Daughter of Darkness

by Janet Woods

  There was a mist coming off the sea. Though he’d watched it roll in many times before in the familiar surrounds of his home, his heightened imagination found it somewhat sinister. Goosebumps prickled up his spine. Something unexplainable was going on and he was unhappy about it. The fact was, the occurrences had only started after Sapphire had arrived. ‘I cannot see what the woman has done to be vilified by the preacher,’ he mused. ‘The only time she left the estate without my wife as companion was to give aid to a woman suffering in childbirth today. If that’s casting an evil eye, every midwife in the county must be guilty of it.’ The eyes that sought Anthony’s were half-amused and half-serious. ‘The child was not born with cloven feet and horns upon his forehead, I wager?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge.’ The officer smiled nervously. ‘I do not see the need to question your guest. It’s a rum business, though. I’m uncertain of how to proceed with the investigation.’

  ‘As am I,’ Gerard said grimly. ‘The matter may die down now there’s no fuel to feed it.’ Crossing to the bell rope, he rang for a servant. ‘You’ll accept the hospitality of my house and stay the night, Captain?’ His lips twisted in a wry grin as he turned to face the officer. ‘I must request that you do not discuss this matter outside these four walls. I would not have the ladies alarmed.’

  ‘Of course not, My Lord.’ Anthony gave a relieved smile. ‘Thank you Sir. I admit I was not looking forward to the return journey with no moon to light the way.’

  After giving instructions to the servant he’d summoned, Gerard turned back to the man and inspected him from head to toe. ‘My servant will clean the dust from your uniform before we go to the drawing room.’

  Later, as Gerard sprawled on his back on the vast bed he occupied, he sought to isolate the quality that drew men to Willow. Anthony Dowling had been instantly smitten by her. He’d become so tongue-tied in her presence that his grandmother had fixed him with a stare and asked him if all his family suffered from stammering.

  In his father’s eyes Willow could do no wrong, as if she were a favored daughter. He enjoyed seeing the rapport between his wife and his father. Her affection for the earl was genuine, and his father responded to it.

  Jeffrey would lay down his life for her, he’d wager. The thought brought a frown to his face. How far Jeffrey would go to defend her against himself was a matter for speculation, and one he did not wish to put to the test. His brother was at an age when the hot blood of youth took precedence over rational thought. What the lad needed… ? He grinned as an image of the girl at Anthony Dowling’s lodging came into his mind. She was exactly what Jeffrey needed!

  As for himself? Although he considered himself lucky that Willow was pleasing to the eye, he was too experienced a campaigner to fall under her spell. She was his wife for one reason only, to provide the estate with heirs. The words of the gatekeeper came to his mind and he scowled. Was the Lynchcross blood tainted? What if she did prove to be barren? What if the accusation contained in the letter from Eduard Lynchcross was true, and not the ramblings of an insane mind? Could he have fathered young Edward the night before he’ d left for America?

  Grabbing up a candle, he slipped from his room and strode resolutely along the carpeted corridor and up the stairs to the top of the house. A night-light burned on the nursery table. From the vicinity of the maid’s room came the sound of snoring. He crept into the room that held the sleeping form of Edward, and gazed down at the boy with troubled eyes.

  It was several minutes before he retraced his steps. The house was quiet and dark. Only the eyes of his ancestors in the portrait gallery watched his progress. Reflecting the gleam of candlelight, their eyes seemed to follow him. Old friends, they bothered Gerard not a bit. Pausing in front of the fourth earl, he whispered. ‘What would you do if Edward was your bastard?’

  The fourth earl remained silent. Clearly, Gerard heard a door close. It came from the North wing where Willow slept. Why she’d chosen to accommodate herself in such miserable quarters was beyond his comprehension. The wing was supposed to be haunted by the ghosts of a manservant and that of his lover, who’d been the wife of one of the earls. Legend had it, the lovers had been locked in a secret room concealed behind a tapestry and left to starve to death.

  Uneasily, he wondered if Willow had inherited an interest in the occult. Was that why she’d isolated herself, so she could remain unobserved whilst practising the unholy rites? His mouth stretched in a tight grin as he realized his imagination was getting the better of him. He was about to return to his chamber when the sound of slippered feet whispered along the corridor. The hairs lifted on the back of his neck. It proved to be no ghostly visitation, however. Candle snuffed, he drew back into the shadows and observed the cloaked figure of Kitty Adams glide silently past. Off to meet Brian O’Shea, he imagined, leaving her mistress alone and unattended.

  Devilment came into his eyes as he wondered how Willow would react to a surprise visit from her husband. The corridor was long, the bedchambers too numerous to count as he set about his task of finding her. This will take me all night, he fretted, opening another door to no avail. About to turn back in defeat, his nostrils were teased by a fleeting fragrance of perfume. A tiny flicker of firelight danced beneath the last door at the end of the corridor. He hastened towards it.

  His breath hissed audibly in his throat as he approached her bed. Asleep, she lay on her back, her innocence and vulnerability achingly apparent to him. Her hair spread like ripples of dark water across the sheets. Childlike, one small hand curled against the cheek that turned against it. Her mouth was slightly parted, her breath whispered evenly with each rise and fall of her breast. Her beauty was breathtaking.

  As he gazed at the recumbent form, a lump formed in his throat. ‘I hardly know you,’ he whispered. ‘Yet my desire for you grows each time I see you.’ Re-lighting his candle from the fire, he carefully placed it on her dressing table and positioned himself at the side of her bed.

  Being married was proving to be more difficult than he’d imagined. With as much dispassion as he could muster he gazed down at his wife’s slender body. Had she been a drab, the bedding of her would have been simple.

  The bedding would be simple now, an insidious voice inside his head whispered, and his body responded excitingly to the thought. She’s yours. All you need do is take her. She’ll not be expecting pleasure from the act. Thrust her legs apart and slake your appetite upon her. It’s your right as her husband. She’ll struggle and cry whilst you break her to your will and sow your seed of inside her. You’ve been a long time without bodily comfort and release.

  ‘No,’ he murmured regretfully. ‘I’ll not act like some crude oaf. She has dreams and feelings, as she revealed in her conversation with my father today. I’ll not be the instrument of her misery.’ Tenderly he kissed her softly parted mouth. She whispered his name. How sweet it sounded when whispered thus. He kissed her again, relishing the soft, seductive swell of her lips. Sweet Jesus! he prayed, let her wake. She’s so relaxed she’ll be amenable to my attention now. The delicious, scented hollows at the base of her throat succumbed to the fluttering probe of his tongue and she gave a tiny sigh. Two soft breasts were outlined under the bed linen, just a finger’s length away. He gently brushed them into erectness. This time, the sigh she gave had an ecstatic sound. Yet she still slept. It didn’t seem possible. A quiet desperation grew in him as he slid the covers from her body and gently shook her. ‘Willow?’

  Why wouldn’t she wake? He explored the silky contours of her body, breathing her name over and over again. What could be more natural than this night should see a consummation of their marriage.

  She stretched like a langorous cat, moist and ripe for the taking. He took her gently over the peak, watching her shudder, surging hard against his linens. He shook her again, firmer this time. She was like a rag doll in his hands. She protested with a groan and curled into a protective ball when he released her.

  His body on fire, it to
ok all of Gerard’ s strength not to turn her on her back, and take his joy of her whilst she lay unconscious. A mockery of a grin laced his mouth as he tore a small trophy from her bodice. His eyes searched the perimeters the room. She’d managed to enchant him without any sorcerer’s symbols to aid her. Placing a parting kiss against her ear, he whispered. ‘Sleep sweet, My Lady’

  This night was not for him, but her dreams would be haunted by the exquisite pleasure his touch had surely given her. So would his, unfortunately!

  Noticing some vials, he realized she’d taken a sleeping draught? He couldn’t think of any reason why she’d have trouble sleeping. His eyes narrowed. It was more likely she’d been given some sort of sleeping draft?

  Pulling the covers over her body he picked up a half-empty cup of chocolate and sniffed. Balm and Valerian! He’d learned enough from Charles Addison to know balm was a mild sedative used for women’s problems. Valerian was a sleeping draught. A combination of the two would knock out a horse, as he’d learned to his cost four years previously.

  He scowled as he remembered Kitty Adams gliding towards the stairs. Had she drugged Willow, and cheated him out of his comfort as a result? He intended to make it his business to find out.

  Willow had never had a dream so pleasurable. When she half-woke in the morning—and was in the lethargic state before real awakening—her mind and body re-experienced it. It had been almost real, Gerard coming to her. She hoped the dream was an omen that her marriage union would be a pleasant one.

  ‘Kitty!’ she shouted. Leaping from the bed she stripped the chemise from her body, noticing a rip on the bodice where a length of lace had come off. No doubt Kitty would find it amongst the sheets and sew it back on. She threw the chemise over a chair. ‘Bring me a bowl of water to wash with and my tooth sponge?’

  ‘Kitty?’ Hurrying to the maid’s room she cursed when she saw the bed hadn’t been slept in. She’d expressly forbidden her permission to visit Brian before their marriage. Couldn’t the girl wait? She dragged the pitcher of water from the dresser, splashed some into a bowl and hurriedly made her toilet before pulling on the her riding outfit. About to attack her tangled locks with the hair-brush, she impatiently gave permission to enter when a knock sounded on the door.

  ‘Have you seen Kitty?’ she asked, when the housekeeper set a tray of tea on the table.

  ‘She has been dismissed from her position and assigned to the scullery, My Lady.’ Mrs. Breton took the brush from her hand. ‘If you’ll allow me.’

  ‘My maid has been dismissed?’ Incredulous, she gazed at Mrs. Breton. ‘On whose order?’

  ‘The viscount’s, My Lady.’ Mrs. Breton looked uncomfortable as she began to dress Willow’s hair. ‘I understand Kitty abandoned her duties last night. The viscount was extremely annoyed when he caught her trying to sneak in this morning. She got a good dressing down, and was lucky not to have been dismissed.’

  ‘Was she indeed?’

  Choosing to forget that she’d been unsatisfied with Kitty’s attitude herself, of late, Willow’ s temper began to rise. Whatever Kitty had done, Gerard had no right to dismiss her without consultation. She glanced at the way Mrs. Breton was fashioning her hair and snatched the brush from her hand. ‘This will not do. Go and tell Kitty to come to me at once.’

  ‘Do not ask me to do that, My Lady.’ Mrs. Breton looked most unhappy. ‘She’ll have no choice but to obey you, and I’ll have no choice other than to dismiss her, and have her escorted from the estate. The viscount has given me specific orders concerning this matter.’

  ‘I see.’ She rose to her feet. ‘Where’s my husband now?’

  ‘In the study.’ Mrs. Breton followed her out to the hall. ‘You cannot go down with your hair undressed, My Lady,’ she said, her voice shocked.

  ‘I can do whatever I please, Mrs. Breton.’

  She didn’t bother knocking, just opened the study door and walked straight in.

  Gerard looked up from the desk and frowned ominously. ‘Am I to understand you wish to see me?’

  ‘You are.’ Her voice rose a notch as she uttered a deliberate falsehood. ‘Kitty had my permission to be absent last night. You had no right to dismiss her. I insist on having her back.’

  Gerard rose to his feet and came to stand in front of her, his eyes silver bright as they probed the depths of hers. ‘Did she also have permission to drug you senseless with a sleeping draught last night?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Her insides quaked at the deceptively silky tone of her husband’s voice. In contrast, his eyes were as cold as polished metal. She had an uncomfortable feeling he’d seen through her lie. Her voice trembled with tension. ‘Even if she was knowledgeable about medication, she’d not do such a thing.’

  ‘No?’ His hand went to his pocket and pulled out the missing lace from her chemise. His smile was cruelly mocking as he dangled it in front of her eyes. ‘Tell me, wife. Were your dreams pleasant last night?’

  Her mouth became dry as she remembered the caress of lips and hands teasing her body into exquisite fulfillment, of her own half-remembered abandonment. The recollection caused a dewy aching awareness in the secret depths of her body. A deep, painful flush of embarrassment swept over her. ‘You are no gentleman, sir.’ Her fury boiled over when she saw the laughter in his eyes. Snatching the lace from his grasp she lashed out with the other hand and caught him a stinging blow across his cheek. ‘I hate you, Gerard,’ she hissed.

  The laughter faded from his eyes as he stared at her in shock. There was a hot patch on his face where her hand had marked it. She took a step backwards when he moved. He gave a tight smile as he jerked the bell-pull. There was menace in his whisper. ‘Be thankful I’ve promised never to beat you, because you’re closer to it now than you’ve ever been. Accompany Lady Sommersley to her bedchamber and make her presentable,’ he said quietly when Mrs. Breton appeared. ‘If she refuses to co-operate you may lock her in her room and inform me. Is that understood?’

  ‘Yes, My Lord.’ He ignored the sympathetic glance Mrs. Breton gave Willow. ‘Have my wife’s belongings moved to the chamber adjoining mine. The one she resides in now is barely habitable. I cannot understand why she chose such accommodations.’

  Willow seethed at being spoken of as if she wasn’t there, but she sensed Mrs. Breton’s sympathy, and blessed the woman when she dared to say. ‘Lady Sommersley was assigned the chambers by your late mother, My Lord.’

  ‘My mother?’ His expression contained a mixture of shame and disbelief. ‘My mother was inhospitable towards my wife?’

  ‘Yes, My Lord,’ Mrs. Breton’s tone was firm. ‘And though I should not say it, for no good reason I could see.’

  ‘Mrs. Breton,’ Willow implored, twisting the situation to her advantage, despite the fact she was close to tears. ‘It does not matter now. I was grateful for the roof over my head. We must not speak ill of the dead.’

  ‘That will be all.’ Unable to gaze at his wife’s wounded expression without capitulating, Gerard picked up a paper from the desk and scrutinized it with more than his usual intensity. When he heard the study door shut, he thumped his hand on the desk and swore in frustration. He should have known his mother would have found some way to exercise her spite against Willow. She’d set her heart on Daphne de Vere and Sheronwood for him.

  ‘You fool!’ he muttered. ‘You’ll never win Willow’s heart by being cruel. She has suffered enough.’

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Well done,’ Willow cried out in admiration.

  The stallion had done its best to unseat its rider and now responded to Jeffrey’s handling. Flanks slicked with foam, it cantered obediently under his guidance. Jeffrey’s grin was wide as he slid from its back and handed the reins to Brian. ‘Did you see the fight he put up, father? I never thought I’d stay in the saddle.’

  The earl looked tired. The short walk from the house had exhausted him, despite having John to lean on. Nevertheless, he smiled with great lo
ve at his youngest son, lavishing praise on him before whispering something to John. John picked him up and carried him back towards the house.

  Waiting until the hubbub had died down, Willow kissed Edward and handed him over to his nurse before strolling off towards the stable building. Gerard was occupied with Anthony Dowling. She was pleased he had a guest. It meant he would not ride with her today. He’d outraged her sensibilities with his behavior of the previous night.

  ‘Willow?’ Catching her up at a run, Jeffrey smiled an apology. ‘Captain Dowling has offered to show me the regimental horses being put through their paces, so I’ll be unable to escort you today. Gerard bids you wait while he changes. He’ll accompany you on your ride today.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw he was watching them. She threw him frosty look. ‘Tell my husband he need not bother to change on my account. I’m more than happy with the company of the groom.’

  ‘You will wait.’ Gerard snapped, striding off towards the house without a backward glance.

  She simmered with resentment at being issued an order in front of a guest.

  Jeffrey stared thoughtfully towards his brother’s retreating back. ‘He seems out of countenance this morning.’

  ‘We’ve crossed swords,’ she said carelessly. ‘He can be a most aggravating man on occasion. I was compelled to point this out to him.’ Encouraged by Jeffrey’s grin, she whispered. ‘I’ve got no intention of obeying his order like some servant girl. If he’s not back in a few minutes, he can chase my tail.’

  The awe in Jeffrey’s eyes spurred her on. After a few minutes she decided Gerard’s time had run out and turned her face to the cold kiss of the wind. Eying the ragged streamers of clouds, she wondered if it would rain. Spring was almost upon them. Buds had swelled to bursting point, and there seemed to be an air of expectancy about everything—including the horses! Such a cacophony of squeals and snickers came from the stables she could hardly hear herself think as she walked towards Circe’s stall. Circe was so full of nervous energy Brian advised she should not be ridden. Knowing why, she tried to hide her excitement.