“Since we are almost there, I will tell you why.” Hampton gestured lazily at the pistols hung on the coach wall above Daniel’s head. “I am here to make sure you do not take one of those with you when you step out of this carriage.”
“If I am inclined to kill a man, I can do it with my bare hands.”
“I do not doubt that you can. In fact, I suspect that you have. However, you will not today.”
They entered the outskirts of Brinley. Daniel called to the coachman to go slowly.
Hampton checked one side of the lane, while Daniel checked the other. Near the other end of the village, Daniel spied a small inn with a familiar curricle tied up in front.
He was out of the coach before it stopped, with Hampton on his heels. Inside he found the innkeeper and asked for the man who owned the curricle.
“Not here.” The man replied, turning away.
Daniel grabbed him by the front of his shirt and lifted him until his toes scraped the floor. “Where is he?”
Stunned, the innkeeper merely pointed above.
“Is he alone?”
The head above his gripping hand shook.
He dropped the man and strode to the stairs.
Hampton grabbed his arm. “Do not do anything rash.”
Daniel shook him off and took the stairs three at a time.
There were only two chambers on the second level. One door stood open, revealing a deserted room.
He threw open the door of the other one. A vicious anger drowned his mind as he took in the scene of seduction.
Tyndale bent over a seated Diane, holding her face in his hands, kissing her. Her back pressed against the chair and her arms clutched at his. Resisting him? Embracing him? In the second before the door crashed against the wall, it wasn’t clear. Nor did Daniel care.
Tyndale looked up and stepped away from the table. Diane’s expression registered surprise, and then horror. She turned away and covered her face with her hands.
Not thinking, not caring about anything, driven by emotions too black to consider the cost, Daniel turned his total attention on Tyndale and took a step toward the man he planned to beat bloody.
A hand on his arm stopped him. He tried to shrug it off, but it would not budge. Furious, he turned on Hampton, to knock him away if necessary.
“Do not forget who he is. Would you swing for this?” Hampton said quietly.
A thin slice of rational sense returned. Tyndale watched, not the least bit concerned. Diane’s hands fell. She sat there looking at no one, her humiliation palpable. They all stayed in their places in a crackling silence, a tableau vivant of ruin and compromise and anger.
“Miss Albret, would you leave us, please.” Hampton spoke in his solicitor’s voice.
She began to speak, but stopped. Daniel could not imagine what she thought she could say. Excuses for Tyndale? Accusations he had duped her? It did not matter. The situation spoke for itself. No man brought a woman to a chamber in this way if his intentions were honorable.
She hurried out and Hampton closed the door. Tyndale strolled to the table, took his seat, and poured himself some wine.
“It was just a kiss,” he said. “She did not mind at all, so why should you?”
Daniel wanted to strangle him.
Hampton physically took a position between the two of them. “You have compromised her by merely bringing her to this chamber. She may not have comprehended that, but you certainly did. Now a solution must be found.”
“I suppose I could offer some compensation, if it was not too high.”
“This is not some milkmaid you pay off with a few pounds,” Hampton said.
“For all intents and purposes, it is.” Tyndale sipped his wine and thought it over. “Surely you are not suggesting that I do the right thing by her? I suppose that I might consider that, if she had any background or fortune—”
“I’ll be damned before I allow such a thing,” Daniel snarled.
“You cannot expect me to take her penniless, St. John. Surely her reputation is worth a few pounds.”
“You also have a reputation,” Hampton reminded.
Tyndale laughed. “For all of her silks, she is nobody. For all of his wealth, so is your friend here. I think that my reputation can survive this little misunderstanding.”
“What sort of settlement did you have in mind?” Hampton asked.
“I’ll not see her tied to him, and with him profiting—”
“Last night’s debt disappears, for starters. That and another twenty thousand might do it.”
“Forty thousand pounds is a rather large settlement,” Hampton said.
“I think that I am generous to consider the matter seriously at all.”
“I think that I am generous if I let you live,” Daniel said.
Tyndale nibbled at a remaining bit of tartlet. “Is that a challenge?”
“No,” Hampton said emphatically. “He is angry, as you should expect. Your manner is only provoking him more. Do not forget that I am a witness to this, and I am not a nobody.”
Tyndale turned and studied Daniel. “You are extremely distressed by a simple kiss, St. John. You are as protective as if she were a sister.”
The room disappeared. So did thoughts of any settlement, except one.
It was the only resolution he had ever wanted with this man. He had planned for it, lived for it, and then, because of Diane, discarded it. But now here it was, all the same.
Sometimes fate conspires to force one to do what must be done.
“There will be no marriage, no settlement,” he said, pulling the door open. “My second will call on yours in London tomorrow.”
chapter 17
It was as if someone had died.
Silent sobriety shrouded the house. Diane knew the reason for the dismal atmosphere. Her behavior had not only smeared her own reputation, but also that of Daniel and his sister. The whole household would suffer for her stupidity.
Men visited Daniel, wearing the faces people put on at wakes. Mister Hampton came several times the day after Diane and Daniel returned to London, and Vergil Duclairc called too. There were others, men she did not know. Finally, late in the afternoon, a gray-haired man of noble bearing was shown into Daniel’s study. Diane saw him pass the library where she was reading a book.
She went into the hall and looked at the study door. Daniel had spent most of his time there since they returned. He had barely spoken to her since finding her at the inn. On emerging from the confrontation with Tyndale, he had only asked if she was unharmed. Her assurances had not softened his expression and he had not wanted to hear her explanations.
He had not even ridden in the coach on the way back to London. He had climbed up with the driver, taking the reins in his own hands.
They had returned at once. Mister Hampton had their things packed and sent back to the city in the countess’s carriage.
The man did not stay long in the study. He swept out, serious and subdued, looking like a character in a stage tragedy.
The door to the study remained ajar after he left. Diane strolled by and peered in.
Daniel was positioned as he so often was, near the window, looking out. He appeared very alone. Very isolated.
She slipped into the room.
“I would like to speak with you,” she said. “I think that I should return to France. This scandal will not affect you so much if I am gone.”
“That will not be necessary. The fault was not yours.”
“The fault was mine. I should have realized—”
“People more wise and worldly than you have not realized.”
He sounded so distant. Her heart sickened at the way he still did not look at her. He had cut off whatever familiarity they had. Closed a door. She had become a responsibility again, nothing more.
It was what she had wanted. She had decided that this friendship and its intimacy had to end. Now, experiencing the chill of its death saddened her more than she ever expected.
“It was not what it seemed,” she said, hearing her voice catch. The truth would make no difference, but it suddenly was vitally important that he hear this. “He helped me on the road, and went to see if a vicar in Fenwood would meet with me. I merely waited in the chamber for his return, not for . . .”
He turned to her. “And then he had the meal sent up, and you dined, and to your shock you discovered that he did not think of you as a daughter or niece.”
“Yes.”
“And then he alluded to affection and love, and even marriage.”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“And then he kissed you. And you permitted it.”
“I was astonished and shocked. It was so unexpected—”
“It does not matter.”
“It does matter.” And it did. Right now, it mattered more than anything in the world. “Nothing scandalous happened. You saw that when you came in.”
“I am not sure what I saw when I came in. I do know that if I had not arrived, Tyndale would not have stopped with a kiss, and that your agreement to be in that chamber would have absolved him of the worst accusations.”
She did not know what to say. She had been unbearably trusting and stupid. “Surely, if I left, no one would care about this. No one would know.”
“Oh, it will be known. Such things have a way of getting around. Do not concern yourself about that too much, however. I am dealing with it.”
He said the last part firmly. The silence of the house and Jeanette’s retreat to her chambers lined up in Diane’s memory. So did the little procession of serious visitors.
A terrible suspicion poked into her mind.
“That man who was just here. Wasn’t that the Chevalier Corbet? He has never visited before.”
Daniel strolled over to his desk. It was stacked with ledgers and books. “He is an old friend and has agreed to do me an important favor.”
“What favor?” She strode over to the desk and surveyed the evidence of a man putting his affairs in order. “Holy Mother, what have you done? Did you challenge Mister Tyndale over this?”
“Of course.”
“Of course? I am not even your real cousin. You have no responsibility for me, let alone this dangerous gesture. There had to have been another way to salvage your pride, short of trying to kill him.”
“There was no other way that I found acceptable.”
“And what if he kills you?” The idea made her stomach clench. If he died over this, over such a little thing, she would never forgive herself. The guilt would hound her forever.
She had decided to leave him, but not like this. Not in such a permanent way. Knowing he was in the world somewhere would have made it easier. Instead, she might suffer a loss that her heart already knew it could not absorb.
“Do not be concerned. You will be cared for if I fail. I have spent the morning arranging trusts for you and Paul and some others. You will not be destitute.”
“I do not want your money. I do not want this challenge to go forward. It is reckless and unnecessary. For all you know, I was glad of his attention. Perhaps he was sincere in announcing his intentions as a suitor. Maybe I welcomed that kiss and the chance to catch the second son of a marquess.”
He absently restacked some ledgers. “Maybe you did. It is sounding that way.”
A spitting denial rose to her lips but she swallowed it. Proclaiming her innocence, describing her revulsion at Tyndale’s insistent kisses, would only add fuel to the fire.
It broke her heart that Daniel might think she wanted that seduction, but her own pride was of little consequence now. She could not have him fight this duel. She could not risk his death. Let him wonder whether he protected a woman unworthy of such chivalry. It might lead to his standing down from the challenge.
“This is not only foolhardy, it is hypocritical. Your own behavior with me has been much worse than Mister Tyndale’s.”
“I am aware of that. However, at an essential level, it was very different in ways you cannot understand.”
“As the object of the behavior, I see no difference, except that his ultimate intentions may have been honorable.”
“I am very sure his were not. Nor were mine. In any case, one of us will pay for his misuse of you, and perhaps for much more.”
“When is this duel to occur?”
“Louis is meeting with Tyndale’s second right now. I expect it will be soon.”
“Does Jeanette know what you are planning to do?”
“Certainly.”
He had told his sister, but not the woman for whose honor he fought.
“I assume that she begged you to change your mind.”
“Unlike you, Jeanette knows better than to try.”
“Perhaps that is because she does not know the whole story.”
She turned on her heel, to go and recruit an ally.
His voice, lazy with distraction, followed her to the door. “Actually, it is because she does know the whole story.”
“You must stop him.” Diane stood in front of Jeanette in the sitting room and said it as a command.
“No one can do that now.”
Jeanette appeared resigned and frail. Her white skin showed faint lines that Diane had never noticed before.
Diane began pacing. A mix of frustration and deathly worry throbbed inside her head. “Daniel’s reaction was too extreme. A duel! There had to be some other way—”
“There was. Mister Tyndale offered to marry you if a settlement came with you.”
“Your brother would rather die, or kill, than pay a few pounds?”
“The settlement was extremely large and intended to insult both you and my brother. However, that is not why Daniel refused.”
“Then why?”
She stroked the ends of her shawl. “He would never put you in a situation where you felt obligated to marry a man in order to avert this challenge.”
“It should have been my choice, not his.”
“Well, he made it. Besides, Daniel would never let Tyndale have you in any way, even in marriage. He would definitely kill the man before he permitted that.”
Diane laid her hand on Jeanette’s shoulder and looked in her eyes. “Daniel said something about your knowing the whole story. Is there more to this?”
“I will tell you this. I do so in the hopes that you do not blame yourself. Paul has indicated that Mister Tyndale may have taken you to that inn deliberately, intending to provoke a duel with Daniel. The night before, he lost a large sum to Daniel at cards. His obligation to that debt would disappear if Daniel died.”
“That is a drastic way to settle a debt.”
“It is an effective way. Mister Hampton, the solicitor, presented this theory to Daniel. My brother considers it irrelevant, of course. However, it would explain why the settlement Tyndale demanded in order to marry you was so outrageously high. It included that debt, you see.”
So, she had been a pawn. The kindness on the road had merely been a man seeing an opportunity. Perhaps he had even followed her, hoping to find a way to compromise her so that this could all unfold as it did.
Being Daniel’s doll had been one thing. Being Mister Tyndale’s dupe was another. She had fallen into the lure like the stupid, ignorant fool she was. Worse, Daniel might die because of it.
“This theory would only work if Mister Tyndale was confident he would win the duel,” she said.
“He is reputed to be an excellent shot.”
One of the best shots in England, Daniel had said that day by the brook.
“We must stop this, Jeanette.”
“No one can do that. Trust me on this. I know my brother as no one else does. He will meet Tyndale, and he will do so with the goal of killing him.”
Diane waited until the house fell silent and then rose from her bed. Hours of turmoil and guilt had resulted in a decision.
The emotions of the last few days had prepared her for this choice. Maybe those of the last mon
ths had. The desolation of contemplating Daniel’s possible death had revealed the truths in her heart.
She removed a dressing gown that she had never worn from the wardrobe. A frivolous, impractical design of deep rose satin and cream lace, it had been made in Paris on Jeanette’s whim, even though Diane had insisted she would never wear such a confection.
She pictured how it would look over her simple nightgown. The image in her head was comical and ridiculous. She would appear to be a child decked out in her mother’s clothing.
Deciding this was no time for modesty, she shed the nightgown and slipped the rose silk over her nakedness. It covered her almost as much as a ball gown would, but the front was slit high and the sensual flow hugged her curves. Lace framed the scooped neckline, feathering at the top of her breasts.
A knot twisted in her stomach. She was about to do something that anyone with any sense would call a stupid, scandalous mistake.
Worse, she might fail. He had been so indifferent in the study that she had no confidence her plan would work. She had to try, however. Jeanette had said that no one could get him to withdraw the challenge. There was a small chance that was not true.
Plucking up her courage, she left her chamber to go and bargain with the Devil Man.
chapter 18
She eased open Daniel’s chamber door. Light poured through the crack.
Her knees wobbled. She paused while she forced some calm on herself.
She hoped it would not be too horrible. He was not a stranger. Her good intentions should keep it from being wanton, no matter how anyone else saw it. No matter how he saw it.
She pushed the door open farther and slipped in.
The chamber’s open, spare elegance surprised her. The furnishings possessed an Oriental flavor. The bedposts and boards were angular and fretted, and the wardrobe was inlaid with flowers and birds. A chest near the bed had abundant carvings in three colors of wood.
The exotic touches did not overwhelm the chamber. This was not some Asian fantasy. These appeared to be objects he had bought on his travels and simply put to use.
Daniel sat in a chair near the cold hearth, reading a book by the light of a large brace of candles. The chair faced her and she could see the full-sleeved Japanese robe that he wore wrapped and sashed. It was dark blue with a white pattern and reminded her of the chamber she had used in Paris.
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