Just One Kiss (4 page)

While the word was familiar, the tone itself was unreadable
--
not warm, not angry, not nervous, but hollow.  It was as if the moniker had lost its meaning.

He felt an odd surge of tenderness, but he quickly stomped it down.  He was here only out of necessity.  He reminded himself of that.  Resolve strengthened, Edward answered sternly.  “Lady Coventry. I see you are looking well.”

She turned slowly, a quizzical half-smile perched on her full, lush lips.  He
realize
d at once that his compliment had been an understatement.  She did not look well.  She looked ravishing.

“As do you,
Lord Coventry
,” she replied, placing an annoyed emphasis on his title, subtly rebuking him for his aloof manner.

They stared at each other for a moment.

Finally, Daphne broke the silence. “What brings you to town?”

Yes, that was the Daphne he remembered, Edward thought, a frown furrowing his brow.  Never one to linger on pleasantries or to practice self-restraint, she jumped right to the obvious question, but he was not yet ready to rep
ly.

“Business,” he murmured dismissively.

“Business that you have with me?” Daphne asked softly.
Edward recognized, too late, that he never should have warned her that he had something particular to discuss.  They would have arrived at the discussion eventually.  As it was, she eyed him nervously.

“Yes,” he said coldly, and that was all he intended to say for the moment.  Edward sank into a chair without being invited. “I suppose this house is stocked with tea.”

“Of course,” Daphne said, springing back into action. She rang a bell and a maid appeared.  “Tea please,” she murmured, and then sank down into one of the seats.  “Well, my lord,” she said in an overly polite tone. “I understand you’ve been abroad.”

“Yes.”

“You travelled to Africa, I understand?” Daphne continued in a slightly more strained tone.  “And the Continent, I believe?”

“Yes.”

“And the Americas?”

“Yes.”

Daphne sighed in agitated annoyance and turned away.  “If you don’t desire my presence, I’d be happy to retire to my room.  If you wish for me to remain, however, you must at least try to carry on the conversation.  Surely that’s not so hard a thing to do?  Whatever else we may be, we are also old friends and-”

“Friends?” Edward snapped.  He surged out of the chair and paced toward the window.  He looked almost wistfully at a carriage driving past, wishing that he could escape again.  “I am not your friend,” he said in a low, dangerous tone.

“What are you then?”

Edward had to admire her grit. She sounded chastened but not cowed.  He leaned forward against the window while he composed a reply.  “Your
husband
, Daphne
--
just as you designed.”  He listened for her to say something. When she didn’t, he kept going, riding a sudden burst of courage.  “Which is why I am in town.  As you know, I had not expected to gain a title.  I am Lord Coventry now, and with that office come certain responsibilities.  I must oversee the estates, perform my duties to the government, and to my family as well.”

“Family?” This time it was Daphne whose voice sounded bitter. “You don’t have a family.”

“Precisely,” Edward said, turning to face her at last. “That’s why I’m in London.  I need to have a son.”

Daphne was certain that she must have misheard.  She started wordlessly at Edward, until he said as if to clarify, as if she was a simpleton who needed it to be spelled out to her a little plainer, ”An heir.”

“With
me
?” Daphne choked.  “You
--
you go off and leave me for
six years
and then you waltz back into my life and expect-!”

She stopped dead in the middle of her little tirade when she caught a glance at Edward’s face.  His expression was black. There was a muscle twitching in his clenched jaw, and his eyes, eyes which had once struck Daphne as warm and gentle, looked positively lethal.

“Yes,” he said, his voice cold and clipped.  “I
do
expect that from you, Daphne.  You are my wife, after all.  I think it’s the least that you can do, don’t you?” he sneered.

Daphne drew a sharp breath and tried to
harden
herself against these vicious barbs.  Had she really loved this man?  How had she been so misled as to his true character?  Or… maybe it was just her who brought out this side of Edward?

And he did have a point, even if Daphne was loath to admit it, as his wife, she did have a duty to provide him with a suitable male heir.  She was a little afraid, and rather appalled by the way that Edward had thundered back into her world and made his blunt demands, but she could not deny that she was also, just a tiny bit, curious.

Perhaps fortunately, before either of them could speak again, a maid arrived with the tea tray.  The girl cast Lord Coventry a curious glance as she set things down and asked if there was anything else she could do.  Daphne dismissed the servant quickly, although she didn’t quite understand why, and began to pour out two cups of tea.

“I take mine-”

“White with sugar,” Daphne supplied instantly.  The look that blossomed on Edward’s face might have been comical if the circumstances weren’t so dire.

“How did you-” he began, as Daphne handed him a dainty cup and saucer.

“As you said, I’m your wife,
I
understand my duties,” she said crisply, which was a mistake she knew, but one that she simply couldn’t resist making; as expected, Edward’s eyes flashed in her direction.  They really had grown so intense
--
stormy and dangerous where they had once been sunny.  It was enough to make Daphne fumble with the sugar tongs.

“Meaning that I do not, my lady?” Edward snarled.

“I would have thought that the answer to that was obvious, my lord,” Daphne simpered airily.

“Damn it, Daphne,” Edward growled.  His wife caught her breath at the un-gentlemanly language.  Something in Edward’s fierce demeanour seemed to slip.  The anger turned to pain.  “If I hadn’t left you I’m afraid to think wh
at I might have
done,” he rasped, which sent a shiver trembling down Daphne’s spine.  “Don’t forget that it was you who wanted this marriage.”

“As if I ever could forget that,” Daphne whispered bleakly.

Edward opened his mouth, to say what, Daphne would never know, for there was a sharp rap on the door and the butler reappeared.  The small, disapproving glance that the older man shot in Edward’s direction did not go unnoticed by Daphne, who found it a trifle comforting.

“My lady, Mrs. Butterworth is here to see you.”

“Oh-” Daphne squeaked, she actually heard he
rself squeak.  Two dots of color
flushed her perfect porcelain skin as Edward stared suspiciously in her direction.

“Should I tell Mrs. Butterworth that you are unavailable to receive visitors at present, my lady?”

“No!” Daphne gasped, in a manner that was hardly befitting of a lady, but if she sent Mrs. Butterworth
--
the biggest busybody known to the
ton
--
away without a valid excuse… she could only
imagine
the stories that the other lady would concoct.  Of course, if she c
ame up and saw Edward… the colo
r drained out of Daphne’s face… but it couldn’t be avoided.  “Show her up, Wilkins,” she croaked. 

Daphne became aware of Edward’s disapproving glare only after the butler left the room.  He
didn’t have time to say anything. S
ooner
tha
n
Daphne thought possible the
sound
of footsteps could be heard in the passage outside.  The door swung open and Wilkins presented a middle-aged lady, with quick black eyes and a choker of obscenely large pearls about her neck.

“Daphne my dear, now then, I’ve come to take you to task-!” Mrs. Butterworth stopped dead when her gaze alighted on Edward.  Her beady eyes nearly popped out of her head at the sight of the gentleman.  Daphne could practically
hear
the other woman’s mind turning over.  What would she suppose him?  A friend, a lover, a-?

Edward had risen to his feet, and Daphne found herself staring almost as hard as Mrs. Butterworth.  Had Edward always been so tall?  He had to stand at over six feet, and yet, his height alone wasn’t quite what was so striking.  It was the breadth of his shoulders, the width of his chest that made his physical presence so imposing.  Perhaps she had been too shocked by his mere arrival in her house to notice it before?  Maybe it was from his years in the army, but there was a very real power to his body that was lacking from the typical gentlemen of the
ton
.

Suddenly aware that the silence had dragged on for too long, Daphne spoke quickly, pleased to hear that her voice was crisp and cool.

“Mrs. Butterworth, may I introduce the Earl of Coventry, my husband.”

Daphne had never known Mrs. Butterworth
to be
lost for words before, and so she thought that she might savour the next few moments for a very long time indeed.  The sting of every slur that she’d had to endure at one of the
Butterworth’s
tedious balls lessened a fraction at the look of downright stunned amazement on the woman’s face.

“Oh my- is it really?” she managed to stammer eventually.

“Edward, this is Mrs. Mary Butterworth,” Daphne informed her husband quietly. 

“It’s always a delight to meet any friend of my wife, Mrs. Butterworth,” Edward said smoothly.

Daphne felt her spine stiffen.  Had he done that on purpose?  But no, Edward couldn’t know the embarrassment that she’d suffered at the hands of Mrs. Butterworth over the years.  If anything could be said in the other lady’s
defense
, it was that she was not deliberately cruel; unlike some, she was just a gossip, and because of that, coupled with her almost incomprehensible insensitivity, she had been the bane of Daphne’s life for years after Edward’s disappearance.

“We’d all but given up hope of your return, Lord Coventry,” Mrs. Butterworth gushed, looking like a child at Christmas.  “I can’t imagine what the
ton
will say when they hear that you’ve actually come back to England!  Six years you’ve been away, isn’t it?  I heard you joined His Majesty’s Dragoons.  I was so sorry to learn about your brother’s unfortunate death.  Have you been back to Packwood House yet?  What
does
bring you back to London?”

If Edward thought it odd that Mrs. Butterworth, a woman he had never met until that very minute, was acquainted with all the finer details of his life and seemed intent on shooting the facts at him like bullets from a firing squad, then nothing in the bland set of his face betrayed what he was feeling.  However, nor did he seem terribly keen to answer any of the queries thrown at him.  When Mrs. Butterworth ran out of questions (or more probably, out of breath) Daphne was required to fill the silence.

“Lord Coventry and I were just sitting down to tea, Mrs. Butterworth.  Won’t you join us?”

Mrs. Butterworth declared that she would love nothing better, and sat herself down as Daphne fixed her a cup.

“Well now, Daphne, I hope this means that you’ve changed you
r
mind about attending my ball this Friday?”

Daphne took a long sip of tea, and tried to ignore both Mrs. Butterworth’s expectant gaze, and Edward’s coolly curious one.  She had already politely refused Mrs. Butterworth’s invitation; her brother was going to be in London for the weekend, and she had claimed that he might be arriving early…