The Handmaiden's Necklace (6 page)

Rafe reached down and captured the lady’s white-gloved hand. He lifted her fingers to his lips. “Thank you, Lady Wycombe. You have ever been a good friend to Dani.”

“Whatever you do, do not make me regret my involvement in this affair. Promise me you will do nothing more to hurt her.”

Rafe looked down at the stout little gray-haired woman who had been far more loyal to Danielle than he ever had been. “I give you my solemn word.”

Wearing only her chemise and a light silk wrapper, since the night was warm even at this late hour, Danielle sat on a
petit-point stool in front of the dressing table in her room. Caroline Loon sat on the edge of the four-poster canopied bed across from her.

“He was there at the party, Caro. I still can’t believe it. He came all the way from England. What could he possibly want?”

“Perhaps it isn’t what you think. Perhaps the man who introduced you is right and the duke is simply here on business. You told me the duke is quite wealthy. Perhaps he has financial concerns in America as well as England.”

Dani felt a glimmer of hope. “Do you really think it’s possible?”

“I think it’s entirely possible.”

“Perhaps he has come to see Richard, to warn him against the sort of woman he believes me to be.”

“Your fiancé knows the truth. There is nothing the duke can tell him that you haven’t already told him yourself. What Sheffield might say won’t make any difference.”

“I’m not so sure. Richard is extremely concerned with appearances. He might believe in my innocence, but he would be highly concerned should others hear the story.”

Caro tapped the silver-backed hairbrush she held in one hand. “You said the duke pretended not to know you last night. Perhaps he will keep his silence.”

Dani shook her head. “Rafael hates me. He ruined my life once before. How can I believe he will not try to do it again?”

“Maybe you should talk to him, find out what he is thinking.”

An odd feeling stirred to life in Dani’s chest. She couldn’t imagine what it was. “Yes, perhaps I should. At least I will know where I stand.”

Caro got up from the bed, taller and thinner than Dani, wearing a mobcap over a thatch of pale blond curls. “It’s getting late. Turn round and let me brush out your hair, then you should try to get some sleep. Tomorrow we can make some sort of plan.”

Dani nodded. She turned on the stool and Caro deftly pulled the pins from her hair, letting the heavy strands fall loose down her back. The bristle brush followed, stroking through the thick mass of curls. Caro was right. Tomorrow she would make plans to confront Rafael.

Her stomach tightened.

In the meantime, it was highly unlikely that she would be able to sleep.

Danielle was up early…at least by London standards. Americans didn’t seem to enjoy the same ungodly hours as the
ton,
whose members stayed out half the night, then wasted most of the next day in bed preparing to repeat their indulgence again the next evening. The people in this country might enjoy a late night on occasion, but it didn’t seem to be the norm. The Americans she had met were hard workers and extremely ambitious.

Richard was certainly one of them.

Still, today he had promised they would spend the afternoon with his children and share an intimate supper with his mother and a couple of family friends before he left for his factory in Easton, a small town fifty miles away where he would be working for the next few days.

“Dani! Dani!” Caro burst through the doorway, her blue eyes wide as saucers. “He’s here! He’s downstairs in the parlor!”

“Slow down, Caro.
Who
is downstairs in the parlor?”

“The duke! He says he wishes to speak to you. He says it is a matter of extreme importance.”

A wave of nausea hit her and her hands started to tremble. Dani took a calming breath and tried to slow her wildly beating heart.

This was what she wanted—wasn’t it?

She needed to talk to him, discover his intentions.

Dani made a quick survey of her reflection in the tall, cheval glass mirror, turning to assess the back of her pale blue muslin day dress, straightening the slim skirt, adjusting the high-waisted bodice.

The gown looked presentable and Caro had pulled back her hair on the sides and fastened it with tortoiseshell combs, but a heavy mass of curls fell down her back.

“You look fine,” Caro said, tugging her toward the door. “You wanted to talk to him. Now go find out why he is here.”

Dani took another deep breath and raised her chin. She squeezed her hands together until they stopped shaking, then headed for the stairs. As she entered the parlor, a comfortable room done in shades of white and soft rose, she spotted Rafael’s tall figure seated on the sofa. He came to his feet the instant she walked through the door.

“Thank you for seeing me,” he said very gallantly.

“Did I really have a choice?” She knew Rafael. If he wanted to speak to her, aside from shooting him, there was no way to keep him away.

“No, I don’t suppose you did.” He motioned toward the sofa. “Join me?”

“I would prefer to stand, thank you.”

Rafael released a breath. He was six years older than she,
which meant he would be thirty-one by now. Fine lines crinkled beside those blue, blue eyes, and there was a weariness in his features that hadn’t been there when he was younger. Still, he was handsome. One of the handsomest men she had ever seen.

She felt those intense blue eyes on her face. “I have traveled thousands of miles to see you, Danielle. I understand your animosity toward me—no one could understand it more—but I would appreciate it if you would sit down so that we might have this chance to speak.”

Dani blew out a breath. Knowing it was useless to argue, she went over and sat down on the rose velvet sofa and Rafe walked over and closed the parlor doors. She was surprised when he settled himself beside her a barely respectable distance away.

“Shall I call for tea?” she asked. “Since we are suddenly being so civilized.”

“Tea isn’t necessary, only your attention. I came here to apologize, Danielle.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“You heard me correctly. I am here because everything you said was true. That night five years ago, I am the one who betrayed you, not the other way around.”

She swallowed, suddenly feeling light-headed. She was glad she had agreed to sit down. “I’m afraid I don’t…don’t understand.”

Rafe turned more fully toward her. “Oliver Randall lied about what happened that night—just as you always claimed. He engineered everything, right down to the note I received, which was the reason I went to your room that night.”

Rafe explained the events of the evening and the reason he had been so convinced she was having an affair with Oliver Randall. The story was so incredible that the words began swimming round in her head.

“Why…?” she asked softly. “Why would Oliver do such a thing? I tried to figure it out, but it never made any sense.”

“He did it because he wanted you for himself. He was in love with you, Danielle, but he couldn’t have you. And he was insanely jealous of me.”

Dani leaned back on the sofa, her heart beating oddly, a tight feeling inside her chest. Rafe got up and walked over to the sideboard. Pouring a dollop of brandy into a crystal snifter, he returned to where she sat and pressed the brandy glass into her hand.

“Drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”

When she made no effort to raise the glass, he wrapped his fingers around hers and lifted the snifter to her lips. Dani took a tentative swallow, felt the warm burn, and took another. In truth, she did feel somewhat better.

She looked up at Rafael, still unable to believe he stood there in the parlor. “How did you find all of this out?”

“I hired an investigator, a Bow Street runner, a man I had used on a number of occasions before.”

Danielle shook her head. “I still can’t believe it.”

“What is it you don’t believe?”

“That you would travel thousands of miles simply to tell me you were wrong.”

“And also to tell you that Oliver Randall paid the highest price for his treachery.”

Dani came up off the sofa so swiftly brandy sloshed against the sides of her crystal glass. “You killed him?”

Rafe took the snifter from her unsteady hands and set it down on the table. “I challenged him to a duel, as I did before, only this time I forced him to accept. My shot bounced off a rib and lodged in an area around his spine. Oliver Randall will never walk again.”

She tried to feel something, tried to make herself abhor what Rafael had done. But she knew the code of honor a highborn Englishman lived by. Knew that if Rafe ever discovered the truth, he would make Oliver pay.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally.

“For Randall? Don’t be.”

“For all of us. For the years we lost. For the damage that was done.”

“Randall destroyed our lives, Danielle. Mine as well as yours. You might not believe it, but it’s true.”

“Well, now he has paid, so it’s over. Thank you for telling me. I was afraid…”

“You were afraid of what, Danielle?”

Her chin went up. “I was afraid you had come to destroy my plans for the future. My chance of finding happiness with Richard.”

“You believed I would go that far, that I hated you that much?”

“Didn’t you?”

“I never spoke a word to anyone about that night. Not once in all of these years.”

“But you never denied the rumors. You cried off two days after it happened. By breaking our betrothal that way, you made it clear that I was guilty.”

Something moved across his features. She thought it might be regret. “There is no denying my role in what hap
pened. If I could change things…if I could do it over, I would.”

“But we can’t do that, can we, Rafael?”

“No. We can’t undo the past.”

Danielle rose from the sofa. “Goodbye, Rafael.” She started walking toward the door, her heart still beating fiercely, fighting an urge to weep.

“Do you love him?” Rafe called suddenly.

Danielle just kept walking, out through the parlor doors into the entry. Lifting her skirt up out of the way, she concentrated on climbing the stairs, one by one, up to her room.

R
afe sat on the horsehair sofa in the parlor of his suite at the William Penn Hotel. Thinking of his meeting with Danielle, he propped his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands.

“That bad, was it?” Emerging from the bedroom, Max Bradley strolled up beside him as silent as a wraith. He always seemed to appear without warning. Rafe still wasn’t used to it.

“Worse,” he said, leaning back against the sofa, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “I’ll never forget the look on her face when I told her I had finally discovered her innocence in the affair. My God, if she hated me before, she loathes me completely now.”

“Are you certain? Or do you just hate yourself?”

Rafe sighed, knowing it was true. “There’s no denying the guilt I feel for not believing her that night. I wish there were something I could do to make it up to her.”

Max walked over and poured himself a brandy. He was nearly as tall as Rafe, several years older, and thin to the
point of gaunt. His face was weathered and hard, the deep lines hinting at the sort of life he led. Thick black hair, always a little too long, curled over the back of his plain brown tailcoat.

Max poured a glass of brandy for Rafe, walked over and handed him the drink. “You look like you could use this.”

For the first time Rafe realized that Max was speaking with an American accent. In France, he’d spoken French like a countryman. He was a man who stayed mostly in shadow and he never slipped out of whatever role he played. In Max’s line of work, such talents were invaluable.

Rafe took a swallow of brandy, grateful for its inner warmth. “Thank you.”

“You said Danielle came here to be married.”

“That’s right.”

“Have you met the man?”

“Briefly. From what I’ve been able to find out, he’s a very successful businessman, a widower with a daughter and a son.”

“Is your lady in love with him?”

One of Rafe’s dark eyebrows went up. “Danielle is no longer my lady, and I have no idea. She wouldn’t tell me.”

“Interesting…” Max took a long draw on his brandy. “In that case, I suppose it’s something you need to find out.”

He scoffed. “Why? Lots of people marry for reasons other than love.”

“You said you wished there was something you could do to make up for what happened in the past.”

“I said that. As far as I can see there isn’t a damn thing I can do.”

“If the lady doesn’t love the man she is going to wed,
then you might consider wedding her yourself. She could return to England, to her aunt and her family. More important, marrying her would end the gossip, set the wagging tongues to rest and make your lady’s innocence clear once and for all.”

Rafe’s chest squeezed. There was a time he had wanted to marry Danielle above all things. That time was long past—wasn’t it?

Or had the thought been brewing in his head ever since he had found out the truth of her innocence? Was that the true reason he had gone to see the Earl of Throckmorton in regard to his betrothal to Mary Rose?

He had asked the earl that the wedding be postponed and was surprised—and secretly relieved—when the earl suggested the betrothal be ended completely.

“I believe I have made a mistake where my daughter is concerned,” the earl had said. “Mary Rose is so young, so innocent. A worldly man like you…a man so much older. It’s obvious you’re a virile man of very strong appetites…to put it bluntly, Your Grace, my daughter is completely intimidated by you, and particularly frightened of sharing a bed with you. I don’t believe, even over time, that is going to change.”

Rafe could hardly believe his ears. The man was giving up the chance to wed his daughter to a duke. It simply did not happen in the world of the
ton.

“Are you certain ending the betrothal is what Mary Rose wants? I would be patient with her…give her a chance to get used to me.”

“I’m certain you would, Rafael. I hope you understand I am doing what I believe is best for my daughter.”

It was surprising, and Rafe gave high marks to the earl. “I understand completely. And I respect you greatly for putting your daughter’s best interests first. I’m grateful for your honesty and I wish Mary Rose every happiness.”

Though he should have been depressed, should have been angry that his plans for the future had been ruined for the second time in his life, Rafe had left the house feeling as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He didn’t understand it. He had imagined a future, a family, with Mary Rose.

He looked up at Max Bradley, sipping brandy in the parlor of his suite. “Though I admit the notion of marrying Danielle has merit, there is the small matter of her dislike of me. If I asked for her hand, she would most certainly refuse.”

“I suppose that’s for you to find out. And of course, there is the not so small matter of whether or not you still care for the girl.”

Did he care? Today he had looked at Dani and seen her as he had five years ago, seen her without the taint of his hatred, a beautiful young woman, intelligent and caring. A woman innocent of the betrayal he had so ruthlessly accused her of committing.

“I want Danielle to be happy. I owe her that much and I am determined to see that it happens—one way or another.”

Max clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, then, good luck, my friend. It sounds like you’re going to need it.” Max took a final sip of his brandy and set the glass down on the mahogany table in front of the sofa. “In the meantime, I’ve got a number of things to do. If my information proves correct, I may need your help.”

Rafe had told Colonel Pendleton he would help in any way he could. “Just let me know what you need me to do.”

Max simply nodded. Seconds later he was gone from the room, disappearing as quietly as he had arrived, and Rafe’s thoughts returned to Danielle.

He owed her the chance at happiness that he had stolen from her. To do that, he needed to know more about the man she was to wed.

Rafe smiled grimly.

Rising from the sofa, he walked over to the silver salver sitting on the Sheraton table in the entry. He picked up the folded piece of paper he had received that morning, an invitation from Mrs. William Clemens to a small dinner party at her home that evening.

Sometimes it paid to be a duke.

Rafe had already sent word that he would be delighted to attend.

The intimate supper with Richard’s family, Danielle discovered, would be dinner with twenty people, all formally dressed, arriving in expensive carriages at Richard’s mother’s elegant brick residence in Society Hill.

Richard had his own, slightly smaller but no less elegant home just a few blocks away, as well as a cottage in Easton that he used whenever he was there working, which apparently happened quite often.

Dani had spent the afternoon with Richard’s mother; Richard’s son, William Jr.; and his daughter, Sophie—their first real time together. Richard had been with them for a while, but the children seemed to prey on his nerves and he made an excuse to leave.

Dani almost didn’t blame him. William and Sophie had argued and fought and thrown tantrums through most of the day. They were still arguing when Dani prepared to return to Aunt Flora’s house on Arch Street so that she could change out of her day dress and into a more elaborate gown for the evening.

They were still at it when she and Aunt Flora returned at seven o’clock to join the first of the supper guests.

“Give me back my horse!” William Jr. was seven years old, Sophie only six. Both were blond, William with brown eyes and Sophie with green. Both looked a good deal like their father.

“It’s my horse,” Sophie argued. “You gave it to me.”

“I didn’t give it to you—I only let you play with it!”

“Children, please…” Dani hurried toward them, hoping she could stop this latest row before more of the guests arrived. Earlier in the day, their grandmother had tried to placate them with gifts, a toy horse for William, a new doll for Sophie, though the bedchamber they used when they came for a visit overflowed with toys she had given them before.

“Your grandmother’s guests have begun to arrive. You don’t want them thinking you are ill-mannered.”

William whirled on her viciously. “We don’t have to do anything you say! We don’t like you!”

They didn’t seem to like anyone, at least not anyone who tried to control them. Of course, neither Richard’s mother nor Richard himself bothered to try.

Dani sighed. She couldn’t help thinking of the little girl, Maida Ann, and the little boy, Terrance, from the orphanage. They were happy with the tiniest trinket, the least bit of affection. Terrance would have treasured the carved wooden horse Mrs. Clemens had given to William. Maida
Ann would have loved the doll Sophie had tossed into a corner.

Dani looked down at the two blond heads in front of her. Getting the children to accept her as their mother was going to be a Herculean task. She would do it—even though she suspected that neither Richard nor his mother, or even the children themselves really cared if she succeeded.

Mrs. Clemens bustled toward her, a large woman as tall as Dani with blond hair going gray. “Richard’s driver is here to pick up William and Sophie and take them home. Their nurse will be waiting when they get there.”

Dani turned to the children, still bickering over the little carved horse. William tugged the toy from Sophie’s small hands and she started to cry.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” Dani said. She hurried over and retrieved Sophie’s toy from where she had tossed it, then returned and knelt in front of the little girl. “Here’s your new doll. You can take her home with you if you like.”

Sophie took the doll and slammed the porcelain head against the wall, smashing it into a dozen pieces that rained down on the carpet. “I don’t want a silly old doll. I want a horse!”

Mrs. Clemens took hold of Sophie’s hand. “You mustn’t fret, dear. Grandma will get you a horse the next time you come over.” The look she cast Dani told her not to argue. Both mother and son seemed to believe that the way to make William and Sophie behave was to give them anything they wanted.

Dani hoped that in time she would be able to convince Richard that what he and his mother were doing was not in the children’s best interest.

She turned at the sound of her fiancé’s voice as he walked up behind her. “I’m sorry I had to leave, darling. In my business, sometimes these things happen.”

He had said he had forgotten an important business meeting and had no choice but to leave, but Dani smelled the faint aroma of liquor on his breath. He had stopped by his house and changed into his evening clothes, dark blue breeches and a light gray tailcoat over a silver waistcoat, and as always, looked extremely handsome.

And the way he was looking at her, his hazel eyes moving over her high-waisted green silk gown, said he was pleased with her appearance, too.

He tipped his head toward William and Sophie, who were ignoring him as if he weren’t there. “The trials of being a parent. It’ll be such a comfort to know you’ll be there to take care of the children.”

“Will I, Richard? Will I actually be taking care of them, or will I simply be their nursemaid?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m just not sure we are going to agree on how much William and Sophie ought to be indulged.”

Though the smile remained on his face, Richard’s features subtly tightened. “I’m sure we can work something out—as long as you keep in mind that these are
my
children. Where they are concerned, I am the one who will make the decisions.”

Angry heat rushed into her cheeks. She’d been afraid that was the position Richard would take. She opened her mouth to argue, but guests had started pouring into the house and this was obviously not the time or place.

Richard’s smile softened. “Let’s not fight tonight, dar
ling. We’ll discuss all of this tomorrow, work everything out. In the meantime, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

He turned a little, revealing the presence of a tall man watching them from a few feet away. “When I told Mother you had a fellow countryman—a duke, no less—visiting here in the city, she invited him to join us.” Richard stepped back, allowing her to see the man behind him, but Dani had already spotted Rafael.

Her chest constricted and her heart began a too-rapid beat. Dear God, why was Rafe torturing her this way? Surely he knew how uncomfortable his presence made her. She had loved him once. Didn’t he know that looking at him now reminded her of times long past? Reminded her of what might have been?

“Miss Duval,” Rafe said, capturing her gloved hand, making a formal bow as he brought her fingers to his lips. “A pleasure to see you again.”

Dani ignored the little tremor that ran up her arm. She didn’t know why he had come. She only wished he would leave.

It wasn’t going to happen, she realized as he conversed with Richard, made polite conversation with Aunt Flora and Mrs. Clemens, then accompanied the group in to supper.

Rafael was seated at the head of the table, as he would have been back home, but Mrs. Clemens sat to his right and Jacob Wentz to his left. The remainder of the guests took their places.

Dani sat next to Richard, farther down the table, Aunt Flora across from them. Rafael made polite conversation with his hostess and spoke often to Richard and several of
the other men, but even as Dani stumbled through the lavish meal, she could feel his eyes on her.

She did everything in her power not to look at him, but dear God, time and again her gaze searched for his and she seemed unable to look away. There was something in those intense blue eyes, something hot and fierce that shouldn’t have been there. Something that stirred old memories of the way the two of them once had been.

She remembered the day nearly five years ago that they had walked together in the apple orchard behind Rafe’s country estate, Sheffield Hall.

Laughing at something she said, he had lifted her into the swing that hung down from the branches, then bent his dark head and kissed her, softly at first, but with such barely leashed passion she could still recall the feel of his lips moving over hers, remember the masculine taste of him.