Dark Before the Rising Sun (26 page)

“It could not have been common knowledge that you were penniless, for you had just made the discovery yourself. It does seem rather too coincidental that this woman learned of it just when she might have come forward to clear your name,” Rhea demanded.

Dante grinned in appreciation. “You are beginning to become too worldly, my love. Her grandfather, who had raised her since her parents' deaths, was a friend of my family and just happened to be informed of the truth by my guardian.”

“This guardian of yours certainly exerted a great influence on your life,” said Rhea. “You trusted him. You even gave your lands to him for safekeeping. And because you trusted him, you also told him of your love for this woman. And when suspicion was cast against you, you confided in him, did you not? Having you accused of murder must have fitted into his plans most conveniently. Learning of your alibi, he had to make certain it never came to light. He let it be known that you were destitute in order to suppress your alibi.”

“You amaze me, Rhea. I had thought you so innocent. But yes, I trusted my guardian, and would have with my life as well as my lands.”

“Why did he wish to destroy you, Dante?”

Dante sighed. “Because he hated the name Leighton. He hated Merdraco and all it has always stood for. He was jealous and envious, and because of something which happened many years earlier, that dislike turned into hatred. He plotted the downfall of Merdraco, and he played both my mother and me for fools. She had tried to warn me against him, but…” Dante's voice was full of all the regrets and bitterness of unsatisfied revenge, all he had felt over the years.

“Then how could you have trusted him in the first place?” Rhea asked, trying to read his expression.

“He was very clever. He pretended to be a friend. He maintained his air of kindly benevolence, always pretending to be so concerned about me, and then playing the betrayed friend when I was accused of murder. Quite the respected gentleman of the community he is. But that was yesterday, my love, and I am more concerned about today and having you to myself for the first time in much too long,” Dante said.

Rhea moved back a little, her eyes searching his face. “Dante, this guardian of yours. He is still alive?”

Dante was quiet. Too quiet, Rhea thought.

“Where is he, Dante?”

“Soon he will be in hell, but for now he lives at Wolfingwold Abbey. Whenever he approaches his lands, he must travel the only road across the moors, and once he has reached Merwest Cross, where the roads leading north and south cross, he cannot help but see the towers of Merdraco standing proud against the skies. He thinks of me then, Rhea, and he knows I am out there somewhere, that I am waiting for the day I can send him to his grave.”

More exquisite than any other autumn rose.

—Théodore Agrippa d'Aubigné

It came as no great surprise to Dante when, the following day, he received an imperious summons from the Duchess of Camareigh. The meeting was already long overdue, and Dante had a feeling that Her Grace's patience had run thin where he was concerned, especially in light of the latest disturbing piece of information she must have heard concerning her son-in-law.

“Now try to be pleasant, m'lord,” Kirby reminded his captain, a worried frown wrinkling his brow while he brushed a few stray cat hairs from the shoulder of Dante's dark blue frock coat.

“Why, Kirby, I am always pleasant and diplomatic.”

“Aye, when ye're wantin' somethin'. But your honey-tongued words won't be makin' any impression whatsoever on Her Grace,” Kirby warned. “She's keen-eyed, that lady is. If ye're smart, ye'll be seein' that for yourself when ye meet her,” the little steward warned the captain as he eyed him up and down with critical thoroughness. “Aye, ye'll do, then,” he finally decided. The captain's dark chestnut curls were brushed neatly back and tied with a plain ribbon, and the clean white carefully folded stock was a startling contrast against the bronzed skin of his face, which was smoothly shaven and lightly scented. Dante's fawn-colored breeches still fit nicely, and although only one of his silk stockings was visible, it looked proper, as did his lordship's fashionable Spanish-leather pumps. “Aye, reckon ye
look
decent enough,” allowed Kirby in a backhanded compliment.

“Thank you. Now I have no fear of facing what I am certain will be the even more critical eye of the Duchess of Camareigh,” Dante said with a mocking grin. But underlying his apparent ease was a deep concern that all might not go well, and that could be disastrous for his relationship with Rhea. She was already disturbed by her father's continued coolness toward him, and should her mother show a similar tendency, it could only add strain. He promised himself to make the Duchess of Camareigh accept him, for he'd be damned if he was going to lose Rhea now.

“Here, don't be forgettin' your gift for Her Grace,” Kirby reminded him as Dante started to hobble to the door. “Seems a strange thing to be givin' Her Grace if ye was askin' me,” Kirby said, handing him the package. A bouquet of flowers, or even a jewelry box would have been more appropriate, but try to tell a person somethin' when they've got their minds set, thought Kirby.

“But I am not asking you, Kirby,” Dante said with that devilish grin. The little steward held open the door and watched as the captain slowly made his way along the corridor on his crutch, his peculiar present tucked carefully beneath his arm.

A footman clad in blue and gold livery, his hair hidden beneath a neatly powdered wig, stepped aside deferentially as he opened the double doors to the Duchess of Camareigh's private salon.

“Lord Jacqobi, Your Grace,” he intoned in so serious a voice that Dante stopped, expecting to see the man don his headsman's hood and lower an ax against the intruder's neck.

Dante paused in the center of a flowered carpet, surprise overtaking him. He could have sworn he heard a bird's song, yet the trees beyond the tall windows were bare. On the other hand, one would never suspect that winter could intrude in this room. There was a feeling of perpetual sunshine. The white plasterwork ceiling and gilded scrollwork and carvings festooning the walls created a light, airy effect, reflected in the crystal chandelier with its sunbursts and beads. A couple of wing chairs upholstered in a delicate lilac floral motif were arranged along one side of the hearth, and a settee of pale yellow Chinese silk was opposite.

It appeared that the room was empty except for that strange chirping, and Dante was about to leave when he caught sight of a movement in one of the window seats.

As he stared at the woman sitting there, Dante was stunned. She was a ghost from his past, dressed in the palest of sea-green satin, with elegant lace adorning her décolletage and trailing from her sleeves. Her midnight black hair was simply coiffed, and several soft curls caressed the ivory smoothness of her shoulder.

Dante blinked, thinking the vision must surely disappear and he would find himself in bed, awaking from some bizarre dream. But when he looked again, she was still sitting there. This time he noticed that on either side of her were two fair-haired children, listening with enraptured expressions to the melodic notes the woman was creating by cranking the handle of a miniature barrel organ.

Every so often one of the two children would glance up into her face and say something, and she would laugh softly and turn the handle of the serinette again. After a moment she stopped. Glancing up, her violet eyes met Dante's mesmerized gaze. She smiled.

“Forgive me, Lord Jacqobi, for not having greeted you properly when you entered,” she said in a soft, husky voice. Had Dante his wits about him, he would have realized that she'd had the opportunity to study him for several minutes while he stood in the center of the room.

“Lord Jacqobi? Are you quite all right? You look as if you have seen a ghost,” she said, little realizing how accurate her guess was; for Sabrina Dominick, Duchess of Camareigh and mother to Rhea Claire, was the very same woman Dante had seen in London and been enchanted by years earlier.

“Please, sit down,” the duchess said in growing concern as her son-in-law continued to stand there staring at her with a bemused expression on his face. But he didn't move, and she grew increasingly uneasy.

And then, quite suddenly, Dante began to laugh. At first he laughed softly, but then the sound grew into a deep, rich laugh which seemed to capture the untamed spirit of the man who, in risking the odds rather than meekly accepting his fate, had set out to make his fortune and create a future more to his liking. The duchess, startled, clasped an arm around each of her children. But her children were not frightened, and, in fact, seemed to find the tall man leaning on the crutch and laughing rather funny. Their giggling laughter joined his.

The duchess raised a rather haughty, inquiring brow as she stared at him, wondering if the man was losing his mind, and she had just about decided to call for assistance from one of the footmen standing outside of the double doors, when Dante's laughter faded. Having sensed her disquiet, he now managed, despite the crutch he was leaning on, to bow quite decently.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Dante said at last, “but your appearance startled me.”

“Indeed?” the duchess said frigidly. “I have come to expect varying reactions upon first acquaintances with strangers, but never has anyone laughed in my face,” she said, her small chin raised regally, and Kirby, had he been able to witness this first confrontation between the captain and the duchess, would have felt like stringing the captain up from a yardarm of the
Sea Dragon
, for he'd gone and done just what the little steward had warned him not to do.

“Please accept my deepest and sincerest apologies, for I meant no offense,” Dante said with one of his most engaging smiles, and it would have been hard for even the duchess not to have been mollified by that devilish charm that seemed to come so naturally to that very same captain of the
Sea Dragon
.

“Then you would not mind enlightening me?” the duchess inquired silkily, her violet eyes still regarding him with cold wariness.

“I was thinking, Your Grace,” Dante said, taking a step closer, “that you had not changed much through the years. If it is possible, you are even more beautiful than you were then,” was Dante's audacious reply, and it left Sabrina feeling no small amount of confusion, for his obviously sincere compliment was the last thing she had been expecting to hear.

“You will forgive me, Lord Jacqobi, but I am afraid I have no memory of such a meeting. I am certain I would have remembered you,” she responded, but there was a new, searching look in her eyes as she tried to remember where she might have met her son-in-law before.

“I was a vain, puffed-up lad when I saw you. You were in conversation with several older gentlemen and I was standing across the room, watching you. I remember thinking I had never seen so beautiful a young woman, and one so unaware of how enchanting she was. You seemed to have caught every gentleman's eye, yet I could see that you were not happy. You held yourself so proudly, so defiantly, as if daring anyone to touch you, which was what most of those fine gentlemen about you would have given their fortunes to do.”

“How extraordinary,” Sabrina murmured. There was a sad expression on her face as she remembered back to her first season. It had not been a happy time for her.

“I returned to Devonshire shortly after seeing you that evening, and I never discovered your name or that you eventually wed Lucien Dominick. When I returned to London the following year, no one seemed to know anything about you. I never saw you again. Of course, my life during those years was confined mainly to gaming tables and other gentlemanly pursuits, and most likely I did not frequent the establishments a lady would. It was just a few years after that when I left England. To see you again and to discover that you are Rhea's mother,” Dante spoke with a disbelieving shake of his head. “I never forgot your face, or those incredible violet eyes.
Now
I realize why Rhea has always seemed so wonderfully familiar to me. It has had me puzzled.” His gaze narrowed as he compared mother and daughter.

“That was long ago, and yet you have re-created vividly what I was feeling that evening,” the duchess said softly, staring up at the man who had captured her daughter's heart. She smiled, and for the first time since Dante had entered the room, it was a welcoming smile. “I am sorry that you did not find the nerve to approach and speak a few words with me. I think we would have had much to talk about, for I fear we are kindred spirits. I would have welcomed a friend, for I had only one wish then, and that was to return to the safe anonymity of Verrick House, my home in Sussex, which I managed to do shortly after that evening. I wed Lucien not long after that, and we stayed at Camareigh. With the birth of Rhea Claire, we preferred to spend our time in the country, establishing our family life without the constant interruptions of London and all the social functions that entails.”

Dante was silent awhile. “Yes, I regret that I did not come forward,” he said finally, feeling as if this woman had been his friend for years.

“Who is he?” one of the children snuggled close to the duchess wanted to know.

“This is Dante Leighton, Lord Jacqobi, and he is your sister Rhea's husband. Say hello to him, Andrew. Arden,” the duchess said, her hand caressing and smoothing their golden curls.

“You're funny,” Andrew said instead and began giggling as he caught his twin's eye. And as Dante hopped forward, the two youngsters laughed more.

“You walk like a bunny rabbit,” Arden squealed in delight.

“And I bet you like codlin tarts,” Dante responded, his grin widening as he stared at Rhea's young brother and sister. Perhaps his own child would have the golden hair of the Dominick line.

“How did you know that?” she demanded, her eyes round with wonder.

“I always know what little girls like,” Dante answered quite seriously.

“And do you know what Rhea Claire wants, Lord Jacqobi?” the duchess asked smoothly.

“She has my love, Your Grace,” Dante answered simply, sensing that a recital of his assets would not impress this woman.

“Then she will want for nothing else,” the duchess declared, her smile warm. “Please, sit down. We have many things to discuss, for there is much I wish to learn about you, Dante Leighton.” Helping the twins to hop down from the window seat, she sent them to play on the carpet. She placed the serinette safely out of reach of small, eager hands, then made herself comfortable on the sofa, carefully spreading out her skirts. Dante closed his eyes, feeling almost incapable of carrying on as usual. It was still difficult for him to comprehend that
this
was Rhea's mother. Had he harbored doubts about taking Rhea for his wife, they vanished. The wheel of fortune had come full circle. His meeting with Rhea had been preordained. Nothing would ever change his mind about that.

“Please, Lord Jacqobi, sit down. Your ankle must be paining you,” the duchess once again requested. “I shall have a brandy sent in for you, and perhaps a sherry for myself, although I expect you to do most of the talking,” she warned him, and Dante knew that although the duchess was an incredibly beautiful woman, Kirby was right. She was no fool.

“I have a small gift for you,” Dante said as he handed her the package.

A look of surprise crossed Sabrina's face, but she graciously accepted his gift. “Thank you, although 'tis quite unnecessary. But I must admit that I do love surprises,” she said with a dimpled smile which reminded him of Rhea's.

“'Tis nothing of great value compared with Your Grace's jewels, but I did not know what else to give a woman who seemed to have everything. As I pondered what Rhea had said about her mother, I thought you might appreciate this plunder from the sea,” Dante explained, feeling some of the nervousness his little steward had felt now that he awaited the duchess's reaction. She had every right to laugh in his face.

But Sabrina was no ordinary woman, and as she removed the layer of wrapping around the hardwood box, then opened the hinged lid, she gave a small cry of pleasure. Revealed to her admiring gaze were several exquisite shells, the likes of which she had never seen.

“Oh, beautiful,” she breathed in awe, and her voice attracted the attention of the twins, who came tottering over.

“They are quite common in the Indies,” Dante said modestly, although he was pleased by her reaction.

“Oh, they could never be common, Lord Jacqobi,” the duchess contradicted. “This one looks like a sunrise, for the swirling colors are golden pink. And this one would get the tangles out of my hair.” She laughed as she held a cream-tinted shell with spiny teeth along its curved edge.