by Shana Galen
Finally, when she was beginning to doze, he moved away, lifted her, and carried her to the bed. She hadn’t been carried like this since she was a small child, and it felt so sweet and made her feel cherished and loved. He tucked her under the sheets, and she waited for him to join her so she could wrap her arms around him and lay her head on his chest. She’d seen her mother do that to her father once when she was very young. One of her brothers had been very sick and both of her parents had been by his side for the better part of two days and nights. When her brother finally showed signs of improvement, her parents had gone to the duchess’s room and lay on her bed, both fully clothed. Her father had put his arm around her mother, who had rested her cheek on his chest.
It was an image she’d never forgotten and one she had thought of often both before and after her marriage.
But Colin didn’t come to bed. Finally, she rose on her elbows and looked about the room, expecting to see him banking the fire or washing at the basin. But the room was empty but for her.
He’d left her alone.
As usual.
Sixteen
Colin’s hands shook and his skin felt clammy. He’d retreated to the small chamber nearby, suitable for valet or lady’s maid, locked the door, and sat on the cot in his dressing robe, trying to calm himself. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d done what any number of men in London were doing tonight. He’d done what he’d been wanting to do for longer than he could remember.
He’d enjoyed it—and maybe that was the problem. He’d thought it would be more like the first time, except Daphne would get some pleasure out of it this time. He hadn’t been prepared for the way he’d felt. Emotions had welled up inside him faster than he could tamp them back down. He hadn’t realized that being with her like that would be such an intimate experience. And he hadn’t realized, until he was buried deep inside her and she was looking at him with adoration—no, it was love; he could admit it since she already had—that he didn’t know what to do with her feelings.
He could have accepted them as a gift. She’d surely intended them that way, but it didn’t seem right when he had nothing to give in return.
And that was when the truly shocking realization hit him. He cared for her, deeply. It was far more than the sort of husbandly affection one should have for one’s wife. It was more than wanting to keep her safe or wanting to make sure she was satisfied. It was something that made his entire chest ache. And she’d seen it. He knew she’d seen the moment he’d realized it, and her seeing it had made it real. Her seeing the depth of his emotions terrified him because if he really cared for her, if he—dare he say it—loved her, she could hurt him. What if she died like his mother? What if she rejected his love, cut him down and made him bleed?
He’d struggled to recover himself and then had his composure completely ripped apart again by the most amazing orgasm he’d ever experienced. He didn’t have much experience, truth be told, but he hadn’t expected it to feel like that.
And even now, while his hands trembled and his chest fought to expand, he wanted to go to her. He wanted to hold her and tell her she had never done anything to displease him. That he hadn’t left, he hadn’t stayed away, because of her. It was never because of her.
But he didn’t trust himself now. He didn’t know how he would feel or react the more time he spent with her. He needed to go back to keeping his distance from her. The greater the distance between them, the quicker his feelings would fade. He wouldn’t need her quite so much or want her quite so desperately. It was better for him to sleep in this small chamber, not beside her. Colin blew out the lamp and made himself as comfortable as he could on the cot. He closed his eyes and saw Daphne’s face then heard the sound of his mother’s rattling cough in his memory.
When Colin rose early the next morning, he remembered the dreams of his mother. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what they meant. When his mother had died, he’d completed the process of closing himself to any and all feeling. He’d numbed himself because the pain had simply hurt him too much.
He remembered hearing her coughing and coughing and coughing, and it seemed with every fit that wracked her body, some of his love for her drained away.
He did also realize that just because he’d loved and lost the only person he’d deeply and completely loved didn’t mean that he’d lose someone else he loved like that. If he allowed himself to love Daphne, it would not cause her to become ill and die. But as logical as he could be about it, there was still a risk. And Colin had long ago decided he wouldn’t risk his heart again. Many men were married to women they treated with fondness and respect. One didn’t have to love one’s wife to have a happy marriage. He could make this work and keep Daphne happy without giving her every piece of him. Both of their hearts would be much safer, less prone to breaking, with an arrangement like that. After all, he didn’t want to break her heart any more than he wanted to risk his own.
He went back to the master bed chamber and found his valet waiting. It was barely ten, early for a lady like Daphne to rise, but the chamber appeared otherwise empty. “Where is Lady Daphne?” he asked.
Jacobs straightened the sleeve of the coat he’d laid out. “I believe she went down to break her fast, sir. Are you ready to dress?
So much for climbing into bed with her so she wouldn’t know he hadn’t been there all night.
“Yes. I’ll dress and join her. Make it quick, Jacobs.”
“Oh, good. We are in a hurry.”
Jacobs did dress him quickly. Colin wasn’t one to fuss over his attire and poor Jacobs was rarely called upon to use his creative talents. “Sir, do you remember when you asked me to loiter about the Earl of Battersea’s town house?”
Colin turned his head sharply to look at Jacobs who tsked at him and started straightening the coat of his shoulder all over again. “You learned something interesting?”
“Initially, no. I found what I’d expected. He treats his servants abominably. More than one maid has left his service with a bellyful.”
“But then?” Colin prodded as Jacobs tied his cravat.
“Then his staff mentioned that men often came to the earl. Men with particular tastes. The earl seemed to enjoy the challenge of finding a woman to meet the man’s requirements, if you will.”
Colin shook his head and Jacobs gave him such a severe frown, he stilled. “So he’s a pimp?”
“I don’t think these women were necessarily willing. That might be part of the challenge.”
Colin felt his lip lift in disgust. “So he’s abducting virgins and providing them to men for amusement.”
Jacobs nodded. “If what the staff told me is true, it would seem so.”
Colin let out a breath. “You do know the problem with this information, Jacobs?”
“Yes, sir. The word of a servant will not hold up against the word of an earl.”
“Exactly. We’d have to catch him, which would be practically impossible. Fortunately, Battersea is a man of many crimes, and I have another I might be able to pin to him yet.”
“I do wish you luck, sir. Your cravat is adequate if you are still in a hurry. If not, I could do a much more attractive knot—”
“This is fine.” He strode out of the room and down the stairs to the dining room. The doors were open, and the scent of tea and toast and Daphne floated out to him. Though it wasn’t an appropriate topic for a lady, he was eager to tell her what he’d learned. “Daphne, I’ve learned of more nefarious doings on the Battersea’s part. What’s the matter?”
She merely looked at him, her blue eyes icy, her pink-clad, bow-lined shoulders straight as she deliberately set her tea cup on the saucer. “Why, nothing at all is wrong. What would ever give you that impression, husband?”
He knew better than to answer that question. He’d grown up with three sisters and knew what it meant when the room cooled three degrees after he walked in. Had he done something—
Ah, yes. Of course, he had.
Coli
n glanced at the footman, standing in the corner, pretending he hadn’t heard a thing. He hadn’t thought to ask where their servants came from. He’d supposed he would have to hire them, but when he’d arrived, the house had been fully staffed. The Duke of Warcliffe’s doing? Did that mean the servants reported to his father-in-law?
“What’s your name?” Colin asked the servant.
“James, sir.”
“James, you’re excused.”
“Excused, sir?” The footman’s eyes widened. “Have I done something wrong, sir?”
“No, you’re not being let go. You’re being told to go down to the kitchen. Or up to your room. Or anywhere that is not here.”
“Yes, sir.” James walked briskly through the servants’ door, and Colin took a seat opposite Daphne.
“You should have sent him away after he’d poured your tea,” she observed.
“I can pour my own tea,” he said.
She nibbled her toast. “It seems you are quite good at doing things on your own.”
“Daphne, are you angry about last night?”
She gave him a withering look. “Angry?” She pretended to consider. “Let’s see.” She held up a finger. “First, I reveal my most intimate feelings to you over dinner. Second, we return home after a rather harrowing evening, and we share possibly the most astonishing experience I have ever had.”
Colin winced, knowing where this was headed.
“Third, you carry me to bed and when I reach for you, you’re gone. Without even a good-bye. You might have simply left money on the dresser.”
Colin recoiled as if slapped. “You go too far.”
“Do I? That is how I felt. And I know it’s partly my fault. I knew you didn’t care about me and—”
“I do.”
She closed her mouth and stared at him.
“I do care about you. I left because I...” He didn’t know how to say it. How was he to tell her he’d been frightened, shaken, overwhelmed by what he’d been feeling? She was staring at him, waiting. And he didn’t know how to tell her. How to explain he was doing what was best for both of them?
The silence dragged on, and she sighed. Finally, she rose. “I have correspondence to attend to and am at home today.”
Colin wanted to groan. If she was at home that meant hordes of callers would descend on them. Everyone would want to see the new house and perhaps catch a glimpse of the ever-absent husband. Colin watched her glide out of the dining room and then did what any man of courage and mettle would do.
He fled.
THE AFTERNOON SEEMED to drag on as she chatted with one lady after another on the prescribed topics of the weather, fashion, and one’s general health. Lady Isabella and Lady Pavenley bemoaned the fact that they hadn’t seen Daphne at the most recent Society functions. They giggled and hinted that Mr. FitzRoy was keeping her too busy in their new bed chamber. More than one caller also mentioned that the Earl of Battersea had inquired after her. Apparently, he’d mentioned calling on her in her new town house. Daphne understood the threat. Battersea was coming for her. Daphne smiled and hid her pain and fear by focusing on her embroidery until finally, at long last, it was too late for morning calls.
Brown informed her Madame Renauld had sent the dress she’d ordered, and they took it out of the wrapping. Brown gasped with pleasure. “My lady, it is beautiful.”
Daphne stared at the dark blue dress, which was unadorned, and wondered. “It seems a bit plain,” she said.
“The color will make your eyes look even bluer than usual. It is a very good choice.”
“Yes, well, I’d rather it was pink, but Mr. FitzRoy and I have a meeting tonight, and I think a darker color would be more apropos.”
Brown frowned. “I hope it is nothing dangerous, my lady.”
“Of course not. Help me dress. He will be home shortly.”
Colin kept her waiting so long that she began to fear he would go meet Captain Gladwell without her. Finally, he returned home and looked quite surprised to see her in the foyer, waiting.
“We shouldn’t keep the captain waiting,” she said, while their butler helped her don her gray cloak. She had never thought she would wear it this often.
“No, we shouldn’t. Your dress—”
She looked down at the blue fabric before her cloak covered it. “What of it?”
“It’s not pink.”
“I ordered it from my modiste the other day. It just so happens I have need of darker dresses lately.”
“Yes.” His gaze swept over her, and she tried to ignore the heat that followed where his gaze touched. “It’s very nice.”
She gave a nod of acceptance. Odd, as she could not remember him ever having complimented one of her pink dresses before. A half hour later they were back at The Clipper. The same publican scowled at them when they entered, but this time he jerked his head toward a table in the corner where a white-haired man sat with what looked like a glass of sherry before him.
“Let me talk,” Colin said quietly. As they approached, the man stood, and Daphne noticed a cane leaning against the wall behind him.
“Captain Gladwell?” Colin asked.
The man nodded. “That’s me. You must be Mr. FitzRoy and Lady Daphne. We don’t see your kind in here very often,” he said, nodding at Daphne. She offered her gloved hand, and he bowed over it. “Please sit, and tell me to what I owe the honor of this visit.”
Colin and Daphne sat in chairs across from the captain. A serving girl, not the same one from yesterday but a younger one who seemed rather hurried, approached and asked if they would like something to eat or drink. Daphne opened her mouth to say yes to both, but Colin waved his hand. “No, we’re fine.”
“Thank you, Barbara.” Captain Gladwell smiled at the girl.
She was gone again in a moment.
“We understand you were captain for a ship called the Ranger.”
The captain stiffened. “I was. What of it?”
“We’re interested in that ship and its owner, the Earl of Battersea.”
“I can tell you it’s a sound ship. I’ve sailed it many times. It’s not the only ship I’ve sailed. I had a long career in His Majesty’s Navy. Now I hire out my services. I don’t know much about the owners. Their kind don’t deign to talk to me.” He drank the rest of his sherry. “Is that all?”
Daphne felt her heart sink. This was looking to be a complete waste of time. They’d been wrong in thinking Battersea ever directed the captain to alter his log or lie to the insurance company.
“Not yet,” Colin said, motioning for the captain to remain seated. “So you never spoke to the earl? You never discussed a voyage to Canada, one where gunpowder and silks were damaged by water?”
The captain looked at Daphne then back at Colin. “Why do you want to know? Do you work for the insurers?”
“No,” Colin said.
The captain rose. “Then I have nothing else to say on the matter.” He reached for his walking stick. Daphne stared at him. He obviously did not want to share what he knew about the Ranger and Battersea, but if he walked away, she had no other option to rid herself of Battersea. She jumped to her feet, scooted around the table, and put her hand on the captain’s arm.
“Sir, I know you don’t know me, but I promise you can trust me when I say my husband and I mean you no ill will. I am here out of desperation. I find myself in an...uncomfortable position with the earl. It is largely my fault. I acknowledge that, but the earl has not behaved like a gentleman. Thus, I’ve been forced to take matters into my own hands.”
The captain’s expression softened. “I am sorry to hear that. We all make mistakes from time to time.”
“And we must all face the consequences of those mistakes. The earl has consequences to face as well. Please, sit down. Look at these papers.” She glanced at Colin, hoping he was not angry she had taken over. But he was nodding his encouragement.
The captain allowed her to lead him back to his chair and then stared at
his own log entries when she removed them from her reticule and laid them on the table.
“How did you get these?” he asked.
Daphne raised a brow. “A lady cannot reveal all her secrets, sir.” She pointed to the entries. “These are the entries made on the days when the earl claimed pirates attacked his ship. You note the attack at the end of the log. But here, on these pages, you only mention a water leak that damaged the goods. You say nothing of pirates.”
The captain looked up at her. “Those pages were supposed to be destroyed.”
“Is that what the earl told you? But, of course, he kept them,” she said gently. “That way he could blackmail you later, if need be.”
The captain sat back. “What do you want from me?” His gaze traveled to Daphne then Colin.
“We want the truth,” Colin said. “Did pirates attack the Ranger?”
The captain smiled and shook his head. “I haven’t had a problem with pirates in thirty years. There might be some in the Mediterranean and a few hanging on near Barbados or Jamaica, but the heyday of pirates attacking ships on the shipping lanes of the Atlantic is long gone.”
“Then why did you write in the log that your ship—I’m sorry,” Daphne corrected, “the earl’s ship was attacked by pirates?”
“I think, my lady, you already know the answer to that. Money. It always comes down to money. He would receive more compensation if his ship was attacked and he lost the goods completely than if he claimed the truth. And we did sell what we could, at a reduced price, of course.”
“So the earl was paid for the goods and compensated for them by the insurers.” Colin pointed to the log entries. “This is illegal. You know that?”
“I know it, and I don’t like it. But it’s his word against mine. He’s an earl and I’m just a lowly captain. I said what he wanted me to say, wrote what he wanted me to write.” He looked up at Daphne, pity in his eyes. “I am sorry you are on the wrong side of him, my lady. He has a reputation for brutality when dealing with enemies.”
“I’m well aware, sir.”
