

“Once again, you seem to believe that this is all about you. Your duty, your good name, your heirs, your estate, your obligations, your feeling that what happened between us should be regarded as something sordid. Until we get married, of course, at which point,
your
honor will be satisfied. Most of all, this is about your sense of guilt.”

She saw him flinch. Drawing a deep breath, she went on, “Unlike you, I do not feel guilty at all. I do not feel ruined. In fact, I was feeling quite delightful until you began talking of duty and shame ruined it all. I knew what I wanted, and I took it, as did you. You may feel that there is some dishonor in it, but your dishonor is not mine. What happened between us—”

Her voice caught for a moment. She swallowed hard, and went on, “It was a wonderful thing, truly the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me, and I will not turn it into something of which I should be ashamed. I will not marry you, because despite this mad attraction you seem to have for me now, you do not love me, nor even care for me in any sense that would result in a happy union. I will not be chained to any man in a loveless marriage by his temporary passion, nor his need to expunge his guilt.”

“Love has nothing to do with this. This is about honor and duty.”

“I will not be any man's duty.” She walked over to her cloak, which lay draped over the cap of a Corinthian column. “I thank you for your offer,
your grace, but I will not marry you. That is my final resolve. Your
duty
is now discharged.”

Throwing her cloak over her shoulders, she left the antika, too angry to say one more word.

 

Anthony stared at the door that Daphne had just slammed behind her, feeling bewildered, ill-used, and rather angry himself. What did she expect of him? Did she think him a callous brute who would ruin her, then pay her off as if she were a street-walker? That he could then abandon her as if he owed her nothing more, or that he could turn her into a courtesan? God, that wounded him, that she thought him capable of such an action.

But he had also wounded her. She had been infatuated with him, and his words must have hurt her deeply, but as he had just tried to explain, he had not known her then, not in any personal sense. He had hired her to do a job of work. He had been her employer, and he had treated her accordingly. And yes, his opinion of her as a woman then had not been flattering, but he would never have expressed it had he known her to be eavesdropping outside the door.

A stick insect
. His words, true, but the way he thought of her now was so different. Could she not see that? She was no longer the unnoticeable subservient who did everything he asked, who took every word he said as if it were gospel, and who has always hovered by to obey his every order without question.

She had changed before his eyes, and somehow, she had become in his sight a woman as alluring and desirable as any he had ever known. Even now, when the consequences of what he had done were so grave, he wanted her again. Even now, when all the things he valued most—the future of his estates, the honor of his name, and the legitimacy of a possible heir—were in jeopardy, even now, he wanted her.

Yes, she had became a passion to him, a beautiful and vibrant woman. A woman he had hurt very badly.

These were not the most romantic circumstances under which to propose, and he had probably wounded her a second time by discussing their marriage in such blunt fashion. And having the subject of his mistress come out had not helped. He hadn't even had the chance to tell her he had written to Marguerite and ended the arrangement.

He supposed it had been rather arrogant of him to assume that she would accept him, but damn it all, he
was
a duke. It was not as if he were an attorney or a land agent. Only royal dukes, princes, and kings ranked higher than he, and it was not conceited of him to take her acceptance of his offer as a matter of course, especially under these circumstances.

Anthony walked over to the table by the wall. He pulled his cloak from beneath it and put it on, then left the antika.

Sunrise was breaking over the horizon, and Anthony paused for a moment outside the antika, staring at the crimson, pink, and gold horizon. To
day was Epiphany.
Somehow that seems appropriate,
he thought wryly, as he began walking back to the house.

Marrying Daphne was simply the right and honorable thing to do, and he was going to have to figure out a way that would persuade her to accept. He had the feeling it was not going to be easy.

D
aphne had departed from Tremore Hall less than twenty minutes after she had left Anthony in the antika. He did not attempt to see her before she left, deciding it would be best to wait a fortnight before following her to Chiswick so that both of them could think over the situation in a calm and prudent fashion. For his part, he knew that he had not been particularly romantic in his proposal. In persuading Daphne to accept him, he would have to find a way to remedy that. Getting her alone would be an easy matter at Enderby, but when he arrived there, his sister turned his plans upside down.

He found Viola in the midst of packing to leave, surrounded by opened trunks scattered about the
floor of her boudoir, with maids scurrying about her in a frenzy of activity, filling the trunks with gowns.

“Left?” he demanded of his sister. “What do you mean, she left?”

Viola shook her head but not at him. “No, no, Celeste, not the green silk, the green wool.” She turned her attention to Anthony and gestured to a nearby chair of her sitting room. “Dear Daphne has gone on to London. Lady Fitzhugh was kind enough to offer to act as her chaperone under the circumstances.”

Anthony frowned as he sat on the edge of a brocade chair, oblivious to the pile of gowns he crushed. “What circumstances?” He glanced around him. “Are you not packing for town?”

“I am going to Northumberland. Hammond has been in some sort of accident, and I must go to Hammond Park at once. I received an express from Dr. Chancellor last evening.”

“What sort of accident?”

“He was shot.”

“A hunting accident?”

“No.” Viola bit her lip and looked away. After a moment, she returned her attention to Anthony. Looking him in the eye, she said, “He was in a duel. Over some woman.”

“The blackguard!” Anthony slammed his fist into the padded arm of his chair. “By God, I will ruin him for this. How much more humiliation does he expect you to endure?”

His sister looked pained, and he expelled a harsh breath. Though Viola might have felt some distress
at this news, he did not. Hammond had treated Viola damn badly, and a duel over some woman was the last straw. Anthony could spare little regret for the other man's injuries. “I am sorry, Viola, but Hammond is a rakehell if ever there was one.”

“It hardly matters now, does it?” She shrugged and went on, “I was so glad to see Daphne, and we had a wonderful visit. Though she was disappointed that I cannot go to London after all, things have turned out quite well. She is going to stay with the Fitzhugh family for her season.”

If Daphne was staying in London with the Fitzhughs, his task had just become much more difficult, for he would have no opportunity to be alone with her, not to mention that his task of making her see reason would be played out before the entire ton. The gossip would escalate to a frenzy of rumor and speculation. “Damn.”

He could not help noticing his sister's surprised glance.

“You seem displeased by this news, Anthony. Why should you be? You knew she would be going to town.” She began to smile. “Been hoping to persuade her back to your clay pots and mosaics, have you?”

Anthony shot her a sharp look. “Did Miss Wade not confide in you?”

“Confide in me? I do not know what you mean. What confidences should she be imparting to me? Has something happened?”

Most women would have been eager to impart
news of a duke's proposal, especially to his sister, yet Daphne had evidently not told Viola. As guarded about his private life as a man could be, Anthony was pleased by her discretion, but Viola had to know the truth sometime, and it was far better for his sister to hear it from him than from the society papers. He told her.

“You proposed to Daphne?” A wide smile lit her face as she jumped up from her chair and came to give him a smacking kiss on each cheek. “How delightful!”

“Not so very delightful,” he replied as Viola returned to her seat. “She refused me.”

“Did she? I cannot imagine why, for she is in—” Viola paused in whatever she had been about to say, and her brown eyes narrowed on him. “You did not ask her, did you? You told her. Do not deny it,” she added as he started to speak. “I know you far too well, Anthony. You became all ducal and autocratic, and she told you to go to the devil.” Much to his chagrin, Viola began to laugh. “Oh, I knew I liked that woman.”

“I am gratified that you are enjoying this, but are you not supposed to be on my side?”

“No,” she answered at once, her smile widening. “I am wholly on Daphne's. We women must band together in situations such as this.” Before Anthony could reply, she went on, “But one thing does puzzle me. If she refused you, why are you here?”

He found Viola's amusement at his expense quite irritating. “If you think I am accepting no for an
answer, you do not know me as well as you thought, dear sister.”

“Quite right of you, I say, but Daphne has the right to expect to be courted, you know. You cannot just order her to marry you. A wedding is not like an excavation. Oh, how I wish I could stay and watch all of this play out.”

“Yes, I am sure you do,” he answered, unamused, “but the society papers will be able to provide you with the details, no doubt. By the way, there is something I need to ask you. Did Daphne ever tell you the name of her grandfather? I shall have to locate this baron and discuss settlements with him.”

“Lord Durand. Estates in Durham, I believe, but I did discover that he is in town. I suggested that Daphne and I pay a call on him, but she did not wish to do so. She explained to me that Durand actually refused to acknowledge her. She wrote to him after her father's death, and he had an attorney respond that she was not his granddaughter and never would be. Her parents eloped, and evidently, Durand never accepted the match. Can you believe it? I almost wept when she told me. There she was in Tangier or wherever, all alone with no money, and the horrid man wrote to her that she could expect no help from him.”

Anthony rose to his feet, rage flowing through his body like a flood, but when he spoke, his voice was hard, tight, and fully controlled. “Somehow,” he told Viola, “I believe Durand will be much more
amenable to acknowledging his connection after a visit from me.”

“Yes,” Viola said, looking at him with obvious pleasure. “I expect he will. But Anthony,” she added gently, “I do not believe Durand is your problem. You still have to persuade Daphne to accept your suit.”

That was not going to be a problem at all, Anthony vowed as he left Enderby for London. By God, Daphne would be his duchess, even if he had to court her under the unwavering scrutiny of all London society.

 

“Heavens above!”

The exclamation caused Daphne to pause in her sketch of Elizabeth and Anne, who were seated on the settee opposite her in the drawing room of the Fitchughs' London house. She turned to look at Lady Fitzhugh, who was sitting in the chair beside her own, staring at the card the maid had just handed to her. Her other hand fluttered to her heart as she leaned back on the settee. “The Duke of Tremore has come to call.”

“What?” her daughters cried together.

“Well, that did not take long,” Daphne murmured under her breath.

“This must be due to you, Daphne!” cried Elizabeth. “All our lives we have lived in Hampshire, yet the duke has never come to wait upon us.”

“Indeed,” her mother added, tapping the card against the fingertips of her other hand, “I have
scarce conversed with his grace half a dozen times in the seventeen years since he ascended to the title, and we have never received such condescension as this.” She tucked the card into the side pocket of her gown and straightened in her chair. “Show him in at once, Mary. It does not do to keep a duke waiting.”

As the maid left the room, Daphne could not help but notice how Lady Fitzhugh and her daughters began to pat their hair and straighten their gowns in anticipation of the unexpected guest. Daphne did nothing of the sort, and she almost wished she had raked back her hair in that efficient, tight little bun he despised. When she caught Elizabeth gesturing to her in a friendly reminder to take off her spectacles, she ignored the girl and left them on.

When he entered the room, she rose and dipped him a curtsy along with the others, then took refuge behind her sketchbook as Lady Fitzhugh introduced her daughters and invited him to sit down.

Over the top of her sketchbook, she observed the faces of Anne and Elizabeth as they stared at Anthony, who was sitting to her right. Looking at them was a bit like looking at a mirror image of herself, for their expressions seemed to offer a precise reflection of her own initial impression of him. Overwhelmed, ridiculously nervous, and caught up in the heights of a giddy attraction. He was looking every inch the handsome, elegant duke today, with his blue coat and darker blue trousers, his striped
blue and gold waistcoat, and his immaculate white linen, and it was clear by the admiring faces of the Fitzhugh daughters that they wanted to pinch themselves for even being in the same room with him.

He is no doubt accustomed to this sort of feminine reaction everywhere he goes,
she thought, lowering her gaze and noting with dismay that she had involuntarily pressed her pencil across her sheet of drawing paper in a thick, dark slash, ruining her drawing of Elizabeth.

“Ring the bell for tea, Anne,” Lady Fitzhugh ordered, but before her elder daughter could move to stand, Anthony protested.

“No, please, do not trouble yourself on my account,” he said, “for I cannot stay long. I paid a visit to my sister just before she left for Northumberland, and I learned you had brought Miss Wade to town with you. I wished to pay my respects.”

“That is very kind of you,” his hostess replied, only the tiniest hint of surprise in her voice, though the fact that the duke had wished to pay a call upon them clearly surprised her very much indeed.

“I have come to town to make my museum ready for its opening, for that event is only a few short weeks away,” he told her. “I do hope you will come?”

“Of course. We should be delighted.”

Daphne stirred in her chair, wishing he would leave, knowing he was not here to make idle
chitchat. She hoped he did not intend to make his intentions clear to Lady Fitzhugh and her daughter by asking for a private interview with her. That would be humiliating, especially for him, when she refused. But she soon discovered he was not going to be quite so blunt as that.

“I have been working at such a pace these last months,” he said, “that I have had little time for society, but now that we are nearly finished, I hope to have the opportunity to enjoy the season in London. I shall be quite free to accept invitations.”

His words were expressed with such emphasis that Daphne looked up, just in time to watch Lady Fitzhugh fall right into the trap. Before she could interrupt with something about the weather, Lady Fitzhugh said in a small voice, “Indeed, your grace? I plan to have a card party very soon, a small party of a half dozen of our friends, and far too modest for you, I am sure, but I would be delighted if you would come.”

“I would enjoy that very much,” he said with such a satisfied smile that Daphne wanted to throw her pencil at him.

Lady Fitzhugh seemed quite stunned, not only because she had been so bold as to issue a verbal invitation to a duke, but also because he had accepted. “I shall send an invitation round to you,” she murmured.

“I shall be happy to receive it.” He glanced over at Daphne, then returned his attention to his hostess. “Miss Wade has worked very hard on the sketches for my museum, and I regret that she has
had so little time for amusements herself. She deserves to enjoy herself in town.”

“We intend to help her do that, your grace,” Elizabeth assured him, laughing.

Lady Fitzhugh shot her daughter a reproving look. “We are delighted to have Miss Wade with us.”

Anthony turned his attention to Daphne. “This is your first visit to London, is it not, Miss Wade?”

“Yes,” she answered, and stopped pretending to sketch. “I am looking forward to it, having spent so little time moving in society, buried in the country for so long.”

“Ah, your words remind me of the purpose of my visit.” He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small package wrapped in plain paper and tied with brown twine. He leaned forward in his chair and held the package out to Daphne. “This is yours, I believe.”

She took it from him with a puzzled frown, noting by its shape and feel that it must be a book. “I did not realize I left a book behind me.”

“Perhaps you did not,” he replied, his oblique words puzzling her further.

She looked up and found that he was giving her that half smile that meant he was teasing. “I do not understand.”

He did not enlighten her. Instead, he turned to Elizabeth and Anne. “It is a bit early yet in the season, but I hope you young ladies plan to attend some assemblies while you are in town?”

“Oh, yes,” Anne assured him, a bit nervously.
“We shall be attending one at the Haydon Assembly Rooms three days hence, as a matter of fact.”

“I am gratified to hear it. Ladies, please forgive me, but I must go. I fear I have trespassed on your time long enough.”

“We are honored you did so, your grace,” Lady Fitzhugh answered. She stood up, and her daughters and Daphne rose as well. “Please feel free to call upon us any time. Any time at all.”

“I assure you that I shall avail myself of that pleasure as often as I can, Lady Fitzhugh,” he said as he moved to stand. “Please tell your husband he may come to see the museum any time convenient. And I look forward to receiving your invitation. Please do not forget me.”

Daphne could see all three of the other women practically melting on the floor, but she held back her frustrated sigh. So this was how he intended to get his way. By overwhelming her friends with charm, dazzling them with his condescension, and flattering them with his attentions. She realized with a sinking feeling that he was going to be nice. How awful.