by Cheryl Bolen
He was spared from having to reply because Mr. Bottomworth, with a matronly woman Jack presumed to be Mrs. Bottomworth sitting next to him, directed his driver to pull up beside Jack and Daphne.
"Rich! I didn't have the opportunity to speak with you last night," Mr. Bottomworth said.
A good thing, Jack thought. Now that Bennington had indeed left English soil, Bottomworth was the only man in London whom Jack wished to avoid at all costs. Stiffening, Jack said, "A most enjoyable evening. A pity the duke and duchess don't entertain with more frequency."
"But then, my dear Mr. Rich," Daphne said, placing her hand on his sleeve, "their fetes wouldn't be so highly anticipated." She directed her attention at Mr. Bottomworth. "Was last night your first time at Glenweil House, Mr. Bottomworth?"
Daphne could always be counted upon to divert Bottomworth's critical appraisal.
"It was," Mr. Bottomworth said.
Daphne bestowed a smile upon the gentleman. "I believe theirs is the finest home in London. Do you not agree?" Her glance skimmed to the woman beside Bottomworth.
That woman smiled and nodded her agreement.
"Daresay it is," Mr. Bottomworth grumbled, then eyed Jack. "Pray, Rich, I should like to sponsor you at my club. We diamond fellows must stick together. What do you say?"
That Bottomworth desired a more intimate knowledge of him was most unwelcome. "What club would that be?"
"Whites."
Jack shrugged. "I regret to say Lord Sidworth is putting me up for membership at Boodles." He cast a knowing glance at Daphne. "And I shouldn't like Lord Sidworth to think I'm not appreciative."
Bottomworth's eyes narrowed. "A pity."
"Is it not a lovely day, Mr. Bottomworth?" Daphne asked, smiling at him like some insipid debutante.
"Indeed it is," Bottomworth and the woman to his right said at the same time. That prompted Bottomworth to present his wife to Lady Daphne and Jack before he continued along the lane.
Jack's phaeton came to circle the Serpentine, closely following the procession of impressive, open-topped conveyances that stretched in front of them. "Do you not find Mr. Bottomworth's interest in you a bit suspicious?" Daphne asked.
"A bit," he admitted, frowning. "But back to the woman at the theatre. Who was she?"
"Lady Ponsby."
The name was unfamiliar to him. "Have I met her?"
Daphne shrugged. "I'm not sure."
"Tell me everything about her. Of what age is she?"
"I would say she's between the age of me and my mother."
"And her husband?"
"Lord Ponsby's of the same age."
"They reside in London now?"
"Yes, on Curzon Street."
"I wish to meet them."
Daphne nibbled at her bottom lip. "Allow me to think on it."
"What's on for tonight?" he asked.
"Almack's," Daphne said, "where you'll no doubt be pressed upon to stand up with the woman who's closing in on us now, that odious Comtesse de Mornet."
He looked up from the ribbons to see the comtesse, alone in an open carriage and wearing bright orchid with a voluminous, plumed hat, smiling as she rode toward them. "Pray, my lady, why do you malign the Frenchwoman?" he asked Daphne before the comtesse was within earshot.
"Though I can overlook the fact she's a courtesan, I cannot overlook the fact she has ill used the royal duke. He's so sweet a man."
Jack recalled how familiarly the Duke of York had danced with Daphne on the previous night. And he stiffened. Could she have romantic feelings for the royal duke?
As the comtesse drew closer, Jack wondered if Daphne knew that the lady had offered herself to him.
"Good afternoon, Monsieur Rich," she said as she drew up alongside them. She gave Daphne a curt nod. "Lady Daphne."
Not giving Daphne a chance to respond, the comtesse returned her attentions to Jack. "I was utterly disappointed, Mr. Rich, that I was unable to dance with you last night."
"Not nearly as disappointed as I," he said.
Daphne kicked him, the movement concealed beneath her skirts.
"Pray, Monsieur Rich, will you be at Almack's tonight?" the comtesse asked.
"Lady Daphne and I both will be there."
The comtesse lowered her lashes seductively. "Then I beg that you waltz with me."
"It will be my pleasure."
She flicked her ribbons and her horse sputtered forward. "Until tonight, then."
Daphne mumbled under her breath. "And a good day to you, too, la comtesse."
Jack agreed the duke's mistress had been excessively rude to Daphne. And the woman had been excessively obvious in her attentions toward him. "You were saying the comtesse has ill used the Duke York. In what way?"
"Far be it from me to cast judgment upon her just because she has 'an arrangement' with the duke. If she truly cared for him, was solicitous of his feelings, I would never scorn her. But her only interest in him is in the value his connection gives her in terms of social acceptance and wealth."
"Then you have knowledge that she's had other lovers while accepting the duke's protection?"
Daphne's lips clamped.
"I understand you don't like to disclose other people's sins, but in this case, you must."
She nodded. "She's had other lovers since she came under Freddie's protection."
Freddie? Jack recalled the regent referring to his brother as Freddie. The two brothers, he gathered, were very close. And Daphne, it would seem, was very close to the Duke of York. "It likely has no bearing on the case," Jack said, "but I need to know everything."
"Perhaps your investigation can be furthered at Almack's tonight," she said. "I believe the Ponsbys will be there. They've a daughter to launch into society."
He shook his head. "We're right back to where we started. Nothing."
"I'll own it does seem most vexing." She swept a curly swatch of hair from her eyes. "Did Reginald St. Ryse say anything at all that you construed to be suspicious this morning?"
"There was one thing. He asked how I came to know you."
Her eyes rounded. "How decidedly odd! That's the kind of thing a woman would ask. Men, in my experience, have no curiosity whatsoever about such matters."
"That's what I thought." He caught a whiff of her fresh spearmint scent, and a rush of a powerful emotion he could not define came over him.
"What did you tell him?" she asked.
"The same thing we told your parents. We met at the book shop."
"Did he seem convinced?"
Jack nodded. "He said that was exactly the sort of place Lady Daphne would find a mate. You, my lady, have earned a reputation as something of a blue stocking."
"Rather a blue stocking than a Pretty Young Thing," she said, no mirth in her voice.
By now they had criss-crossed the park and were drawing toward the gates. "I hope our estrangement will not bar me from escorting you tonight," he said.
"Not at all. I had to concoct something to dissuade Papa from looking into your financial affairs, but it's best others think we're still in each others' pocket."
He found himself wondering if any other man would ever have the wisdom to be in Lady Daphne's pocket. How he envied that man.
Chapter 20
The twins were pounding on her chamber door, but she refused to unlock it, refused to allow them to see her like this. When she had been with Jack, she'd managed to erect an icy veneer, even though her very soul ached for him. The earl's daughter had been trained well. It wasn't until after their ride in the park that she hurried to her room, threw herself on her bed, and began to weep bitterly.
Their time together that afternoon dazzled at the same time it burned a gaping hole in her heart. She'd been as powerless to staunch the flow of memories of him as he'd been to forget the little things he'd learned of her. She understood his aversion to being praised, his propensity to tidiness; he knew of her revulsion at disclosing another's sins. And despite their estrangement, neither
of them had been able to completely suppress those recollections.
Yet the changes a day had wrought in him tore at her heart. His casual jesting, his sensuous grin, and--most painfully--his tender touch had all vanished like yesterday's ashes. All because of her cruel rejection of him the previous night.
She had come to know him so well that she could see beneath the stony shell he had erected to protect himself from her sudden iciness. Had he been more groveling, had he begged to know the source of their sudden rift, she might have more easily inured herself to the loss.
Captain Jack Dryden's pride was the unwavering banner that guided her painful estrangement from him. Because of that unyielding pride she had known she must turn him away now--before he completely lost his heart to her, before her father could crush the heart Captain Sublime did not give away lightly.
Instead of being hurt when he had tried to convince her his affections had been feigned, she knew he lied to conceal his true feelings.
She knew him that well. The certain knowledge that he possessed tender feelings for her brought a fresh wave of sobs.
With bitter regret, she knew no man could ever supplant Captain Jack Dryden in her heart.
"Let me in this instant!" Cornelia shrieked in her sternest duchess voice, the force of her knocks shaking the room.
Virginia spoke in a reverent hush. "I do believe she's weeping."
"I declare, Daf," Cornelia yelled, "I'll take an axe to the door if you don't let me in right now!"
How could Daphne face her married sisters? By now they had learned of her rejection of the most perfect of beings, and she was not at all sure she could convince them she'd had a change of heart. Especially if they saw her reddened eyes. The very fact that she never cried would attest to her fondness for "Mr. Rich."
"Dobbins!" Cornelia called to the butler, "fetch me an axe."
Daphne, because she was a dutiful daughter, could not risk her father's censure if she allowed her door to be destroyed. Squelching a whimper, she removed herself from her bed and splattered cool water upon her face, then strode to the door and yanked it open, glaring at her sisters.
The twins stared at Daphne as if she were a mummy raised from the dead. While Cornelia stood frozen, Virginia did a most peculiar thing: She launched herself at Daphne, hauling her elder sister into her generous bosom while she patted her back and cooed soothingly. "Poor Daf. I knew when you finally lost your heart, you'd fall hard."
Oddly, Daphne felt comforted over Virginia's soothing words.
Until she gazed down the corridor and saw her three youngest sisters poking their heads from their chambers. She motioned for the twins to enter her chamber then slammed and locked the door behind them.
Taking a cue from her twin, Cornelia also softened. "I declare, Daf, I've never seen you cry before."
"She must be madly in love with Mr. Rich," Virginia said.
Anger flashed in Cornelia's eyes as her hands braced at her hips. "Did that beast cry off?"
"He couldn't have!" Virginia shrieked. "Mama said Daphne's the one who broke the betrothal." Virginia gave Daphne a quizzing glance.
"As it happens," Daphne said, gathering her composure, "I did cry off."
Cornelia eyed Daphne skeptically. "Then why, pray tell, are you in such a funk over it?"
Collapsing onto her bed, her feet dangling off the edge, Daphne shrugged. "I suppose I've come to accept the mortifying thought that I'll never have a husband."
"But you could have had one!" Virginia pointed out. "An exceedingly handsome one at that. And I'll vow that Mr. Rich was most taken with you."
Daphne stared into her lap. "I'll own he was most affectionate, and though I do quite adore him, I could not tolerate living in South Africa." She could not malign him as a means of breaking the engagement. He was too fine a man.
The tender-hearted Virginia dropped to her knees onto the carpeted floor beside Daphne's bed and grasped her hand. "But dearest Daf, you can't let something so unimportant keep you from the man you love."
"And," Cornelia added as she came to sit beside Daphne, draping her arm around her much taller sister, "I daresay no man will ever love you as Mr. Rich does. He's so very wise and so genuinely affectionate toward you. He quite won over all of us."
"Mr. Rich and I have discussed this extensively," Daphne said, adopting a dramatic air, "and it just won't work. The mine is his only source of income, and to ensure its success he must personally oversee it."
A wide smile flashed across Cornelia's face. "Then he'll just have to sell it!"
In her greatest Mrs. Siddons fashion, Daphne lowered her lashes and sighed. "The terms of his father's will state that the mine must stay in the family." She was rather proud of her newfound talent for fabrication.
"You're being such a goose," Virginia said, no malice in her soft voice. "You're going to miss your opportunity for happiness just because you don't wish to leave us."
If only they knew. She would follow Jack to the ends of the earth--if it didn't mean crushing his blasted pride. Forcing a bright smile, Daphne said, "We're still excessively fond of each other. I daresay we'll have to settle for exchanging affectionate letters."
The twins exchanged stunned looks.
Cornelia sighed with exasperation as she faced Daphne. "Dearest, you must know there is something that is a great deal more . . . more pleasurable between a man and woman than writing affectionate letters."
Virginia's dark eyes flashed with mirth as she eyed her twin.
"Tell her, Virginia," the duchess commanded.
"You tell her," Virginia countered.
"I'm older than you by two minutes," Cornelia said, "and I order you to tell her!"
Virginia's eyes narrowed. "I can't tell her . . . that."
A sigh swished from Cornelia's lungs. "Oh, very well!" She seized Daphne's free hand. "To give yourself completely to the man you love is one of the greatest joys on earth." Cornelia's glance skipped to Virginia, whose brows lowered as she shook her head. "I believe you'll need to be a bit more specific," Virginia suggested.
Cornelia cleared her throat. "By 'give completely,' I mean to be made love to." She drew a deep breath. "To be made love to by a man one loves . . . to feel his body merging with yours is the most intense pleasure on earth."
Daphne was powerless not to picture Jack hovering above her, his dark, bare flesh sleek with sweat, as he gathered her into his arms. She could weep anew over her loss.
Her glance dropped to Virginia, whose brown-black eyes sparkled as she knelt before Daphne and nodded to every word uttered by her twin. Daphne counted slowly, trying to compose herself, trying to stomp Jack's vision from her mind. She must convince her sisters that she was the prudish spinster everyone thought her. "But I've merged my body with Mr. Rich's and did not find it all that gratifying."
Her sisters' eyes rounded.
"You've actually made love to Mr. Rich?" a shocked Cornelia asked.
It was difficult for Daphne not to laugh. "I believe so. I daresay you could ask Dobbins. He saw us. In the foyer."
If possible, the sisters' eyes grew even larger. "You made love with Mr. Rich--in the foyer--in front of the butler?"
Daphne nodded. "I declare, our bodies were so close, a spoon couldn't have wedged between us. And, of course, we were kissing. Is that not making love?"
"You . . . you were fully clothed?" Virginia asked.
Now Daphne looked shocked. "Certainly I was clothed! And so was Mr. Rich!"
The twins began to giggle. It was all Daphne could do not to join them. Instead, she fixed a stern look upon her face and said, "Pray, what is so exceedingly funny?"
Eventually the other ladies stopped laughing.
"You must tell me what you find so humorous," Daphne said.
The twins exchanged glances. "You tell her," Virginia said.
Cornelia bestowed her most duchessy glare at her twin and through gritted teeth began to speak to Daphne. "I don't believe, dearest, what you and
Mr. Rich did could precisely be described as making love."
Daphne gave her sister a blank look. "But we were kissing!"
"Kissing, dearest, is only part of making love."
"Pray," Daphne said, "what are the other parts?"
"You tell her," Cornelia said to Virginia.
"I can't tell her about . . . that."
"What, precisely is that?" Daphne asked.
Virginia directed a tender gaze at Daphne. "That, dearest, is what a husband and wife do to beget a child."
It was getting increasingly more difficult for Daphne to keep a straight face. "I should like to know more about that."
Cornelia gave another exasperated sigh. "That involves . . . a man's certain appendage."
"You know," Cornelia said, her glance dropping to her lap. "That part that's so distinctly different from ours."
Daphne's cupped hand clapped to her mouth, then she squared her shoulders and spoke haughtily. "I've seen Michelangelo's David--not in person, of course. But I've seen pictures of IT."
A sigh swished from Cornelia. "I don't suppose you're aware of the fact that when a woman and her husband make love that male appendage slips into the wife?"
Daphne shrieked. "Surely that's not what you claim is the most 'intense pleasure on earth'?"
The twins exchanged resigned expressions.
"Then I daresay," Virginia finally conceded, "you must not love Mr. Rich as I thought you did."
Cornelia shook her head. "Which I find utterly baffling. The man is a god. How could you not wish to . . . ?"
The very idea of . . . THAT . . . fired Daphne's core with molten heat. As she watched Cornelia, Daphne was overcome with the most convincing suspicion that Cornelia would like to have Jack make love to her. God but he was sublime!
"Will you see him again?" Cornelia asked.
"Yes. He'll be coming to Almack's with us tonight."
* * *
Jack was markedly different at Almack's that night. His demeanor to Daphne was stiff and cool, his persona to other women, charming and flirtatious. Especially to the Comtesse de Mornet, with whom he stood up twice. But even though Jack was all that was amiable with the comtesse and gave the appearance of hungrily gazing at her bulging bosom, Daphne was not the least bit jealous.
