Duchess Beware (Secrets & Scandals Book 2) (16 page)

Feeling some of the heaviness lift from her shoulders, Silver reached out and took her aunt’s hand.  “I needed to hear that, thank you,” she said, giving the small, blue-veined hand a squeeze. “I am so glad you’re here with me.”

“You are welcome, child.  Now, we should proceed to dinner.  I shall like nothing above seeing the look on Anne Claiborne’s face when she finds your bum parked in the duchess’ chair.”

Silver chuckled and rose to her feet.  “You are impossible.”

“Indeed.”

Then, realizing her aunt had called the dowager by name, Silver narrowed her eyes.  On the ship, Prudence had admitted to knowing Daniel’s grandfather.  “You’ve met the dowager duchess?”

“Unfortunately.”  Prudence heaved a sigh.  “I knew her many years ago.”

Silver closed her eyes.  “And you didn’t like each other?”

“We utterly loathed each other.”

A small moan escaped her lips and she opened her eyes.  If the dowager disliked her before, the woman would probably hate her after seeing Prudence.  “Why didn’t you mention this sooner?  I never would have asked you to come here under these circumstances.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t wish you to brave the lion’s den alone.”

Seeing the small gleam of suppressed excitement in Prudence’s eyes, Silver realized her aunt had wanted to come.  She shook her head, hiding a smile.  “We really must go to dinner now, but later, I shall like to hear how it is you know the dowager.”

“Of course.”

Larkin met them at the drawing room door with a bow.  “Your Grace, my lady.  His Grace sends his regrets that he cannot conclude the meeting with his house-steward at this time and insists you begin dinner without him.”  He then led them to the opulent dining room, opened the door, and bowed as they walked past.

The dowager had seated herself at the duchess’ chair and Torie—looking ill with worry—sat to the left of the duke’s chair.  Isabella dared to occupy the right of Daniel’s chair, Charity and Sabrina sat beside Isabella, leaving no room for Silver to sit next to her husband.  Thankfully, all the grandmothers were at the opposite end with the dowager duchess.

When Torie made a move to rise, her grandmother snapped, “Sit, Victoria.”

Prudence straightened, and just as she started to protest, Silver spoke up.  “I do believe I’d much rather sit than stand and eat.  Come, Aunt.  You take the seat between Torie and me.”

Seeing her sister-in-law’s relief, Silver knew she’d done the right thing.  Even though her mouth watered with the opportunity to remind the room exactly whom Daniel had married, she couldn’t forget how Torie had come to her rescue earlier in the solarium.  No, she’d hold her tongue and keep peace, at least for now.  But, oh, how she yearned to pluck Anne Claiborne from that chair and shake some sense into the disagreeable woman.

During the fourth course of partridge in red wine and mushroom gravy, Daniel entered the dining room.  He came to an abrupt halt, his brows knitting as he observed their seating arrangement.

“Grandmother, you—”

“Daniel, do come sit down,” Silver interrupted.

Torie choked and swiftly looked up to gage his reaction.  Silver paid her sister-in-law little attention as she watched him walk slowly toward his chair.  He hesitated from taking his seat and frowned, then surprised the entire room when he moved to sit beside Silver.

He leaned over.  “You do realize, a wife should never command a husband.  ‘Tis the other way around,” he stated after nodding to the nearby footman.

Silver waited until the man finished arranging Daniel’s place setting before commenting.  “If you had wanted a submissive wife, then you should have married one,” she said, stabbing a mushroom with her fork.

“Spitfire,” he whispered from the corner of his mouth as a servant filled his plate.

****

The hunter gulped down his wine then threw the empty bottle across the room.  The glass connected with the wall and shattered, sending jagged shards in various sizes across the floor.  If he didn’t get the bitch soon, he was going to die.  The need for revenge pulsated through his veins and grew more insistent with every beat of his heart.

Sweat dotted his forehead and he mopped it away with the back of his shaking hand.  Seeking revenge had grown into an addiction, like an opium addict.  He had to do it, find more, and do it again.  He had to.

He lowered his hand.  But the whore was slipping through his fingers.  He could feel his opportunity withering away.  If he didn’t strike soon, he’d not be able to strike at all.  Never before did he have to let one go.  Never!

His fist came down hard on the table, a snarl erupting from his lips.  His plan, his perfect plan, could no longer come to pass.  The girl he needed was dead.  Gone.  Cut to pieces and burned, the charred bones crushed to dust and scattered to the four winds among the trees and leaves.  He had needed her to play a duchess for a while.  Just long enough to take his true prey.

So now he needed a new plan.

With a sigh, he reached for another bottle of wine.

A knock sounded just as he brought the bottle to his lips.  Giving the wood a scowl, he called to enter.

“Goodness, what happened in here?” Katrina asked, stepping over the broken glass littering the floor.

As she drew closer, a new plan formed in his mind.  A wonderful, exciting new plan.  He set the bottle back on the table and rose, anticipation sweeping away his foul mood.  “I need you to do something for me.”

She tipped her face up, eyes narrowed.  “And what would that be?”

“Come,” he pulled out a chair, “have a seat and I’ll tell you.”

Chapter Fourteen

Silver eyed the buxom French woman standing before her, muscles tense, ready to bolt if necessary.  The calculation in the woman’s stare made her nervous, uneasy.  She could not believe Daniel had sent for the posh couturiere all the way from London just to make her a few dresses.  She couldn’t even recall the last new dress she owned.  All her clothes were pieced together cast-offs.  Even that so-called wedding dress Caroline provided had been two old dresses of Katrina’s pieced together.

After several more minutes of enduring Madame Deveraux’s obsidian-eyed scrutiny, Silver couldn’t take any more.  She opened her mouth to complain when Madame turned around and spouted orders to the group of dress makers behind her.  The women scurried to the trunks the servants had brought in.  Yards of silk, linen, velvet, faille, taffeta, and organdy were pulled from the trunks.  And each fabric seemed to come in fifty different colors.

Madame Devereux snapped her fingers and spoke rapidly to her assistants.  She wanted every shade of green and red taken out of the trunks, as well as the darker blues and purples.  Then Madame nodded to the two remaining ladies at her side, and they moved forward with a measuring tape in their hands.

As the two measured, the dressmaker draped different materials and colors over Silver’s shoulder.  Sometimes it took the woman just a couple of seconds to decide whether or not to use the material.  Other times, the couturiere would stare for several minutes with a finger tapping her painted lips.

Silver marveled at the efficiency of the group.  When two of the ladies had finished measuring, one joined the cutters, the other joined the sewers.  And just in time for dinner the next day, she had her first new gown.  Sliding her arms into the cool, emerald silk sleeves, she could hardly contain her excitement.

Madame Devereux nodded in approval as an assistant fastened the buttons.  “Ah, much better, no?”

The silk felt like heaven against her skin.  Much, much better than her old, scratchy dresses.  Silver glanced at the dressmaker with a smile and nodded. “Oh, indeed.  Thank you, Madame.”

The lady’s dark eyes widened.  “You speak French very well, Your Grace.  You were born in France, no?”

“No, Madame, but I was fortune enough to have learned your beautiful language from an instructor.”

“He taught you exceptionally well, Your Grace,” Madame Devereux replied with a nod.  Then she turned to her assistants and snapped her fingers.  “Remember, ladies, we must depart for London in a fortnight.  I want no less than four more gowns by then.”

“Five gowns?” Silver said with a gasp.  “You’re making me five gowns?”  She never thought to own so many lovely dresses.

“Rest assured, Your Grace,” Madame Devereux stated quickly, “after we return to London, the others will be delivered to you as soon as possible, I promise.”

She swallowed another gasp.  “Others?”

The couturiere nodded, drawing her pencil-thin brows together.  “His Grace ordered that you have twenty-five, including three riding habits.”  A slight frown pulled at her ruby lips.  “Is that not enough?”

“Oh, no, no, it’s not that.”  Silver shook her head.  “I think it’s too much.”

Madame Devereux released a throaty chuckle.  “Ah, Your Grace, surely you jest.”

She opened her mouth to reply when Molly appeared before her, a hair brush in hand.  “Oh, Your Grace, you are such a vision.”

“Truly?” she asked, turning toward the floor-length mirror across the room.

The maid halted her.  “Please, Your Grace, allow me to arrange your hair first.”

She shrugged and sat carefully on one of the room’s cushioned chairs, trying not to wrinkle her new gown, and listened to the women chatter as they worked.  She could hardly believe it.  Twenty-five gowns.  Twenty-five new gowns of beautiful, vibrant colors.

As soon as Molly finished her hair, Silver stood and started for the mirror, aware the chatter had ceased.  Halting a few feet from the reflective glass, she took a deep breath and lifted her head.  Then gasped.  That beautiful reflection could not belong to her.  The gown followed her curves, flattering instead of hiding them.  Her hair flowed down to her waist in gentle waves, the sides held up by her mother’s pearl-encrusted combs Duncan had given her before she left Scotland.  For once, she didn’t look a big, clumsy buffoon. She looked like a…a…a duchess.

“Are you sure I look all right, Molly?” Silver asked nervously, moving her sweaty palms down the sides of the soft gown.  She needed to hear the confirmation, to be certain her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

The maid smiled.  “You look beautiful, Your Grace.  His Grace will swallow his tongue when he sees you.”

After thanking everyone for creating the lovely gown, Silver left the room and walked down the stairs.  With her confidence bolstered, she moved a bit faster, anxious to gauge Daniel’s reaction.  Would he think her beautiful?  She certainly hoped so.

At the bottom of the stairs, Silver noticed a man speaking to Victoria.  He resembled Daniel, yet he was leaner and younger.  She slowed her steps, not wanting to interrupt.

He turned toward her and his mouth dropped open.

Smiling, Torie stepped forward.  “Since Daniel hasn’t come downstairs yet, I’ll introduce you.”  She turned to the man.  “Andrew, please meet Daniel’s new wife, Silver.  Silver, this is your brother-in-law, Lord Andrew.”

Recovered, Lord Andrew gave her a wide smile and stepped forward.  He took her hand and kissed the knuckles.  “This is a most rare pleasure, Your Grace,” he stated then straightened.

Unable to recall if she needed to curtsy, Silver bit the inside of her lip. 
Oh, rot!
  He would think her an idiot. 
Say something, you fool.
  “Yes, a pleasure.”  She released her breath when he didn’t seem to notice her odd behavior.

A bell sounded, and Lord Andrew turned to her.  “Since my dolt of a brother is foolish enough to let you out of his presence for even a minute, may I escort you in?”  He extended his hand, and Silver placed hers over it.  Then, holding his other hand out to Victoria, he led them into the drawing room.

Prudence, the dowager and the dowager’s guests were gathered in the room and fell silent as soon as Silver, Andrew, and Victoria walked in.  For the first time in eight years, she didn’t feel like an aberration.  She no longer stood among her betters, she thought, lifting her chin a notch, she stood among her equals.

Spying her aunt, she excused herself and moved forward. 

Prudence rose from the sofa, her eyes gleaming with approval.  “You look lovely, Silver,” she stated and turned to the dowager as though awaiting some reaction.

Daniel’s grandmother ignored them both.  “Andrew, I am surprised to see you.  I thought you were going to remain in London a while longer.”

Andrew bowed over his grandmother’s hand and straightened.  “I had intended to, Gran.”  His glance slid sideways.  “Until I learned of our extended family.”

Anne’s hand rose to her throat.  “Dear God, Daniel hasn’t announced it, has he?”

Andrew shrugged.  “I cannot say.  He had a letter delivered to me.”  He paused and frowned.  “Why does it matter?”

The dowager clasped her hands together before her and lowered her voice.  “It’s bound to cause a scandal.  You know hasty marriages always do.”

The condemnation slid all the way down to her toes.  Silver did not want to cause this family any sort of embarrassment.  She should have known their hasty marriage would do just that, but when Daniel had walked through the church doors and she realized his intent, Society’s reaction hadn’t entered her mind.

“I just pray the scandal will not ruin Victoria’s reputation,” the dowager continued, making Silver’s breath catch.  “For the first time since my come-out, I shall miss a season.  Thankfully, it’s just the little season.  But we cannot possibly show our faces until spring.  Perhaps by then, the wagging tongues will have abated some.”

Silver glanced down to study the tips of her green satin sandals peeking out of the hem of her new dress.  She hadn’t realized how her actions could affect Torie.  What would she do if she had ruined the girl’s reputation as the dowager suggested?

Walking into the room, Daniel glanced up and came to an abrupt stop when he saw his wife.  The beauty he knew Silver possessed beneath her usual drab clothing had finally been revealed.  Besides following her body’s splendid curves, the deep green of the gown enhanced her features, bringing radiance to the red tresses flowing down her shoulders and a glow to her creamy skin.

He frowned, suddenly realizing how much skin the dress exposed for all to see—completely forgetting it to be modest compared to current fashion—and decided he didn’t like it.  Nor did he like how his brother’s ruddy eyes kept roving to his wife like some hungry wolf.

He marched forward, halting directly before Silver.  “Surely, madam, you didn’t order the gown to be so revealing?” He glanced at the peachy swells of flesh subtly rising from the emerald silk.

The smile spreading over her lips when she saw him enter the room fled.  Anger ignited in her eyes as a red flush crept up her neck to cover her cheeks.  “Of course not.”  She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.  “You did.”  Then she turned her back to him and began a conversation with Torie concerning Voltaire’s quotation that
men use thought only to justify their wrongdoings, and speech only to conceal their thoughts
.

Daniel heaved a sigh, feeling like an ass.  He didn’t have the slightest inkling how to go about undoing his horrid behavior.

Two hours crawled by and his wife still ignored him.  God’s truth, he detested being ignored.  Especially by Silver.  All throughout dinner, she hadn’t said one ruddy word to him.  Not one.  Instead, he suffered through Isabella’s long-winded speech about her new Adelaide boots and matching muff, then Sabrina’s mewling about the proper reticule to carry all her necessities, as well as Charity’s obtuse comments in between.  Enough to drive a person mad.  Completely, utterly mad.

With another sigh, he glanced down the yards of table and watched Silver.  Dash it all, she had her attention fixed on his brother, engrossed in a conversation.  Another reason for his dark mood.  Andrew was painfully shy around women.  So where the deuce had that shyness gone now?

Once dinner ended, Daniel leaped to his feet, nearly upsetting his chair.  Everyone turned to him in surprise.  He cleared his throat.  “Pray, Andrew, I must pass on the after-dinner port.”  He walked to Silver’s side.  “May I have a word with you?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she stood and followed him from the room.

As soon as they were out of the dining room, she spun around with her hands on her hips, her eyes shooting sparks.  “What is wrong with you, Daniel?”

His answer stunned him.  He’d been jealous.  Jealous of his own brother.  But he’d not admit that to Silver.  Instead, something else popped into his mind and he smiled, damned glad he’d thought of it.

Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips and tenderly grazed her knuckles.  “Pray, forgive my rudeness earlier, sweet.”  He straightened.  “I have a surprise for you.”

Her eyes widened, the anger draining from her features.  “Another surprise?” she whispered, patting the sleeve of her new dress.  “For me?”

Daniel nodded.  Her reaction attested to the fact she hadn’t been given much in the way of gifts in recent years.  “Come,” he stated gruffly, for that thought bothered him, and led her down the hall.  Once again, he cursed her cruel guardians.

Knowing the room would be dark, Daniel took a lamp and entered the library.  After setting the lamp on the nearby table, he walked to the ladder, slid it along the bookshelf, then climbed several steps until he found the right book.  After removing the thick leather tome, he took the filigree key from his pocket and placed it into the lock hidden behind the book.  A secret door to his left slid open.  He stepped off the ladder and entered the chamber filled with Huntington’s most precious and valuable artifacts.

When he turned and found that Silver hadn’t followed him, he stepped back into the library.  She stood exactly where he’d left her in the dim room, mouth hanging open, glancing this way and that.  He grinned and placed the long, silver box he’d retrieved from the vault in her hands, anxious to witness her reaction.  “Here, darling, open this.  It’s just one of a thousand such trinkets in there.  And they’re all yours now.”

She blinked several times.  Daniel held his breath.  Slowly, she opened the box, peeked inside, then closed it again and glanced back at the shelves.  He frowned, expecting a different response.  The emerald and diamond necklace had been one of his mother’s favorites.  “Well?  What do you think of the necklace?” he asked.

“What?  Oh, it’s nice.”  She handed the box back to him then moved closer to the books.  Squinting at some of the titles, she stroked the leather spines as though they were the greatest treasures on earth.  And he became aware of what had happened.  Good Lord, the ruddy books held more value to her than the famous Huntington jewels.

Straightening his shoulders, he moved up behind her.  The sweet smell of roses filled him.  He closed his eyes and enfolded her within his embrace, his body hardening as her warmness pressed against him.  He groaned softly and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.