by Shana Galen
“You told me now.” She kissed him back, pulling him close. He was hers. She still couldn’t quite believe it, but she was beginning to hope.
Somewhere nearby a man cleared his throat. “This is quite touching, but perhaps we should move off the street before those ruffians return with friends.”
Daphne felt her cheeks heat. Colin helped her to her feet, tucking her close to his side.
“I hesitate to upset you again, my lady,” Jasper said, “but where is the Earl of Battersea?”
She pointed back the way she’d come. “He has a house. That’s where he took me. He tried to drug me with something he’d put in wine, but I switched the cups and drugged him. I don’t know how long it will last.”
“Then we’d better hurry,” Jasper said. “Show me the house, and I’ll fetch the magistrate.”
Daphne took a shaky breath. She could do this. She could walk back, show Colin and Lord Jasper where the house stood. Battersea couldn’t touch her now. Colin wouldn’t let him. She wouldn’t let him.
She stood, with Colin’s help. He put his hand on her back. “I’m here,” he said. “I won’t leave you.”
Daphne looked at him, seeing in his eyes that he meant every word. She nodded and took a deep breath, starting back the way she’d come. Her legs felt like jelly, and she needed Colin’s support. Then a child skipped into view.
“Found it!” Harley announced.
“Where the devil did you come from?” Colin asked.
“The nob’s house. I told you I ‘ave friends ‘ere. They showed me where it was. I went inside too. The nob is sleeping like a baby.” She gave Daphne a look of appreciation. “What did you do to ‘im, Yer Ladyship?”
“He did it to himself,” Daphne answered, relieved she wouldn’t have to go back to the house after all. She leaned into Colin, allowing him to support her.
“Do something useful and fetch the magistrate,” Jasper told Harley.
She gaped at him. “Wot you want ‘im for? I ain’t going near ‘im, not even for ten quid.”
“Never mind. I’ll fetch him,” Jasper said. He mounted his horse and rode away.
“I’d better go too,” Harley said.
“The offer is still open,” Colin called after her. “I’ll take you to the orphanage.”
“Naw, gov’. I like me freedom.”
Daphne leaned her head on Colin’s shoulder. “When this is done, we have to find her.”
“I knew you would say that.”
She stiffened suddenly. “I just remembered I lost Pugsly. He escaped when Battersea’s man grabbed me.”
“He’s safe at home,” Colin said. “I doubt my father will ever ask us to keep Pugsly again, though.”
“Well, I won’t tell if you won’t.”
Colin smiled. “Loyal to the end, I see. You never gave up on me, did you?” He pulled her close, looking down into her face. She forgot they were in the open, out on the street, when he held her like this.
“I gave up on you thousands of times, but as many times as I tried to stop loving you, I couldn’t.”
“Thank God for that.” He touched his forehead to hers. “It won’t be easy for you to trust me, to believe I won’t run off again.”
“There may be times it won’t be easy for you to stay. Times when you’ll want to run off.” She gave him a teasing look.
“From you? Never.”
She swatted him.
“But in all seriousness, you can trust that I love you, Daphne. And I’ll spend every day for the rest of our lives proving that to you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“There’s nothing I’d like better.” And he kissed her.
Twenty-One
“I cannot believe she had the nerve to show her face here,” Lady Pavenley said in a not so quiet whisper.
“She should be hiding her face in shame,” Lady Isabella agreed.
Daphne stepped out from the potted plant separating her from her former friends. It was the first ball she’d attended in a fortnight, and Colin had gone to fetch her a glass of champagne. Obviously, the gossip had been raging in her absence.
“Enjoying your evening?” she asked Lady Pavenley and Lady Isabella.
They both stiffened.
“I did hear you, in case you were wondering. But I don’t see why I should be ashamed.” She plucked at one of the pale blue bows adorning her sapphire blue dress. “It’s not my fault Battersea abducted me. And if he hadn’t, the information about the other women he took to that house and abused would not have come to light. Nor would Captain Gladwell have testified about the insurance fraud the earl perpetrated.” Daphne looked at her nails. “I do believe the Lords might just find the earl guilty of his crimes. And when that happens, my husband has promised to host a grand ball. I’ll tell him to take your names off the guest list.”
“Lady Daphne,” Lady Pavenley said, her tone placating. “I’m afraid you misunderstood.”
“No, I think you did,” Daphne said. “I never liked you—either of you—and I should have told you long before. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Mr. Murray a dance.”
“The Scotsman!” Lady Isabella exclaimed. “He’s practically feral.”
“Then I don’t suppose you want an introduction. I promised to introduce him to the ton. By the time I am through, he will be the most sought-after gentleman in London.”
“I’d like to see that,” Lady Pavenley sneered.
Daphne would like to see it too. She’d never really exerted her social power before. Now was as good a time as any. If she’d been sweet and kind, she would have said it was because poor Mr. Murray needed a wife. The truth was he’d become a daily fixture in her dining room, and the cook was complaining at how much he ate. It was time to send him back to Scotland, time to have Colin all to herself.
Because Colin was hers now. He trusted her with his heart, and she was learning to trust him with hers.
DAPHNE DANCED WITH Mr. Murray and then with Colin not once, but twice. He’d tried to convince her to leave after their first dance, pointing out that dancing with one’s own husband was exceedingly gauche. But Daphne retorted that as the daughter of a duke and the wife of a war hero, she was in no danger of censure. Finally, sometime after midnight, Colin convinced his wife to leave the ball and go home with him. He didn’t care for dancing, but he had to admit, Daphne was an exceptional dancer. And she had looked too beautiful to resist. Her new blue gown made her skin luminous, and her eyes shone brighter than ever. The dress showed far too much of her body, but then that was the current style. And he certainly liked how easy the current style made undressing his wife. Currently, she stood before him in a chemise, stockings, and nothing else.
“I don’t think I’ll go to many more events this Season,” she told him, sipping her wine before putting it on the table and moving to unfasten his cravat. “I’ve had enough excitement and gossip for a while.”
Colin raised a brow. He had no doubt she would change her mind about staying home when the next invitation arrived, but for the moment, he had her all to himself. She dragged his neck cloth free and unfastened his collar.
“I introduced Mr. Murray to half a dozen young ladies tonight. Certainly, I have done my duty.”
“You have been most generous,” he said, his voice low and heated. “Even Duncan was surprised when you agreed to help him.”
“I have my reasons,” she said. “I like having you all to myself.” One sleeve of her chemise had fallen off her shoulder, revealing most of her lovely round breast, and Colin was suddenly quite impatient to have his hands on her. He pulled her close and kissed her. Daphne kissed him back, laughing. “I’m still undressing you.”
“Later,” he said, kissing her again. “I’m impatient to touch you.”
“And what about me? I want to touch you.”
“Later,” he said again, pushing her back against the bed and tugging her chemise down about her waist.
Later, whe
n they were both naked and flushed, and she lay warm and curled against him, he leaned close, heart pounding, and whispered in her ear. “I love you, Daphne.”
For just a moment, a bubble of panic rose up and threatened to choke him, and then she murmured. “I love you too, Colin.” And she snuggled closer and sighed. He sighed too, his body relaxing and his heart full.
When he’d hired young Jeremy Donnelly at Colin’s suggestion, the Duke of Mayne had remarked that he saw a change in Colin. Neil Wraxall said the same when he’d introduced Harley to him, though they hadn’t yet convinced her to leave her life on the streets behind. Colin was beginning to see it too. He smiled more. He laughed easily. He didn’t push his emotions away as often.
And tonight, he let them wash over him like Daphne’s scent. He thought he might just recognize the emotion he felt at the moment—pure, unadulterated joy.
About Shana Galen
Shana Galen is three-time Rita award nominee and the bestselling author of passionate Regency romps. "The road to happily-ever-after is intense, conflicted, suspenseful and fun," and RT Bookreviews calls her books “lighthearted yet poignant, humorous yet touching." She taught English at the middle and high school level off and on for eleven years. Most of those years were spent working in Houston's inner city. Now she writes full time, surrounded by three cats and one spoiled dog. She's happily married and has a daughter who is most definitely a romance heroine in the making.
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Here’s a sneak peek of Philomena’s story.
One
Philomena shivered in the drafty dining room of the grand country house—and not only because of the snow swirling outside. The snow was light and feathery and would melt before noon. Her mother’s wrath would last much longer.
“Philomena, I simply do not understand what would cause you to do such a thing,” the duchess said for perhaps the third time in so many minutes. “Viscount Knoxwood is not yet forty, has all his teeth and a full head of hair, and is, if not wealthy, not in the poor house. Why on earth would you refuse his offer?”
Phil pushed her toast to one side of the plate and back again. The trick here was not to allow her gaze to stray to the other side of the room. She had to focus on her plate or her mother. “Mama, I do think marriage should be based on more than finding a man who is not elderly and has a full head of hair.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Her mother set her teacup down with a clatter. Phil cringed.
“I agree. Marriage should be based on mutual respect. Viscount Knoxwood has been courting you for the last six months and has shown nothing but respect. The sacrament of marriage should be entered into by equals, and you and he are of the same social rank.”
Phil stared very, very hard at her plate.
“And, though I know this is out of fashion, a marriage should forge an alliance. Viscount Knoxwood has several estates. Your dowry would help him make the repairs and improvements he wants, enriching both our family and his. So tell me, please do, what is your objection?”
Phil shrugged.
“Do not shrug your shoulders, Philomena. It is unladylike.”
Phil looked directly at her mother. “I don’t love him, Mama.”
This was really the wrong thing to say. The duchess looked as though she might throw her teacup across the room. “Listen to me, Philomena. I do not want to hear another word about love from you. I have had quite enough of that from your brother. If Phineas wants to ruin his life by marrying a woman old enough to be his mother then taking up with her in Berkshire, of all places, that is his mistake.”
“She isn’t quite that old, Mama.”
“She is too old to bear him an heir, and now what will become of the title?”
The Mayne title was in little danger of extinction, but Phil knew her mother did not wish to be corrected. Wisely, she kept her mouth closed.
“You are the last of my children. I have seen four sons put in the grave and one daughter whose husband has been disgraced. My only living son has made a mésalliance I have little choice but to accept. But you, Philomena, you will marry well, and you will make me proud.” The duchess rose. She was not a tall woman, but she stood very straight, which gave her the appearance of height. “Either make the decision yourself, or I will make it for you. You have one month from today.”
With that shocking pronouncement, the Dowager Duchess of Mayne strode out of the room, her skirts swishing.
Phil waited a full minute before raising her eyes to the sideboard. James stood there in his light blue livery. His back was straight, his eyes focused on an indistinct spot across the room, his face expressionless. Of course, the footman had heard every word, but one would never guess it from his behavior.
Phil lifted her teacup and drank deeply, all but draining the cup. As if on cue, James lifted the tea pot and came to stand beside her. “More tea, me lady?”
“Yes, please.” She held the teacup in place while he lowered the pot. By raising her arm just slightly, she grazed the underside of his wrist with the outside of hers. Of course, he wore white gloves, but she could see the slightly darker color of his flesh between glove and coat sleeve. He lifted the tea pot, and his gaze met hers briefly. She nodded and he withdrew, back to his spot across the room, though it might as well have been an ocean away.
PHIL WORKED DILIGENTLY on her correspondence for the next hour or two. This was no easy task with her mother at the desk behind her. The two had often written their letters in the morning room in companionable silence, but the silence this morning was strained. Phil’s hand shook as she wrote and she blotted her ink several times, forcing her to begin letters anew. Each time she crumpled a sheet of ruined vellum, her mother would huff as though disappointed. Finally, the clock chimed eleven and Phil rose.
“Have you finished your letter to Aunt Joyce?” her mother asked without looking at her.
“I have, Mama.”
“It seems a bad idea to ride today. There might be ice.” Her mother continued to write, her pen scratching the paper in front of her.
“I thought I would take a walk. I trust that is acceptable.”
Her mother made a sound of acquiescence and Phil started away.
“Perhaps I shall join you,” the duchess remarked, looking up and out the window. The sun was shining now, glittering off the quickly melting snow making a thin covering on the grounds.
Phil held her breath. Everything inside her screamed no, but she couldn’t very well say it aloud. Her mother would want to know why she shouldn’t go out walking with her daughter, and Phil had no answer for that.
Finally she said, “Shall I have Miss O’Malley bring your pelisse, gloves, and hat?”
Her mother made a face. “Never mind. That seems a lot of trouble to look at dead trees and grass.
Phil blew out a silent breath of relief.
“I’ll have Cook put out some cold dishes about one o’ clock. Help yourself if you’re feeling peckish.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“We will have guests for dinner.”
Phil paused, trying to remember who was coming to dinner. She’d ask Miss Dawson, her lady’s maid. Feeling lighter than she had in days, Phil rushed up to her chamber and found Dawson laying out several of her dresses. She saw a pretty green one she would have liked to change into as it made her eyes look even bluer, but it was a spring and summer dress, and winter hadn’t quite loosened its grip on the world. Phil decided to content herself with the warm dove gray dress she had donned this morning.
“What are you doing, Dawson?” she asked.
“I’m looking to see if these dresses need mending. I know we travel to Town in a few days to order your gowns for the Season, but you can still wear these from last year when you are at home.”<
br />
Phil sat on the edge of the bed and let her fingers trail over last year’s gowns. Each of them held a memory of dancing and music and garden parties. She had always looked forward to the Season before. But this year the riot of balls and routs held little appeal for her. She would have rather stayed in the country. Her mother’s pronouncement meant that by the time she attended her first ball of the Season, she would be engaged.
“Mama says we have guests for dinner. Do you remember who?’
“It’s Reverend Maypole, Mrs. Maypole, Viscount Knoxwood, his mother, and sisters, my lady.”
“Oh. That should prove awkward.”
Dawson gave her mistress a sympathetic look. “Perhaps it will snow this afternoon and the roads will be impassable.”
Phil rolled her eyes. That was about as likely as her mother agreeing to allow her to marry their footman. She stood. “I should take my opportunity to go for a walk now then. I don’t want to be out if the weather does miraculously turn. Can you help me change into my boots and cloak?”
That done, Phil pinched her cheeks to give them some color then lightly descended the stairs and went out the door.
HE HATED HOW HIS HEART sped up when he saw her coming. It wasn’t just because she was beautiful—though she was incredibly beautiful. And it wasn’t because she was rich—though she was almost as rich as she was beautiful. This was more than attraction or greed. This was something he hadn’t counted on and really couldn’t afford.
She spotted him a moment later, and he knew the exact moment because her smile widened and lit up her face. He’d heard that expression before, of course, but he’d never seen it actually happen until he’d met her. Her face actually seemed to shine brighter when she saw him. In those moments, he couldn’t even see her beauty. All he could see was her.
