Duchess Beware (Secrets & Scandals Book 2)

by Tiffany Green

Andrew’s brows snapped together. “What? Why?”

  “Megan was taken from him by another, and that was something he could have avoided.”

  A frown pulled at the corners of Silver’s lips as she digested those words. She remembered seeing Megan rise up to kiss Daniel’s cheek at the lake as she and Nicholas arrived. The memory still made her chest pinch something awful.

  “Are you suggesting Daniel was so heartbroken over Lady Megan’s marriage, he wed Silver as a result?”

  Silver raised a hand over her mouth, utterly sickened by the thought.

  “Precisely so,” the dowager said with a nod. “Although I am convinced something happened in Scotland as well and why the marriage was so rushed.”

  Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes, not wanting to hear another word. The reason for Daniel’s odd behavior, which coincidentally began with Megan’s arrival, became painfully clear. The dowager must be right. Her fingers bit into the arms of the chair. She felt like such a fool.

  She had also declared her love to Daniel. Silver groaned inwardly. Daniel hadn’t returned the vow of love. Why? Because he didn’t love her. He still loved Megan.

  Squeezing her eyes shut even tighter, Silver shook her head, hoping the action would rattle that terrible thought out. It didn’t. And a raw, ferocious pain exploded within her, nearly taking her breath away. She pressed a hand to her chest and gulped in some air. Her heart thundered against her palm.

  Then rage found its mark.

  Silver opened her eyes and welcomed the turbulent feelings heating her body, giving her strength. Rage helped divert some of the pain to a dark corner of her heart so she wouldn’t fall apart. Not yet. Setting the forgotten book in her lap aside, she stood and marched from the room, vaguely aware that Andrew and the dowager had already left.

  Pity. She could have vented some of her anger.

  Silver stormed directly to her husband’s study and threw open the door without knocking. The brass handle banged hard against the wood paneling, making the slender man sitting at the small desk off to the side of the room jump.

  She gave him a pointed glare. “Out,” she snapped and would have laughed if she hadn’t been so furious.

  The poor fellow stumbled to his feet, managing to upset the chair behind him. Papers and quills shot up in the air, then fluttered to the floor. In his haste to retrieve the documents, he overturned his inkwell. It oozed a black puddle on the center of his desk, ran over the front edge, and dripped right onto the expensive Persian rug.

  While he rushed to straighten the inkwell, apologizing profusely, Silver planted her hands on her hips. “I said out. Now!”

  The secretary bowed, smearing ink over the front of his tan pants, and scampered from the room with one of the documents stuck unnoticed to the bottom of his shoe.

  When the door closed with a soft click, Silver turned to her husband. Ignoring how sinfully handsome he looked as light from the open window formed a halo around his wavy dark hair, she allowed him to see the full measure of her fury.

  “Silver, what—?”

  “When did Megan and Nicholas marry?”

  His green eyes narrowed and he rose from his chair. “Have a seat.” He indicated with his hand one of the brown leather chairs before his desk.

  She shook her head, unwilling to move any closer to him. “When did Megan and Nicholas marry?” She clenched her jaw when she spoke to keep from roaring the words. The answer already came when she recalled Lady Longley’s announcement in Aunt Caroline’s drawing room. But she wanted to hear the truth from Daniel. She wanted to know everything.

  “What does that matter?”

  Her pulse pounded so hard in her ears, she could hardly hear. With a deep breath, she forced herself to calm a bit. “It matters to me.”

  Daniel assessed her, probably trying to sort out her words and why she was so angry. “They have been married four months.”

  She slid her eyes closed. He did know. Even before he boarded the ship to Scotland, he knew Megan and Nicholas had married. The dowager’s words to Andrew just a few minutes ago echoed in her ears. She forced her eyes back open. “You were engaged to Lady Megan, correct?” She had to push the question past her lips while she still had an ounce of anger to give her courage.

  He hesitated. “Yes.”

  “But she married Nicholas instead.”

  He clenched his jaw. “Yes.”

  Silver bowed her head, dismay chasing away the remainder of her anger, making her weak and hollow inside. But she couldn’t leave yet. Not without hearing the truth from Daniel’s lips. Squaring her shoulders, she faced her husband. “Who broke the engagement, you or Megan?” It took every effort to keep her voice even.

  When he remained silent, she took a deep breath and pressed him. “I must know, Daniel.”

  He drew his brows and started to step forward but must have thought better of it and stopped. “Why? Why must you know?”

  “Because it’s important to me.” She gripped the sides of her dress, already knowing the answer to this question as well. And like before, she had to hear him say the words.

  “Silver, you ask the—”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “All right, she broke the engagement.”

  She turned away and wrapped her arms around her body, as though she would shatter and needed to hold the pieces together. Just as she suspected, he had not broken the engagement. That meant Megan’s feelings, not Daniel’s, had changed. Seeing her with Nicholas, Silver could guess the reason. Dear God, the dowager was right. Daniel had taken the trip to Scotland to mend his broken heart.

  She glanced down at the business documents scattered over the colorful rust, beige, and bottle green rug. He had to have felt strongly about leaving to abandon such important matters. She remembered the miniature he carried in his pocket. And her thoughts turned to Daniel and Megan together at the lake.

  Silver knew something had changed between her and Daniel, and it happened the moment Megan stepped through the front door. A tremor went through her as she silently admitted what was plain to see. What it seemed everyone saw.

  “You still love her, don’t you?” she said softly, terrified of his answer more than any other. She slowly faced him, having to hear him say the rest. “Is that the reason you’ve become so distant?”

  His brows shot up, then lowered over his eyes. “Love,” he repeated, his lips twisting into a frown. Glancing down to his desk, he reached out and grazed the surface with his fingertips. “Love is destructive.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked and held her breath.

  When he glanced up, his eyes glittered with some fierce emotion she could not name. “Love will not be a part of this marriage, Silver.”

  With a gasp, she stumbled back a step, trying to process his words. He refused to love her. Spinning around, she skirted the mass of papers and the large ink stain, and fled.

  Daniel didn’t follow.

  ****

  The hunter sat in a dark corner trembling. Fran hadn’t come home. Again. He’d had to eat another meal alone, drink another glass of port alone, and spend another bloody evening alone. God, how he hated being alone.

  Visions of her with her lover tormented him day and night. How she must be spreading her legs, playing the whore.

  Glancing at the long sharp blade on the table before him, he vowed this would not go on forever. Surely, Frannie would come to her senses and come home. Wouldn’t she?

  He snatched up the bottle of wine at his elbow and poured another drink. A contented sigh escaped his lips after he gulped down half the pungent red liquor. Fran would come to her senses. His eyes strayed to the reflection on the cold steel, to the red locks tied together with a pale blue ribbon. His plan would guarantee his wife’s return.

  Then terrible thoughts meandered their way into his mind. What if Fran didn’t want him anymore? What if she no longer loved him? What if she preferred her lover?

  Perhaps she wished t
o escape him and never return. Then he would be alone, forever.

  Desperation gripped his insides, making his body cold and numb. Of course she wanted to escape him. The bitch had even gone so far as to change her name. She went by Silver now.

  He drank down the last of the wine, a few droplets leaking from the corner of his mouth. He swiped away the liquid with the back of his hand and picked up his Vengeance. Soon, he thought, smiling over the deadly blade, his teeth gleaming white on the polished metal. Very soon. Fran would pay for her betrayal. Just like last time.

  Just like next time.

  Chapter Seventeen

  As Silver stomped out of the mansion, she controlled her despair like she always had—with anger. Just when the agony of Daniel’s words would start to torment her, she would get furious. How dare that man marry her out of pity in order to nurse his own broken heart! She continued to walk, giving no thought of direction, until she found herself in the midst of the flower garden at the rear of the mansion.

  Crossing her arms, she examined the flamboyant paradise and frowned. Too rotten flashy. She gazed at the roses, tulips, and peonies perfuming the air, nearly gagging her with their sweetness. The marble statues, stone benches, and gurgling fountains had been strategically placed along the pebbled walkways, and her frown deepened. Too rotten perfect. Even the grand oval lake surrounded by fir trees made her eyes hurt from its beauty.

  All of it reminded her of her imperfections. Many imperfections. She made an awful duchess. No wonder Daniel couldn’t love her.

  Releasing a weary sigh, Silver moved toward the lake, taking one of the paths that meandered through the blossoming milieu. She plopped down on the bench near the end of the walkway and watched a dove chase another around in the sky. But no matter how hard she tried to concentrate on something else, her thoughts returned to Daniel.

  Dear God, he didn’t love her.

  What would she do now?

  A fish jumped, the splash making ripples over the glassy surface, and Silver’s eyelids grew heavy. The wave ring widened over the lake until it smoothed out and disappeared. Her mother once told her the lake fairies carried secret messages on the waves. Perhaps one of the fairies would come tell her what to do. She never felt so lost and alone.

  With a yawn, she leaned over to rest on the bench. Perhaps if she closed her eyes a minute, she could think straight again. The warmth of the sun kissed her cheek, reminding her of how her mother used to tuck her into bed all those years ago. The only time she ever felt safe and loved. And as she drifted off to sleep, she could swear someone stood over her, blocking out the sun.

  A voice in her ear jarred Silver awake. With a gasp, she sat up and glanced around, blinking the sleep from her eyes. The ripples in the lake caught her attention and for a moment she thought the fairies had come to speak to her. But the voice had been familiar, and it made her shudder. Victor’s voice always made her shudder.

  A slight breeze moved across her cheek, stirring a stray curl, and brought the faintest scent of a man’s peppery cologne.

  The same fragrance Victor wore.

  As her skin prickled with alertness, Silver scanned the nearby trees, her heart pounding in her ears.

  Nothing.

  Feeling something sharp biting into her palm, she glanced down. Her fist clutched the stem of a dark red rose in full bloom. How did that get there? With a deep breath, she dropped the rose onto her lap and examined her surroundings again, just to be certain no one lurked about.

  The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Someone watched her.

  Silver surged to her feet, the rose tumbling to the ground, and ran. Near the end of the path, she crashed directly into a large chest. Slowly, she looked up, terrified to see who it was. The world tilted for a moment then straightened. “Connor, what are you doing here?” she whispered.

  “When ye wrote us aboot the weddin’, ye said tae come and visit, remember?” His face contorted in concern. “Goud heavens, lassie, wha’ has happened tae ye?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, trying to catch her breath.

  His brows came slowly together, his eyes shining with concern. He grazed her cheek with warm, calloused fingers. “Yer face is pale, you’re trembling, an’ ye look scared tae death. Now wha’ gave ye such a fright?”

  Silver closed her eyes against his tenderness and took a deep breath. When her nerves settled, she glanced up at him with a wide smile, praying he wouldn’t see how much effort that took. Then she grabbed his arm and turned them away from the lake. “It was silly now that I think on it,” she said as they neared the mansion.

  He hesitated for just a moment before allowing her to lead him inside. “Wha’ was silly?”

  She shook her head. “You’ll laugh.”

  “Nay, I’ll no’ laugh. Tell me.”

  “You had better not laugh, Connor.”

  He held up his hands. “I promise not tae laugh, lass. Tell me.”

  She sighed. “I thought I saw a snake.”

  “That’s wha’ this is aboot?” he asked as John the footman bowed and opened the drawing room door. “Ye were afraid of a bleedin’ snake?”

  Pausing just within the room, Silver faced her brother. “Well, Connor, the snake was rather large,” she said with a grimace, her thoughts on Victor Merrick. The man disturbed her, even if she had only imagined him being there.

  “But lass, ye used tae play wi’ snakes. Don’t ye remember? Ye even had one as a pet. Called him Newton, ye did. And ye would scare the devil out o’ Jamie all the time. Remember?”

  Hearing some startled gasps, Silver turned and found two ladies she didn’t recognize sitting on the sofa gaping at them. On the perpendicular sofa, Torie had her head bowed, studying the lacey edge of her sleeve, and the dowager, lowering her teacup, looked ready to throttle both her and Connor.

  For the life of her, she could not keep her lips from curving up. Perhaps the day would improve after all.

  Before anyone could speak, Daniel appeared. She didn’t know if she wanted to kick him or run into his arms. “Ah, I see you’ve found her, Connor,” he said, his face growing blank as it did of late.

  Connor nodded, then chuckled. “Aye, Huntington. An’ would ye believe she was afraid of a snake?”

  For the first time since Megan and the others had left, a smile lurked in her husband’s eyes. His lips even twitched. “That does stretch the imagination a bit.”

  Silver still felt like kicking him.

  When a couple of clicks sounded, she found the dowager’s guests had snapped open their ivory fans and were frantically waving them an inch from their noses.

  “My ladies, have you had the opportunity to meet my wife?” Daniel asked.

  Simultaneously, the two women shook their heads.

  “Well then, I present Sylvia Claiborne, the Duchess of Huntington.” The ladies closed their fans and stood. “Silver, our neighbors to the east, Lady Crandall and Lady Trent,” he said, each lady giving a wobbly curtsy. He turned to Connor. “And her brother, Mr. Connor MacLaren.”

  Lady Crandall and Lady Trent gave another curtsy, even more pitiful than the one before.

  Less than ten minutes later, as Silver watched Lady Crandall’s black conveyance race down the drive, she wondered if Society would have a similar reaction at her debut. It certainly would be amusing. Now that she knew the reason Daniel had married her, it no longer mattered what his friends thought of her.

  Connor excused himself to visit with Garrett. Daniel had already retreated back to his study, and Aunt Prudence was resting upstairs. Silver headed to the library. That was the one room she hoped to find a smidgen of solace. Usually, she could open a book and escape her troubles, but she wasn’t so sure that would work this time. Her troubles ran much deeper than Caroline’s caustic words or Katrina’s thieving little fingers swiping her brothers’ gifts.

  Marching into the warm room and up to a shelf, she removed the third book to her left and brought it to the table she had be
en using to make translations from one language to another. She wanted to keep her linguistic skills sharp.

  Prudence entered the room with her sewing basket an hour later, as she often did in the afternoon, and sat in one of the wingback chairs nearest the fireplace.

  “I saw your brother just now.” She lifted a scrap of blue material from the basket, a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. “I don’t think the dowager is too pleased.”

  Silver opened a fresh book she had retrieved and scanned several pages. “The dowager is never pleased.”

  Her aunt chuckled. “Now that is true.”

  Finding the right passage, she slid a clean sheet of parchment before her and dipped a sharpened quill into the ink. Adjusting her spectacles, she concentrated on interpreting the words of the book into another language.

  “When are we leaving for London?”

  Silver halted from scribbling the Latin she read into German and glanced over her shoulder. Prudence worked on her sampler, her expression all too innocent. She narrowed her eyes. What could the old dear be up to this time?

  “I haven’t given that any thought,” she said, turning back to the sheath of papers. Dipping the end of the quill into the ink, she continued her work. Then her hand stilled. Perhaps she should not even appear for the wretched debut and wondered how much of a scandal that would create. That would serve the dowager duchess right. But she didn’t think she could do that to Megan, who was planning the event.

  The irony of how much Silver actually liked Daniel’s ex-fiancé, the very lady he still loved, was not lost on her. Pressing her lips firmly together, she continued translating the document.

  “Are you going to tell me why you’re upset, or should I guess?” Prudence asked a moment later.

  The quill stopped in mid-word. With a sigh, she set the writing utensil aside, frowning at the sight of her stained fingers, and swiveled around to face her aunt.

  “Why do you think I’m up—?”

  “Don’t give me that nonsense.” Prudence leveled her with a pointed look. “Stop holding things in. That has always been your problem, even since you were young.” She softened her voice. “You can’t keep doing that, child. It isn’t good for you.”