Just One Kiss (5 page)

“When the
ton
hears that your husband’s
actually
returned to you everyone is going to want to meet him!” Mrs. Butterworth enthused, failing to notice the way that Daphne flinched at her poor phrasing.

“But, Mrs. Butterworth, Anthony-”

“Oh, Mr.
Hargreaves
will understand.”

“Actually, Mrs. Butterworth,” Edward began, cutting into the conversation slowly and smoothly.  Mrs. Butterworth gave a little flutter and then turned her full attention to the earl.  “I wonder if I could ask for
discretion.
” 

Mrs. Butterworth couldn’t quite stop her face from crumpling, but nor could Daphne stop a treacherous lurch of her stomach.  Edward wasn’t leaving again, was he?  He’d said
--
he’d
told
her that he wanted a son
--
surely,
oh surely,
that meant he was staying this time?

“I- I’m not certain that
I
understand what you mean, my lord?” Mrs. Butterworth said hesitantly, clearly not wanting to give up the juiciest piece of gossip that she was likely to come across for the whole season.

“I would prefer if the
ton
was not made aware
of my presence in London before I have the chance to attend to a few private family matters, Mrs. Butterworth,” Edward explained calmly.  He paused, and then added, “my wife and I would of course be
honor
ed to accept your gracious invitation, where, if it is not too much, you might do me the favour of reintroducing me to London society?”

Oh he was clever
, Daphne had to give Edward credit for that much at least.  Mrs. Butterworth was so puffed up with her own self-importance that it would be a miracle if they could fit her out of the door when she left.

“You want
me
to announce
you
at
my
ball, Lord Coventry?” Mrs. Butterworth asked breathlessly.

“Well, if it’s not too much trouble,” Edward flashed the lady a slow, friendly smile that set Daphne’s teeth on edge with a feeling that she wouldn’t even begin to contemplate as jealousy.

“Oh, no, no, no!  Of course not, my lord,” Mrs. Butterworth enthused.

Daphne closed her eyes for a moment and tried to remain composed.  She hadn’t wanted to go to the Butterworths’ ball, and she certainly didn’t think that she wanted to go with Edward.  She could just imagine the stares… the whispers… it would be a nightmare, but one thing Daphne had gotten very good at over the past six years was putting on a brave face.  If Edward wanted to go then she would go, and she would
never
let him see her falter.

“-don’t you agree, Daphne?  Lady Coventry?”

Daphne blinked.  Mrs. Butterworth was staring at her expectantly and Daphne didn’t have the slightest clue as to what she might have been saying.  This evidently affronted the older woman
to
no end, especially given that Mrs. Butterworth thought that every word that past her lips should be listened to with rapt attention by the entire
ton
.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Butterworth,” she said, as contritely as she could manage.  “My mind must have wandered.” 

If Edward were a proper gentleman he would have said something to rescue her from the embarrassment of proving herself an incompetent hostess
, Daphne thought bitterly, but no, instead of helping, he was sitting across from her with a smirk on his lips that she was itching to slap off his face.

“I was saying,” Mrs. Butterworth repeated sharply.  “That Lord Coventry will find London society has changed a good deal since he left us, don’t you think?”

Daphne was sure she didn’t know.  She had been all of
sixteen
when he
r
husband abandoned her after all.  It wasn’t as though she’d experienced so much as one season as a debutante in the city.  She decided not to draw attention to that fact, however, instead choosing
to murmur her polite agreement
and
not
let her mind drift from the conversation again.

Mrs. Butterworth stayed for another half an hour, and really seemed in no great hurry to leave. However, try as she might, she couldn’t seem to pry any information from Edward’s lips, another feat for which Daphne was forced to give her husband grudging credit, and so eventually Mrs. Butterworth seemed to admit defeat and excuse herself.

Chapter 4

A very uncomfortable silence filled the room once Mrs. Butterworth had left, and so, to give himself something to do, Edward took a sip of his tea, which he found was now stone cold.  He made a grimace of distaste, set the cup and saucer down and considered asking for something stronger.

Daphne was standing by the window again now, looking out at the night sky and deliberately (so it seemed)
ignoring
her husband.  Edward could observe her more closely like this however, and he didn’t restrain himself from doing so.  He’d been stealing glances at his wife throughout their encounter with the absurd Mrs. Butterworth. 

When he’d first seen Daphne, he had thought that little had changed, but now Edward was beginning to reconsider that initial judgment.  It wasn’t so much her body, but her air.  When he’d left England, Daphne had been a girl.  She was a woman now, and Edward felt a twinge of
something
almost painful because he had missed her transformation.

“You must be tired, my lord?”  After such a long stretch of silence Daphne’s voice sounded oddly loud and awkward.  “Have you
--
have you had to travel far?” she asked, a puzzled frown furrowing her brow. 

She bit her lip, and Edward found himself watching the nervous little gesture rather too closely. 
What would it hurt to be civil?
  Daphne was his wife. S
he would bear his sons
,
and yet, he still couldn’t let go of the past.  Not yet, and maybe not ever.

“I sailed into Dover a week ago.  I’ve been at Packwood since then,” he said curtly.

“You’ve been in Coventry?” Daphne gasped before she could help herself.  Her grey eyes grew wide with surprise.  She hadn’t heard.  No one had told her.

“Packwood is my home,” Edward said carefully, a little surprised when he felt just how true those words felt.  He had missed the old country estate more than he would ever have imagined in his self-imposed exile
--
had missed the rolling hills, the lush countryside, and the winding streams.  A frown suddenly crossed his face.  “The housekeeper told me you rarely ever stay there though?”

“As you said, my lord, Packwood is your house,” Daphne said quietly.  “And before, it was your brother’s so-”

“
This
was William’s house too though?” Edward interrupted thoughtfully, casting his eyes around the
parlor
with renewed interest
.  He had never been to the town house before.  William had bought it after his younger brother’s marriage
--
after he’d left the country.

Edward and his brother had never been close; their difference in age had been too great for that- Edward had looked to William at times almost as more of a father than brother.  He still missed him bitterly now that he was gone though, and cursed himself for being out of the country for the last years of William’s life.

“Well, I preferred it in London,” Daphne said coolly.  “There were less people who knew me, not that
that
luxury lasted for very long,” she finished sharply.  She scowled in his direction, but Edward returned the look without flinching.  Daphne deflated a little.  “In London there’s always a new scandal to entertain the
ton
,” she sighed.  “Not that they don’t return to their old
favorites
from time to time.”

Edward strolled over to where his wife was standing, moving so close that Daphne was forced to crane her neck if she wanted to keep looking him in the eye.  He waited for her to step back, to be intimidated by his nearness, his maleness, but she held her ground doggedly.

“I will not
apologize
to you, Lady Coventry,” Edward breathed harshly.  Daphne’s eyes narrowed, she opened her mouth, but then snapped it shut again.  She kept staring back at him though, and to his horror Edward suddenly found that it was
him
who was aware of
her
femininity. 

Had he ever noticed the perfect, plump bow of her lips before?  Had it ever occurred to him to study their shape, their exact hue?  Once.  Only once had those lips kissed his… and it was still a kiss that haunted his thoughts.  And not only because of the drama that had followed in its wake, but because he’d still never tasted its equal.  For six years he had hungered, despite all his pride and reason, to resample the delights that could be bestowed by Daphne’s rosy mouth.

“Edward?” she whispered.  There was an edge of uncertainty in her voice, but also something more.  It snapped her husband to his senses.

“My room,” he barked.  “Would you be so good as to show me to it?”

Daphne blinked quickly, her thick, long lashes fluttered over her misty grey eyes, and then she finally did move away from him.  “I- yes of course,” she said, running a hand over her brow.  She looked a little tired, pale, Edward noted, stamping down the flicker of concern that stirred within him.  “How long will you be staying?” she asked uncertainly, leading him out of the
parlor
.

“Daphne,” Edward said sharply.  He reached for her without thinking, catching her hold by the arm, unprepared for the way that she started, or for the way that the heat of her skin seeped through her dress and burned his fingers.  “I’m back for good, so you’re going to have to get used to that fact,” he said, more roughly than he’d intended.

To Edward’s surprise his wife nodded her head quickly.  She looked almost… relieved?  But relief couldn’t possibly be the curious emotion that was flicke
ring in the depths of her eyes, could it?  Yes,
she had been the one who had wanted this marriage, but Edward knew perfectly well that he was no one’s idea of a perfect husband.  Whatever delusional dreams Daphne might have had, surely he had well and truly shattered them?

“Edward?  Are you all right?” Daphne queried.  She stared up at him, her brow knotting with
--
with
concern
.

“Just tired,” he sighed, letting her lead him out of the
parlor
as she nodded her head, apparently accepting his excuse.  He wasn’t tired.  He was
confused
.  He’d had such foolish black and white notions.  He hadn’t wanted to account for the fact that he’d changed, and he hadn’t even thought to account for the fact that Daphne might have altered.

“You’ve had your things sent on?” she asked quietly, moving towards the family bedrooms. 

Edward followed, casting his eyes around the house.  “I brought some things with me. I trust my man has seen to bringing them in; anything else that I need I can send for later,” he replied.  “I thought we might travel back to Packwood soon though.  So I shan’t bother with too much.”

“Oh?” Daphne started.  She glanced over her shoulder at Edward and slowed down considerably.  He’d been looking at a portrait on the wall, and almost walked into his wife.  “Go back to Coventry?” she pressed.

“Well, that is where Packwood is, Daphne,” he answered dryly.  Daphne flushed and muttered something that Edward didn’t catch, and then she started to walk again.  “I thought you’d like to be back living closer to your family?” he added.  He hadn’t actually.  He just didn’t know whether or not he could abide a whole season in London.  But he was suddenly curious to uncover Daphne’s sudden aversion to their home county.

“Oh,” Daphne stammered once again.  “I
--
yes
--
that would be
--
” she flayed weakly, “-nice.”