The Handmaiden's Necklace (29 page)

But just then Wooster appeared, announcing the duchess’s arrival, and Rafael came to his feet.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your day,” Danielle said, walking briskly into the room. “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you.”

“Not in the least,” Rafe said. Behind them, Wooster busied himself closing the tall sliding doors, making them private, and Rafe used the moment to study his wife’s drawn features. Her skin looked pale and faint smudges appeared beneath her eyes, increasing the worry he felt.

“Would you like me to get us some tea?” his mother asked, but Danielle just shook her head.

“This won’t take long. I have something of importance to say and I wanted to say it to both of you.”

Rafe flicked his mother a glance. She had begun to look
as worried as he. “We’re listening,” he said, and seated himself once more.

Dani’s gaze traveled to the woman on the sofa, then returned to Rafe. “I asked your mother to join us because I thought that if I couldn’t make you understand, then perhaps she would be able to convince you.”

Something moved inside him, something that shouted a warning. His heartbeat quickened, began a dull pounding in his chest.

Danielle fixed her attention on his mother. “There is something you must know, Your Grace, something I didn’t tell Rafael until it was too late.”

And suddenly he knew. “No,” he said as he shot to his feet. “No!”

Danielle ignored him. “There was an accident during the years Rafael and I were apart. A riding accident. I was injured. Somehow my insides were damaged in such a way that I can never have a child. I am barren, Your Grace.”

“Stop it!” Rafe’s heart was hammering now, threatening to pound its way through his chest. He strode toward his wife, caught hold of her shoulders. “This is our business—ours, ours and no other’s!”

She didn’t look at him, just started talking again. Beneath his hands he could feel her trembling. “I took advantage of him, Your Grace. I should have told him the truth, but I didn’t. At the time, I suppose I wasn’t thinking clearly, or I didn’t…didn’t realize how badly your family needed an heir.”

He shook her. He couldn’t let her go on, couldn’t let her humble herself this way. “I forbid you to continue this, Danielle. You’re my wife. My mother has no place in this discussion.”

She turned to him and he caught the sheen of tears. He could see how much this cost her, see the pain in her eyes, and felt a surge of emotion so raw, so powerful for a moment he couldn’t speak.

“She has a right to know the truth,” Dani said softly. “A right to know that as long as I am married to you, her future is in jeopardy.” She turned back to the dowager duchess. “There is only one way to solve the problem. Rafael must marry a woman who can bear him a child. To do that he must divorce me.”

Terror gripped him like a fist around his heart. It spurred him to an even greater anger. “That is insane! There will be no divorce in this family! We are married. In the eyes of the law and those of God Almighty. That is
not
going to change.”

The tears in her eyes slipped down her cheeks. “You must do this, Rafael. You have a duty—”

“No! My first duty is to you, Danielle, to you and no other.” He hauled her into his arms and she trembled even harder. “I lost you once,” he said against her hair. “I won’t lose you again.”

Her soft sob cut straight through him. His chest was squeezing, his heart aching. She drew away and turned to look at his mother. She sat there on the sofa, as pale as Rafe had ever seen her, and her light blue eyes slowly filled with tears.

“Make him understand…” Dani pleaded. “Make him see there is no other way.”

His mother said nothing, just sat there staring at Danielle as if she were a creature his mother had never seen.

Rafe caught Dani’s shoulders. “My mother has no say in this. I’m your husband and I am not divorcing you—not now or ever!”

Danielle looked up at him. She blinked and the tears in her eyes rolled down her cheeks. “Then I am divorcing you, Rafael.”

Jerking free of his hold, she started running, racing out the wide double doors and down the hall.

“Danielle!” Rafe bolted after her.

“Rafael!” The sharpness in his mother’s voice stopped him.

Rafe turned toward her. “Do not waste your breath, Mother. Nothing that has happened is Danielle’s fault—it is mine.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out the way you planned. But I love her and I’m not going to let her go.”

The words sprang forth from a well deep inside him and he knew the moment he said them they were true. He had tried not to love Danielle, done everything in his power to control his emotions where she was concerned, but in these past months, she had come to mean everything to him.

Everything.

Turning, he started once more for the door, striding out into the hall, heading for the stairs up to the rooms they shared on the second story.

Wooster stopped him just as he started climbing. “She is not up there, Your Grace.”

“Where is she?”

“I’m afraid the duchess has left the house.”

“What?”

“Before she went into the drawing room, she asked that her carriage be brought round. When she came out, she took her cloak and raced out the front door. That is the last I saw of her, sir.”

It was all Rafe could do not to grab the old man by the front of his shirt and shake him for letting her go. There was a murderer out there somewhere. Danielle’s life could be in danger.

But it wasn’t the butler’s fault, it was his own.

If he had told her that he loved her, made it clear to her that she was the most important thing in his life, his world, she would have understood that having his child no longer mattered. All he really cared about was her.

The coach was out of sight by the time he got to the door. Rafe turned and ran for the stables. He would find her, bring her home, tell her the way he felt. He only prayed it wasn’t too late.

Rafe had almost reached the back door when Robert McKay and Caroline Loon caught up with him.

“What the devil’s going on?” Robert asked.

“Where is Danielle?” Caro demanded. “One of the footmen said she took off in her carriage. He said she was crying. Why was she crying, Your Grace?”

Rafe’s chest squeezed. “There’s been a misunderstanding. I’ve got find her, make her understand.” He looked over at McKay. “There’s a killer out there. She may be in very grave danger.”

“I’ll go with you.” Robert clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go!”

They raced out to the stable, Caro right on their heels, both men pitching in to get their horses saddled and ready as quickly as possible.

While a pair of grooms tightened the cinches, Rafe spoke to Caro. “Do you have any idea where Danielle might be headed?”

“The only place I can think of is Wycombe Park. She has
always felt safe there, and Lady Wycombe is in residence. But for the past several days, she has been acting strangely and I cannot say for certain what she might do.”

“We’ll head for Wycombe,” Rafe said, “stop along the road and find out if anyone has seen the Duchess of Sheffield’s carriage. It bears the crest. If she has traveled the road to Wycombe, someone will have seen the coach.”

The men swung up on their flat leather saddles, Rafe on Thor, his big black stallion, Robert on a sleek bay gelding, both animals dancing, eager to be on their way.

Caro caught hold of Robert’s leg. “Be careful.” She looked over at Rafe. “Both of you.”

Robert leaned down and very swiftly kissed her. “Speak to the servants. See if you can find out where the duchess might have gone.”

Caro nodded, bobbing the thick blond curls around her face. “I’ll find out what I can.”

The men dug their heels into their horses’ ribs and the animals leapt forward. In seconds, they were pounding over the cobbles, headed for the road leading to the village of Wycombe.

The hours dragged. The horses grew weary and a bone-chilling cold set in. They stopped at every inn and way station along the road, spoke to a dozen travelers and a half-dozen wagoneers, but no one had seen the Sheffield carriage.

It was dark by the time they drew their animals to a halt in the deeply rutted road for what must have been the fifteenth time.

“She isn’t headed for Wycombe,” Rafe said tiredly. “Of that we can now be sure.”

“We need to get back to the city,” Robert said. “Perhaps by now, Caro will have discovered the duchess’s plans.”

Both men turned their horses then bent forward into the wind. It was freezing and growing colder, their coats not nearly enough protection against the icy chill.

Rafe urged the stallion forward. “I was so certain she was headed for her aunt’s.”

“Perhaps she simply rode around for a while, then decided to go back home.”

Rafe shook his head. “She was determined that we should divorce. She wouldn’t have made such a serious decision without a good deal of thought. She is bound and determined to go through with it, and unless I can convince her otherwise, that is what she will do.”

“She loves you, Rafael. Why would she want a divorce?”

Rafe sighed. “It’s a long story. Suffice it to say if I had been as honest about my feelings as you were with Caro, this likely would not have happened.”

Robert smiled. “Then there is nothing to worry about. As soon as you find her, you will tell her the way you feel and everything will be all right.”

Rafe prayed Robert was right. But he was growing more and more worried. Once her mind was made up, Danielle could be nearly as stubborn as he, and she truly believed she was doing what was best for him.

Christ, what a muddle. He just prayed that wherever she was she was safe.

T
he ransom note was waiting when Rafe arrived back at the house, weary to the bone, his clothes damp and covered with mud. Gravely, Wooster handed him the wax-sealed message, somehow sensing the note boded ill.

Standing next to Robert, Rafe popped the seal and scanned the words, certain even before he read them what they would say.

Green Park.
It was a place he knew well—the place he had dueled with Oliver Randall.

“What does it say?” McKay asked, Caro clinging fearfully to his arm.

“They’ve taken Danielle.”

“Who?”

“Oliver Randall. The note says I’m to go at midnight to the knoll in Green Park. That is the place we dueled. Randall was injured, very severely. Apparently, he is the man we’ve been seeking.” He tapped the note. “McPhee was supposed to be watching him while Yarmouth kept an eye on my cousin. Something must have gone wrong.”

Robert looked up at the grandfather clock in the entry. “You’ve got less than an hour to reach the park. We need to make some sort of plan.” Robert started toward the study, but Rafe caught his arm.

“There isn’t going to be any plan because you aren’t going with me. The note said to come alone and that is what I intend to do.”

“Don’t be a fool. The man has tried to kill you twice before and nearly succeeded. Odds are he’ll have hired men to help him, and this time he won’t fail. If you go to the park by yourself, you’re a dead man.”

“I don’t have any choice. I won’t risk Dani’s life. I appreciate your offer, but I can’t take the chance.”

“Dammit, man—”

Rafe shouted orders to a footman, telling him to have his phaeton readied and brought round to the front of the house, a vehicle to carry them home.

“I won’t go unarmed,” he told Robert. “And I’m a damned good shot.” Still, there were no guarantees. Rafe turned to Caro. “If something goes wrong, Dani will need you here when she gets home.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Tell her I love her, will you? Tell her I wish I had told her just how much. Can you do that for me?”

Caro’s blue eyes brimmed with tears. “I’ll tell her.”

He turned to McKay. “You’re a good man, Robert. If anything happens to me, I trust you to look after both of them.”

“Dammit, let me go with you. I’ll stay in the darkness out of sight. I can cover you and they’ll never know I’m there.”

Rafe just started walking. He headed down the hall to his study, went in and pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk. A small pistol lay inside. Rafe took out the gun, shoved it into the pocket of his tailcoat and headed for the door leading out to the stables.

What happened to him didn’t matter.

One way or another, the woman he loved was coming safely home.

Danielle sat rigidly in the carriage next to a bearded, foul-smelling man gripping a pistol in one of his dirty, hairy hands. Her own carriage sat abandoned on a darkened side street not more than ten blocks from Sheffield House. The driver, Michael Mullens, was bound and gagged, lying unconscious on the floor inside the coach.

Dear God, she had been a fool to leave! At the time, all she could think of was getting away from the house—away from Rafael. She was afraid that if she stayed, he would somehow convince her to abandon her plans, and in doing so, she would betray him.

She looked down at her hands, bound together in her lap. She hadn’t really believed that she was in danger. It was Rafe who had enemies, not her. It had never occurred to her that the man who wanted him dead might use her as a weapon against him.

She had overheard them talking, knew they had sent him a note, or someone had, demanding a meeting. She shivered as the carriage rumbled along. She loved him so much. She had wanted to give him the one thing he truly wanted—a son to carry on his name.

Instead, she had put him in terrible danger.

Dear God, what if she wound up getting him killed?

She dragged in a shaky breath, forced a note of calm into her voice. “Where are we going?” She stared out the isinglass window but the night was too dark to recognize anything familiar.

“Green Park,” her captor said. Another man sat across from him, two of his bottom teeth missing, a bulbous nose spread across his ugly face.

“That is the place of the meeting?”

“We’re hardly going there for a Sunday outin’, luvie.”

Green Park.
It was the place Rafe had dueled with Oliver Randall. He had told her about it once and she had seen the scar on his arm.

So Randall was the man who wanted to kill him, just as Rafe had thought.

She glanced around the carriage, surveying the dark red velvet curtains, the polished brass lamps next to the windows, far too fine a vehicle for the likes of the two disreputable-looking characters sitting on the plush velvet seats. She imagined the rig must belong to Oliver and wondered if he planned to kill her as well as Rafe.

She said nothing as the pair of matched bay horses at the front of the carriage drew the coach through the darkened streets, but her mind whirled with plans, ways of helping Rafael. She discarded one after another, deciding she would
have to wait and see how events unfolded. Whatever happened, she would not stand idly by and let these men murder her husband.

She would find a way to save him, no matter what it took.

Only a few more minutes passed before the carriage eased to a halt and the driver set the brake. He jumped down from his perch, a beefy man with thin gray hair and a hard set to his jaw.

Dani drew her cloak more tightly around her as he opened the door, and one of her captors prodded her with the barrel of his gun.

“Get out. And don’t move too fast or I’ll pull the trigger.”

She ducked her head through the doorway and climbed down the iron stairs, the bearded man close behind her. The pistol prodded her ribs and she walked toward a path leading up the hill, the second man falling in behind them. All the way to the top, her mind whirled with ways she might elude them, ways she might escape and warn Rafael. But she had no idea where he was or which way he might enter the park.

She had do doubt he would come. Rafe was a man of honor and he would come in defense of his wife, no matter what had passed between them. She had to wait until he got there, had to be ready to help him in whatever way she could.

“Up there.” The pistol poked into her ribs and she moved forward, up the hill toward the top of the knoll. An ancient sycamore spread its boughs over the brown, dormant grass, and an icy wind swept over the darkened landscape. At the base of the tree, she paused, her gaze searching the dark
ness for the man she had once thought her friend, Oliver Randall.

Instead, another man stepped out of the darkness, a well-dressed figure wearing a great coat and tall beaver hat. He was perhaps in his late thirties, a handsome man she had never seen before. A second figure stepped forward and she froze at the unexpected sight of a woman.

“Well…here we are at last.” She was dressed head to foot in black, with a fine black veil over the rim of her bonnet, which didn’t quite cover her face. She was slightly shorter than Dani, more stoutly built, and she wore the cloak of authority as well as any man.

Danielle knew the woman as the Marchioness of Caverly, Oliver Randall’s mother.

“So it was you, not your son.”

“Thanks to your husband, my son is no longer the man he was before. In his stead, I am forced to do what he is now unable to accomplish.”

“You think to kill Rafael?”

Her lips curled into an expression of disgust. “Before this night is over, I will see both of you dead.”

A chill swept down Dani’s spine. The old woman’s hatred was nearly palpable. It was clear the marchioness wouldn’t rest as long as either one of them was alive.

She glanced around the knoll, looking for something to use as a weapon, anything that might aid them, praying Rafe would not come.

Knowing with a certainty that reached deep inside her that he would.

Her heart twisted. She had only meant to spare him the lifelong pain of being childless, wed to a barren woman who
could not give him the heir he so desperately needed. Instead, she had put him in the gravest of peril.

Footsteps sounded on the path, the long, familiar strides that belonged to Rafael.

Her pulse shot up, began a vicious pounding. She glanced wildly around the knoll, but the hill was as barren as she, and she saw no means of escape.

“Go back, Rafael! It’s a trap!”

A fierce blow struck her across the cheek, sent her reeling back against the trunk of the tree.

“Shut up, ye bloody wench, or I’ll shut yer bleedin’ mouth meself.”

She lay there shaking. She dragged a calming breath into her lungs and shoved herself unsteadily to her feet. The footsteps continued, though she knew Rafe had heard her warning, and a moment later, he appeared on the knoll. For an instant, his tall frame was outlined in a ray of moonlight that slipped through the clouds before the sky closed up again, and her heart trembled with love for him.

He stood no more than five feet away, and yet it might as well have been five miles. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel the beat of his heart, the swell of his chest as he drew breath into his lungs.

“I’ve come as you asked.” His eyes left the well-dressed man and found her in the darkness. “Are you all right, my love?”

Her eyes welled with tears. “This is all my fault. I’m so terribly sorry.”

His voice firmed. “This isn’t your fault. Nothing that has ever happened has been your fault.” He returned his attention to the well-dressed man. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“His name is Phillip Goddard.” The marchioness’s voice rose out of the darkness. She stepped from behind the tree and Rafe turned to her in surprise.

“Well, Lady Caverly…I must admit your involvement in this affair never occurred to me. The possibility of your husband seeking vengeance crossed my mind, but not you.”

“Pity how often a man underestimates a woman.”

Rafe’s gaze found Danielle’s and she saw something there she had never seen in his eyes before. It looked so much like love it made her want to weep. “Yes, it is.”

“Mr. Goddard works for me. He is quite invaluable, as you have already discovered.”

Rafe’s fierce blue eyes swung to Phillip Goddard. “You set the fire.”

“Arranged for it to be set.”

“And the carriage accident?”

He shrugged. “Rather a nice bit of business, I thought. I’m surprised it didn’t work as well as I planned.”

“So what happens now?” Rafael asked.

The marchioness’s stout figure moved slightly forward. “Now that you understand the reason you are here, you will die. Afterward, your bodies will be transported somewhere far away and you will simply disappear.”

“You think you can murder the Duke and Duchess of Sheffield and no one will know that you are the one responsible?”

“You didn’t figure it out. I’m an old woman, hardly a suspect. No one will ever be the wiser.”

And Danielle thought that perhaps the old woman was right.

“Finish it,” Lady Caverly said to Phillip Goddard.

Goddard tipped his head to the bearded man with the gun and he pointed the pistol at Rafe. Across from them, a pistol appeared in the hands of the toothless henchman, who pointed the weapon at Danielle, and everything happened at once.

Dani hurled herself at the man aiming at Rafe, slamming them both to the ground. His gun went off, the shot going wild, whizzing through the air. At the same instant, Rafe fired a shot from a pistol that must have been in the pocket of his coat and the man to his right went down. The henchman fired as he hit the grass, and Dani cried out at the burning pain that tore into her side.

“Danielle!”

Men seemed to appear out of nowhere. As she curled into a ball against the pain, she caught sight of the Earl of Brant’s muscular figure racing toward them up the hill, running next to the Marquess of Belford, Ethan Sharpe. Robert McKay appeared on the opposite side of the knoll, a pistol pointed at Phillip Goddard.

Then Rafe was there, kneeling at her side, taking her hand and whispering her name.

“Danielle. Dear God, Danielle!”

The smell of gunpowder burned her eyes and the ache in her side swelled until she could barely breathe. Her eyelids felt heavy and darkness seemed to spread like a cloak around her. She forced her eyes open. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am the one who is sorry. I love you, Danielle. I love you so very much.”

Dani looked into his beloved face and saw the tears that spilled onto his cheeks. “I love you…too, Rafael. I never…really…stopped.”

Then her eyes slid closed on a wave of pain and the darkness sucked her down.

Her final thought was of Rafael and that, at last, she would give him the gift of his freedom, the chance for a son he deserved so very much.