Please, please, do not delay. Come soon
.
Now.
She reminded herself that she was not without protection. She had only to scream and she would be safe. But she was not so brave that she did not cringe when he took her hand and raised it to his kiss.
He looked at her, and she knew he would try another kiss next, and not on her hand.
He is too bold. Too conceited. Your plan will not work because of it
.
“If you are discourteous, Latham, there will be no more invitations. I remind you that I am a gentleman’s daughter.”
His expression fell at the scold. Then he straightened and began laughing.
Suddenly his laugh broke abruptly. A snarl twisted his face. His fingers cupped her chin, hard. He bent so his face was mere inches from hers. “And I remind you that I have already had you, like the whore you are. At least there will be no pretense this time.”
Alarm paralyzed her. Just as she made the decision to call for help, a sound stopped her. A door knocker, then voices below.
Latham heard too. He listened, frowning deeply, while his fingers still grasped her chin. More sounds now, on the stairs and even in the street.
He released her, strode to the window, and looked out. His face fell in surprise.
“Oh, my, these must be my other guests arriving. Did I forget to tell you, Gerome? I decided to host my first party in my new home today.”
“Y
ou should not have come, Audrianna,” Daphne said, while she helped her friend ease down onto the most comfortable chair.
“And miss this? I’ll give birth in the reception hall first.” Audrianna looked around. “Oh, good, the bishops came.”
“I thought Latham would die when they walked in,” Daphne said. She could not enjoy the show quite the same as Audrianna. The real drama had not begun yet. Its success would depend on her.
Lord Sebastian had brought up his wife, scowling with annoyance that she had insisted on this odd visit when her time was past due. Now he looked around, curiously, his gaze resting on those bishops and on several matrons known to see themselves as bulwarks of society.
He turned that speculative gaze on his wife. “Do we own this house now? Or did we only rent it?”
“Neither,” she said. “Verity provided the money for the lease. Do not tell Hawkeswell, please. It is really none of our business, if you think about it.”
Summerhays thought that amusing. “It is a very expensive party that you have helped Mrs. Joyes host.”
“We expect it to cost someone else a good deal more than it cost us, before it is over,” she said blithely. “Oh, here is Celia and Albrighton. Is everyone here now, Daphne?”
“Yes.” She could be excused for hoping Celia would be delayed. She had no doubts about her course of action, but she did not relish walking onto the stage.
From across the drawing room, Verity caught her eye and subtly nodded.
All who are coming are here
, her gaze said.
Have heart. We are with you.
Daphne walked to the center of the chamber. Latham, standing with his uncles the bishops, gave her a very private, very angry look.
She raised her voice and began a welcome of her guests. Talk drifted off and silence fell as attention came her way.
“You may wonder why you are here. The invitations from my friends hinted at a great spectacle, and perhaps some of you anticipate a virtuoso at a violin or the demonstration of some startling new invention. Those of you who read those letters closely, however, may have guessed that the spectacle would result from an amazing revelation and make for excellent gossip and scandal.” She turned to the bishops. “Not you, of course.”
A gentle laughter flowed at that. One of the bishops, a plump, hearty fellow, smiled. The other, thin and wizened and much older, scowled.
“Some of you know me as Mrs. Joyes. I have provided flowers for your garden parties or weddings, or greenery for your conservatories. I must tell you now, that is not my name. I am Daphne Avonleah, and I was never married. I took the name Mrs. Joyes to explain a peculiar period in my history. Of significance is that my father was a gentleman of Shropshire county named Michael Avonleah. He was a friend of the last Duke of Becksbridge, who took me into his household upon my father’s death.”
Her composure wobbled. She looked at Celia, Audrianna, and Verity for reassurance and strength.
“You must tell them,” Celia said clearly. “There has been silence for too long.”
A little rumble of voices reacted to that. Daphne noticed some white by the doorway. Margaret rose on her toes and looked over shoulders, her eyes burning.
“While I was in the duke’s household,” Daphne continued, “his son, the Earl of Latham, seduced me, and took my innocence despite my pleas that he stop.”
“Lies,” one of the bishops exclaimed.
“Nonsense,” a voice on the other side of the chamber muttered.
“Believe what you will about me, but there were other unfortunates before and after me, for whom there was no seduction but only brute force.”
“This is slander of the most insidious kind.” Latham pretended to be much shocked and distressed. He looked to his uncles for sympathy. They nodded and speared Daphne with dangerous glares.
“Be most careful, Mrs. Joyes, or whoever you are. Accusing a man of a crime in this way is most serious, and you could well find yourself in Newgate Prison,” the old, wizened uncle threatened.
“She is friends with wives of some political opponents,” Latham said sadly. “That men would go to such extremes to silence my voice is the real scandal.”
“Best that you be careful now, Latham,” Hawkeswell said. “There are three men here who are now justified in calling you out for that, and I am sore tempted to be first in line.”
To say the company enjoyed this show would not be kind. Hawkeswell’s allusion to a challenge sharpened attention that was already well honed, however.
“There cannot be slander in the truth,” Daphne said. “But do not take my word alone.”
She turned to the doorway. Margaret’s cap disappeared. Then a scuffle of footsteps caused the people standing over there to part.
Margaret, her red hair uncovered now, walked forward. Two women followed. All were dressed modestly in simple dresses. They gathered around Daphne. Margaret held her own, but the other two cowered under the hard gazes of all these fine people.
“Tell them,” she said quietly.
“I’ll not stand for this,” Latham exclaimed. He took two strides toward leaving, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. The hand stayed there and appeared to cause some pain. Mr. Albrighton, to whom that grip belonged, appeared unaware that it might be uncomfortable.
“You should hear the women out, sir. You can’t adequately deny what you have not heard.”
Whether Latham accepted the sense of that or simply could not move while that hand rested there, he strode no farther.
“I was a maid in Lord Becksbridge’s home before Miss Avonleah arrived,” Margaret said. She told how Latham had grabbed her as she crossed a field and forced himself on her.
The oldest of them, Emma, lost her fear then. “He was no more than fifteen when he held a knife to me. Threatened to kill me in my sleep if I told anyone.”
The last woman was Susan. Small and frail and trembling from this attention and Latham’s presence, she spoke very quietly. “I was only fifteen, and he much older by then. I was so ignorant still, I did not know what he was doing, except that he hurt me and I bled.”
She hid her face in Daphne’s breast as soon as it was done. Daphne held her and soothed her while all hell let loose in the chamber.
Latham was in fine form, playing the victim of a malicious plot. A good many of the company seemed inclined to agree with him.
The plump, affable uncle appeared less than convinced but not as glaring as before. “There is no proof of this except their tales, of course.”
“The last duke knew it all,” Daphne said. “He tried to compensate them. All three were found living on lands he held until his death, at no cost. All three received allowances from him. His accounts should show the money, even if there were not leases.”
That uncle glanced sidewise at Latham with a skeptical eye. “It should be easy enough to disprove, then.”
“It is not for me to disprove but for them to prove,” Latham said with exasperation. “If there were payments, perhaps he made them for another purpose. Perhaps he paid for his own sins. He certainly was not paying for mine.”
“Are you impugning my dead brother’s honor? Your own father?”
“I am saying once more that there is no proof, and these women are all liars.”
Everyone had an opinion on that. Outrage, doubts, and arguments raged through the air. Daphne held Susan and Emma and prayed this ordeal she had asked of them proved worth it.
“There is more than their word as proof, I assure you,” a voice said.
It had come from the doorway. Although it had not been spoken loudly, everyone turned in that direction.
Castleford stood there, managing to appear bemused at the same time as indifferent. He stepped into the chamber and looked around, both enjoying the attention he garnered and showing the potential for irritation of the same.
He greeted a few of the company, then noticed Latham’s uncles. “Ah, bishop one and bishop two. How redundant. Did your older brother not come? Perhaps he is still in a melancholy that Latham survived his father.”
“See here, Castleford, that is in very bad taste,” a gentleman muttered. “As is this entire spectacle.”
“But you are still here, aren’t you?”
He had not looked directly at Daphne so far, but he did now. He did not voice his thoughts, but they were in his eyes. His displeasure streamed through the air to her.
“You say there is more evidence than their words, Castleford,” Summerhays said. “It might be best to share what it is.”
Castleford looked at Latham. He did not glare. Daphne thought he appeared almost sad. “There is my word as well. This woman here is telling the truth at least.” He pointed to Margaret. “If she is, I would say they all are. I know her evidence is sound, because I saw him with her. I saw it happen.”
The entire room held its breath. Latham appeared in shock.
“He is lying,” Latham spit. “He only says this for his passing amusement. He is so depraved he thinks this is a joke.”
“
I give my word as a gentleman
that I saw him with her. I pulled him off her myself.” He looked at Latham. “And such a thing is never a joke. I am thinking that you never understood that.”
The bishops turned to Latham, dismayed. “Have you nothing to say? Are you going to let this stand?” the short, wizened one demanded furiously.
“He is weighing it,” Castleford said. “He does nothing without careful calculations.” He paced over to Latham. People scurried out of his way as he did. “If you say I am lying again, you know I must challenge you. Or you must challenge me soon, for impugning your honor. Either way, I think that we will meet.”
Latham stared with such hatred that if he were armed, Daphne feared something would have happened right then, in front of the world. Instead, face contorted and eyes aflame, Latham pushed past Castleford and strode from the chamber.
The noise of many conversations suddenly filled the air. Amid the tumult, Castleford came to Daphne. He looked at her in his most ducal way.
“I told you not to try to bring him down.”
“I had other thoughts on the matter.”
“I see that you did.”
“It was all begun before I learned of your own scheme. Even so, I decided that eighty thousand pounds was not enough punishment.”
“I expect not.” He turned his attention to Emma and Susan. “My other two tenants, I presume. You can tell me later how you knew where to find them.” He cocked his head and eyed her suspiciously. “Why do I think I will not like that story?”
Hawkeswell and Summerhays came over, sober despite the apparent victory. Castleford looked at them each in turn, then past them to the milling bodies. “Can you get rid of them? Those two over there are already laying bets on whether there will be a duel.”
It did not take long. Within twenty minutes all the guests had left the house.
Which left three husbands and one lover looking at Daphne and her friends most severely, with pending scolds in their eyes.
“D
o you want me to kill him?”
The question came through the dark at Daphne, as the aftermath of passion slid away and the world returned too clearly.
If she were honest, she thought, she would admit that some form of that question, and all that it meant, had been with them since they left Bird Street and returned to Castleford’s home. It probably explained the way he had handled her, as if he sought to force her acceptance of his mastery.