Duchess Beware (Secrets & Scandals Book 2) (28 page)

Running from the pain he felt at thinking she had betrayed him.

Something unfurled within Silver.  It chased away the bitter unhappiness and uncovered the love she had tried to bury deep beneath the hurt.

But dare she believe Daniel?  Dare she believe he truly loved her and that this was no act?

Then another thought came, and she closed her eyes to try and block out how miserable it made her feel.  The night of her debut, she could have denied Daniel’s assumption of her unfaithfulness.  Things might have been sorted out then.  But instead of denying his claim, she had confirmed it.  She gave him even more reason to believe she acted like his mother.  All because of her rotten wish to make him suffer as much as she suffered.

It seemed she had had her wish all along.

Silver opened her eyes.  She looked from Daniel’s back, down the length of floor between them, to the bedding tucked around her body.  She pulled the bedding aside.  Placing her feet on the large Persian rug, she rose and found her legs shaky and much weaker than she would have liked at the moment.  But she would go to her husband.  She would stand before him and look deep into his eyes to make certain she made the right decision.  After two wobbly steps, she reached the bed post and latched onto it as the room started to spin.  Fortunately, her dizziness lasted only a few seconds.

Two more steps brought her inches behind him, and Silver had to resist touching him.  “You truly love me?”

He spun around, and she knew the end of her strength.  She would have hit the floor had Daniel not caught her.  He engulfed her in his arms, pressing her snugly against his chest.  “God help me, I do,” he whispered, his breath stirring her hair.

His heart thundered against hers, and she realized his arms shook.  She eased her head back to see if he spoke the truth.  He stared down earnestly, but with a bit of fear, and tears glazed his eyes.  Every doubt she had of his truthfulness evaporated in that instant.  She inhaled his familiar scent, wishing he would never remove his arms.  “Then I accept your apology.”

His arms tightened around her.  “Does that mean you’ll stay with me?”

The hope that sprang to his eyes brought tears to hers.  “Yes, I’ll stay.”

As his face crumpled with relief, he pulled her back to him.  “Thank you,” he said gruffly then cleared his throat.  “You shouldn’t be out of bed, wife.”

Silver smiled.  She opened her mouth, about to insist he take her back to bed, when a thought occurred.  Leaning back, she watched his relief dissolve into worry.  “Tell me—and it must be the truth—about Susanna Davenport.”  She had to know the whole of it.

He grimaced.  “Contrary to popular belief, I didn’t sleep with her.”

Silver tried to pull away, but he held her to him.

“I promise, I didn’t.”  His gaze never wavered.  “I’d just returned to London after finding Victor’s note when I met Susanna.  I won’t lie and say I didn’t try to—” He frowned. “—but all I could think about was you.”  He lifted his hand and skimmed a finger down her cheek, his eyes following his finger’s progress.  “How soft your skin is.”  He moved up to trace her eyebrow.  “How beautiful you are,” he whispered, his finger outlining the shape of her lips, making them tingle.  “How much I missed kissing you.”  His steadfast emerald gaze delved into hers.  “How much I love you.”

“Oh, Daniel,” she whispered, capturing his face between her hands.  He spoke the truth!  “I love you, too.”

Relief poured into his eyes just before he lowered his head and brushed her lips with his.  Silver slid her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.  The kiss grew hot and deep in seconds.

He leaned back, his chest heaving.  “Come, darling, you’ve been ill.  You must return to bed.”

Although disappointed, she had to admit she had little strength left.  Weakness had settled into her bones, making them heavy.  With reluctance, she allowed her husband to help her back into bed.

Just before drifting off to sleep, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she and the babe were well, that Daniel loved her and wanted her to remain with him always, and that Victor Merrick would never again bother her.

Chapter Twenty-five

“The Duke and Duchess of Huntington!”

Silver could hardly draw in a breath as the din in the elegant ballroom ceased abruptly and all heads swiveled in her direction.  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.  Echoes died into a piercing silence as the entire sea of people simply stood there and gawked.  Perhaps she should have stayed abed longer.  Then she and Daniel wouldn’t have traveled to London three days ago, nor would they be here.  Yet, the thought of staying in bed even one more day made her shudder.  At the moment, however, she couldn’t decide which was worse, here or in bed.

With her attention so fixed on the gaping audience, Silver nearly jumped when Daniel spoke softly into her ear.  “Relax, darling, they aren’t going to stare forever.”

All she could manage was a jerky nod, and he squeezed her hand then led her beyond the butler and down the stairs into the crowded room.  He brought her to their hosts, a tall man well above his fortieth year with thinning light-brown hair and a petite lady with the roundest blue eyes Silver ever saw.

“My lord, my lady, I present my wife, Sylvia Claiborne, the Duchess of Huntington.”  He turned.  “Silver, meet Paul and Eleanor Crofton, the Earl and Countess of Havenshire.”

She managed a smile and greeted the couple cordially, even though she wanted to turn and run.  These were Isabella’s parents, who gave this little soirée in honor of their daughter’s recent engagement to Viscount Ridley.  And according to what Megan had told her yesterday at tea, an engagement Isabella fought hard against.

At first, Silver didn’t wish to attend, but her husband managed to convince her otherwise.  He’d stated he wanted everyone to witness how much he cared for his wife.  He also explained that attending Isabella’s betrothal party would trivialize all the rumors the chit had started, stemming the wagging tongues quite nicely.

None of that mattered to Silver.  She would have gladly stayed in Huntington and not given the
ton
another fleeting thought.  But then Daniel mentioned Torie, and she changed her mind. He explained his behavior at her debut had not only darkened her reputation, but Torie’s as well, and he wanted to set things right.  Even though she didn’t give a fig about her reputation, she cared greatly about her sister-in-law’s.  So she had agreed to spend the last two weeks of the little season in London.

God help her.

As they progressed farther into the throng of heavily perfumed people, Silver concentrated on keeping in step with her husband.  She ignored the gasps and whispers, the pointing and snapping open of fans, as they moved to the rear of the room. 
Dear Lord, please let this night pass quickly.
  It reminded her way too much of her debut.

“Silver, I’m so glad the headache that threatened to develop yesterday didn’t.”

She turned and smiled her first genuine smile of the evening.  “Megan.  Evie.  How good to see you both.”

Evie grinned, then sobered quickly.  “Are you feeling better?  I heard how ill you’ve been.”

Silver waved her hand.  “Just a bit of fever.  I am completely fit now,” she answered, ignoring her husband’s grunt to the contrary.

After Daniel greeted Megan and Evie, he turned back to her.  “Darling, I am going to be just there.”  He nodded toward the group of men to their left.  “I won’t be long.”  Then he gifted her with one of his special smiles, making her heart jolt, kissed her hand—a bit longer than he ought—and walked to his friends.

“Silver, where’s Torie?” Megan asked.

“Hmmm?”  She turned from watching her husband’s progress, her cheeks tingling when she realized she’d been caught ogling. 

Her friend just smiled in understanding and repeated her question. 

“Torie, Grandmother, and Aunt Prudence rode in a separate carriage.  They will arrive any moment.”

“I must say, I thought it was going to take a bit longer for the dowager duchess to come to her senses and accept you into the family.”  Megan paused and took her hands for a moment.  “But I am ever so glad she did.”

Both Megan and Evie smiled warmly at her and she had the sudden urge to cry. 
How ridiculous. 
She blinked back the tears and gave a little sniff.  “I am so fortunate to have friends like you.”

“And me, pet, am I among the blessed you call friends?”

Silver felt her lips curve up.  Jeremy.  As she started to turn, she caught Evie’s pained expression, then her friend hurried away.  How odd.  She slid a questioning gaze to Megan, but became even more confused to find those lovely violet eyes stabbing the man a look of pure indignation.

Suspicious, Silver faced Jeremy.  “What on earth have you done?”

A slow, lazy smile spread over his lips.  “Now pet, what makes you think I’ve done anything?”

The snort coming from beside her was answer enough.  She narrowed her eyes.  “Let’s just say I have a keen perception of the obvious.”

Jeremy’s hazel gaze shifted to Megan.  “Ah, another beautiful duchess.”  His smile widened when her expression grew even more turbulent.  “Careful, sweet, scowling will make you ugly.”

“Go to Bath, Lord Fielding.”

“Dreadfully boring, I’m afraid,” he drawled then stepped closer to Megan.  “Now, if you were to come with me…?”

“Not a chance in hell,” a deep, angry voice sounded from behind.  Nicholas marched forward, looking ready to do murder.

With a sigh, he turned to her.  “What about you, my captivating pet, care to—”

“Absolutely not.”  Daniel slid a protective arm around her waist.  “Silver is my wife and is staying right here with me.  Forever.  Go find your own wife to take to Bath, Fielding.”

The grimace on Jeremy’s face caused everyone to laugh, easing the tension.  Obviously, the poor man didn’t relish the idea of matrimonial bliss.

After a few minutes, Jeremy excused himself to return to his ‘exotic Russian ballerina’ and bade them all farewell.  Then he turned to her and brought her hand up to his lips.  “It’s good to see you happy, Silver,” he stated softly, winked outrageously at her, and disappeared into the crowd.

Frowning, she watched him leave.  When Daniel and Nicholas began discussing the last Queen’s Race, she turned to Megan.  “Why do you dislike Jeremy so?”

“It’s because of what he did to Evie,” her friend answered angrily.

Stunned, she raised her brows.  “Evie?  What did he do to her?”

“He broke their betrothal and her heart at the same time.”

Silver’s breath caught.  What a horrible thing to have happen to her dear friend.  Just as she was about to ask more questions, Torie, Prudence, and Anne joined them.

Evie returned a moment later, right as Nicholas began to speak.  “Pray, I have something to tell all of you,” he said to their small assemblage with a grin that spread from one ear to the other.  His hand came around Megan’s waist and drew his wife closer to his side before he continued.  “Megan is blessing me with our first child.”

Everyone congratulated the two.

“And quite a coincidence,” Daniel said with a grin that matched Nicholas’s, lifting Silver’s hand to his lips.

Megan gasped.  “You too?”

She smiled and nodded as the men thumped one another on the back, hardy laughter erupting from them both.  Both acted like proud peacocks, she thought and shook her head.

The first strings of a waltz floated across the room, and her smile fled.  She shivered, unable to suppress the memory of her wretched debut.  Her mouth went dry and she clutched her hands together, wishing she were anywhere else at the moment.

Daniel turned to her, and Silver knew every eye in the room was back on her.  She held her breath as he gave a low bow.  “Will you honor me with this dance, my love?” he asked and held out his hand.

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

Unable to believe he had called her his love in front of everyone, Silver placed her hand in his, praying he wouldn’t notice how it shook.  He held her much too close as he whirled her around the room, but she no longer cared what those people thought.  She simply closed her eyes, breathed in Daniel’s scent, and relaxed against him.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear as the waltz came to an end much too soon.  Then he turned to the onlookers.  “In case you didn’t hear that, I said I love my wife.”

Chatter broke out as Silver pulled back to look at her husband.  Seeing the love shining in his eyes, she smiled, certain her eyes mirrored his.  “I love you, too.”

Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

****

The hunter brought the fragrant wine to his lips and sipped slowly.  Thoughts of his wife plagued him, yet at the same time they intoxicated him as much as the four glasses of port he’d just consumed.

“Fran,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

He could see her standing there before him.  Hair the rich color of a ruby, soft and full of waves.  Her skin smooth and light as fresh cream, her eyes a deep blue.  She had full lips, so silky and pink.  God, how he loved to kiss her, to imbibe on her ripe peach taste.  To hear the throaty purr of her laughter.

With a shudder, he opened his eyes and gulped back his wine.  He placed the empty glass on the wooden table beside a single red rose, then he stood and paced the room.

The hunter paused before the window overlooking the darkened garden below.  Fog blanketed the ground.  He could see the misty gray wisps collecting, growing thicker as the night wore on.

The room rang out with emptiness.  Loneliness shrouded him like an iron maiden, making him cold and hollow inside.  He gnashed his teeth at the thought of spending another night alone.  Anger threatened to spill over into rage as he considered how his wife spent this evening.  While he remained alone in an empty house, she would spread her legs for that nobleman.  Hunt, something?  Ah, yes, Huntington.  The Duke of Huntington.

He pulled the gleaming six inch blade, Vengeance, from his coat.  The light of the fireplace reflected on the surface of the cold, gray steel.  He turned the handle slowly from side to side.  Then he tested the edge with his thumb, the sharpness biting into his flesh.  A bead of crimson welled up, reminding him of his wife’s hair.  Slowly, he brought his thumb up to his mouth.

He set Vengeance down on the table beside him and took a deep breath.  His anger abated, and his head began to clear.  He must not lose control.  Not yet.  His wrath could not be unleashed until he had them under his power.  Fran and her lover.

At least they would have their guard down, he thought, as a smile spread across his lips.  Indeed, those fools had captured the wrong man.  A low chuckle rumbled up his throat.

So, Fran and that duke thought they were safe, did they?  He removed the ruby tuft of hair from his pocket and twirled it around.  Punishing his wife and her lover would be much, much easier now.  He looked forward to every blessed second of it.

It was time to finish his plan.