by Lauren Smith
“Me?” Mr. Darby looked as if an assassin might pop out at any moment.
“He claims to have documents that prove you have been involved in smuggling goods into the country and he threatened to take that proof to the local magistrate.”
Mrs. Darby covered her mouth, her complexion paling. Perdita’s father put an arm around her shoulders.
“Breathe, Minerva. Just breathe.” He patted her shoulder, keeping a tight hold as he met Vaughn’s gaze. “That’s utter nonsense. I haven’t been involved in any such…” Darby struggled for words.
Vaughn nodded. “I believe you. We think he is working with your investment partners, arranging for you to take the blame for their illegal acts. Perdita feared Milburn and his evidence so much she came to me at my home in London and beseeched me to enter into a false engagement with her. As you may know, I have a somewhat unscrupulous reputation in certain circles. She hoped that an engagement to me would scare Milburn off. Unfortunately, our charade only made the bastard furious enough to attack her. In his twisted mind, he already owned her.”
Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Darby spoke for several seconds.
“But… Are you saying you aren’t going to marry her then?” Mrs. Darby finally asked.
“Far from it. A true affection has grown between us, and she has agreed to proceed with the wedding without false pretenses. Milburn won’t dare come after her if I’m there to protect her.”
“Why does he want to hurt her? I still don’t understand,” Mrs. Darby said. “Why didn’t he simply blackmail my husband directly? We have plenty of money. He could have demanded we pay him off. Why go after our daughter?”
“Why indeed? That is why I believe the evidence to be false. You would not pay a man off for fabricating a lie.”
Mr. Darby nodded at this. “I wouldn’t pay him a half penny for such a thing.”
“But how could your daughter possibly ask if such a scandalous accusation was true or not? And what if you denied it and she had doubt? That fear is what Milburn preyed on. Sometimes the thought of a misdeed can hold more power than the proof.”
Darby shared a knowing look with Vaughn before he continued.
“But it goes beyond that. Do you know the sort of man who buys a spirited horse because he likes to break the beast? He takes pleasure in destroying its spirit and ruining it until it’s a mindless, frightened scrap of horseflesh.”
Mrs. Darby nodded. Everyone knew that kind of man, a man who would kick a helpless pup or slap a woman for raising her eyes at him. Cruelty was the shield of many cowards.
“He’s such a man?” she asked Vaughn. “He saw my daughter’s spirit and fire, and he wanted to crush it?”
Vaughn sighed and nodded. “If we can save Perdita from him, then all we need to worry about is Milburn’s supposed proof. Even if it is fabricated, he may intend to harm your good name.”
Darby clenched his fists. “We can handle that. I’m not so foolish as my partners believe.”
“And you, Lord Darlington?” Mrs. Darby asked. “Are you the sort of man to hurt a woman like my daughter?”
“I would sooner end my own life. Perdita’s fire and spirit draw me to her. I feel alive in ways I haven’t felt in years. It would be an honor to take such a woman as my wife. That is why I offered to marry her. And it’s why she accepted. We wish to marry on Christmas Day. I already have the special license and hoped you could both help us arrange the ceremony.” A flutter of nerves bubbled up inside him as he waited to see how her parents would react to this.
Mrs. Darby sputtered. “But…that’s the day after tomorrow.”
“It is, but I see no reason to delay, only to make haste.”
Mr. and Mrs. Darby glanced at each other.
“You haven’t given us…reason to rush this, have you?” Darby asked.
Vaughn shook his head. “My concerns are regarding Milburn only. We’ve not gone so far in our passions for there to be cause for worry.” He admitted this bluntly, smiling a little. “It would seem she draws out the gentleman in me.”
“Good. Or I might’ve tossed you out in the snow as well,” Perdita’s father replied.
The door to the bedchamber opened. The doctor came out, closing his bag. The silver clasps clicked into place, and he faced them all, his face etched with worry.
“How is she, Henry?” Mr. Darby asked.
“A little shaken up. Her headache was fairly strong. I’ve given her a bit of a sleeping draught and bound her ankle to keep it from being turned again. She doesn’t wish to sleep alone, and she is still anxious. I was told she was attacked?”
“Yes,” Darby said. “The gentleman guilty of that act has been cast out of this house.”
“Good. She did not say if…” The doctor flushed. “How far the attack went.”
Vaughn understood what he wasn’t saying. “I stopped him before he could harm her in that fashion.”
The doctor’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Good. You are Lord Darlington, I take it?” Vaughn nodded. “She wishes to see you again. I asked if she wished to have her maid sent for, but she has declined. She only wants Lord Darlington.”
“Thank you.” Vaughn walked past him to enter Perdita’s bedchamber, but he paused in the doorway, staring at her father.
“I will stay the night with her. On my honor, my intentions are pure.”
Darby stared at him and nodded. “Very well.” He held his hand out to the doctor. “Let me see you to a room upstairs, unless you wish to ride home.”
“Thank you. I think I will stay the night.” The doctor followed Perdita’s father down the hall. Only Perdita’s mother lingered.
“Tell me you will love her,” she said earnestly. “After hearing what might have become of my daughter, I need to hear it.”
“I’ve never been in love, madam,” he replied solemnly. “But if there was ever someone worthy of my heart, it is she. Although I doubt I’m worthy of hers.”
For a moment, he saw Perdita clearly in her mother’s face. Had he really thought she was once a silly woman? Now he saw her as her daughter and husband did. A caring mother, a loving wife, a woman who wanted what was best for her child.
“That’s not exactly the answer I wished to hear.”
“I know,” he replied with a soft smile. “But you deserve the truth.”
“Do you really believe I’ll let you go in there with my daughter and spend the night after admitting you do not love her?” the lady challenged.
Vaughn paused with his hand on the door latch. “I admit to not feeling love; that does not mean I feel nothing. I am fond of her, so much so that I would pledge myself to her protection even if her heart belonged to another. She is frightened and ashamed of what happened to her, afraid that Milburn will come for her. I’ve seen women in her condition. They jump at every shadow. Even if you stayed with her and locked the door, she would not feel truly safe. I, on the other hand, will sit in a chair with a pistol aimed at the door all night if that is what is required.”
Mrs. Darby studied him hard, but at last she relented. “Very well. But if you hurt her…”
“Yes, I know. Your husband has mentioned my being buried where none shall find me on more than one occasion.” Vaughn offered her a wry smile before he slipped into the room and closed the door behind him.
He wished he could have said he loved Perdita, but he still didn’t know what being in love was like. He’d loved his brother, Edward. The love for a brother was a fierce love, a love that had rough edges and a toughness about it. Love for a woman was…well, it had to be different. He sensed that truth in his bones. It wasn’t lust, and it wasn’t friendship. What was it?
I want to love her. I want so badly what Gareth and Ambrose have found with their wives.
But the truth was he was afraid his heart was so hardened by his life that it could never soften enough to open up for another soul.
He studied her room before he faced her. He had been far too focused on her to notice anyt
hing before.
A telescope stood close to a set of French windows that opened onto a balcony. His little secret scientist and her tools. Half a dozen pillows were on the bed or chairs, and when he studied one more closely, he noticed the needlework showed familiar shapes. Constellations. The stich work wasn’t flawless by any means, and he suspected that she spent her time better by penning essays than practicing with a needle and thread. Rather than a dainty escritoire, she had a large desk covered in charts and writings.
Perdita lay on the bed, her eyes half-open, still glassy from the sleeping draught the doctor had given her. Around her, the bed hangings of a soft rose silk brocade with leafy patterns made her look like a princess half-asleep in her bed.
“Vaughn, you will stay, won’t you? I’m afraid of even the shadows.”
He came over to the bed and brushed the hair back from her cheek. “I’m going to stay. We should get you changed. Can you sit up?”
She struggled to sit up, and he knelt at her feet and removed her remaining slipper. Then he slid his hands up her skirts, removing her stockings. She placed her hands on his shoulders to keep her balance when she stood. He stroked her legs gently, and then he had her turn to face the bedpost. She did so without question while he unfastened the buttons down the back of her gown. And then it fell to the floor. Then she tugged her petticoats down, revealing a perfect set of hips and rounded behind.
“Almost done,” he promised, eyeing her stays. He took care to unlace them gently and not tug too hard so she didn’t lose her breath. Then they too fell to the ground. She stepped out of them, wearing only the loose chemise that came down to her knees. Vaughn pulled back the bedclothes and urged her to get under the covers. She sighed and curled up against her pillow, her hair falling in loose tumbles over it. He plucked the pins out of her hair one by one, then gently massaged her scalp to make sure there were no pins left.
Perdita sighed. “For the Devil of London, you have turned out to be quite an angel.”
“Am I?” he asked. The Devil of London. That nickname had always amused him. Given his choice of bed play, added to his reputation at the gambling tables, the ton had awarded him the unfortunate moniker.
“Yes.” She reached behind her to catch his arm and pulled him into the bed. “Lie with me.”
It was a command. Her eyes locked with his, and even though her gaze was soft and a little distant from the draught she’d taken, he saw the glint of determination to get her way.
He wasn’t about to ignore it. He removed his boots and slipped in the bed behind her. He curled one arm around her waist, tucking her against him.
“Don’t I scare you? You should be afraid of all men after what happened.” He wasn’t sure why he asked it, knowing the answer could be crushing.
She was quiet, her breathing slow. She wasn’t afraid of him. “Not all men are the same. And not all men saved me. Milburn is a monster. You…? You are my white knight.”
“I am no white knight, as much as I wish I could be. I’m afraid my armor is tarnished rather than shining.”
Perdita stroked his cheek with delicate fingertips, her eyes grave. “A knight in shining armor is a man whose metal has never been tested. And you have proven more than once just how strong your mettle is.”
Her words made his heart clench tight and she didn’t miss his play on metal and mettle. How could she know just the thing to say that made him feel both cut open and exposed, yet unafraid? Vaughn closed his eyes and sighed before he spoke again. “What can I do? Tell me and I will do anything for you.”
“Are you sure? You might not like what I ask.”
Vaughn expected some vow of vengeance against Milburn—which he would be happy to oblige. “Anything.”
“Then I wish to know you.”
That caught Vaughn short, and he wasn’t sure he was prepared for it. “Know me?”
“If we are to be married, I wish to know everything about you. I wish to know the man, not just the persona he woos women with.” She rolled over in his arms, and he could see her face, accented by winter moonlight.
His heart pounded. Would she even like such a man? One who was simply a person to her and not doing and saying the things he knew she wanted to hear? “What do you want to know about me?”
“Tell me something wonderful. Something that you cling to when the shadows threaten to drown you.” She put one hand to his jaw, her fingers exploring along his skin. Her touch burned in a wonderful way that made his heart skip.
“Something wonderful…” He would say this moment, but she was searching for his past. Something that revealed the true Vaughn to her. He swallowed thickly, knowing the memory he would share with her.
“I had a brother, Edward, who was older than me by five years.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother.” Her eyes, dark in the room, seemed to channel the thin glow of the moonlight from the window, like two pools frosted with ice, yet her gaze wasn’t cold. It made him feel warm to have such intensity focused on him.
“Edward was…well, perfect, and I mean that in the best way. He was intelligent, amusing, generous—he was simply the best. Our parents were drawn to him, as the eldest and the favored. But I didn’t hate him or the long shadow his life cast over mine. Far from it—he made me happy to be me, just Vaughn, Edward’s little brother. We would go riding in the late summer, just the two of us, racing through the glens. He always let me win. Even when my gelding threw a shoe once, he stopped his horse, walked back to me, and announced I had beaten him. That was exactly the sort of man he was. And I could never measure up to that.” His voice caught on the last few words, and he didn’t speak for a moment.
Perdita’s fingers stilled on his throat, and he felt her tremble. “What happened to him?”
Vaughn tried to smile. “Let’s leave it at that. You asked for something wonderful, after all.”
“I asked to know everything about you. Good and bad. What happened?”
Vaughn’s throat felt like he had swallowed shards of glass. “He went riding alone one day. I was only sixteen at the time. I was away at Eton, and he was tending to the estate. He was thrown from his horse and died from the fall.”
He shut his eyes, holding Perdita close, clinging to her as pain that he’d buried long ago clawed its way up. He remembered receiving the letter at his rooms in Eton. His mother’s spidery handwriting on the parchment was blotted with tears as she’d informed him Edward had died. His heart, whatever had still been open to life and love, had turned to stone that day.
“You loved him dearly,” she said.
“I did.” He dared not open his eyes, because the treacherous tears would cling to his lashes.
“That means you can love, Vaughn. It means that someday you might even love me.” She brushed one finger over his lips, as though memorizing the shape and the feel of them.
A strange tremor ran through Vaughn. He thought back on each kiss he’d stolen from her, how she’d returned that fire, but it had always seemed like something more in a way he couldn’t describe. To hear her speak of love, of hoping that someday he would love her, he realized then that she was telling him that she loved him. It was frightening and exciting, and he didn’t know what to do except hold on to her and breathe as emotions ran riotously through him.
In that moment, he knew that if he lost Perdita, he would never recover, never come back from such devastation.
“Sleep now. I am here to watch over you.” He kissed her brow, and she tucked herself tighter against him. All would be well. He had to believe that.
Chapter 10
Perdita did not wake until midday. The bed was empty, but the imprint where Vaughn had lain was still warm to the touch. She had been so tired after taking the sleeping draught, but she hadn’t forgotten what he’d told her about his brother, about loving and losing him. She had seen the pain in his eyes and heard the catch in his voice. Her viscount’s heart was not made of stone or even ice. It was there, beating and bleeding
, just like her own.
She climbed out of bed, wincing at the stiffness of her muscles. It was going be a long day, and tonight was the supper and the ball, which meant she’d have little time for rest. She lifted her head when her maid came in.
Beth came over and gave her a gentle hug. “My lady. I was told about last night by your mother. I am so sorry! Why didn’t you send for me?”
“It’s all right, Beth.” She patted Beth’s back before she released her. “I didn’t wish to wake you, and honestly…I wanted to be left alone after what happened.” She wouldn’t admit to Beth that she’d been ashamed of being attacked and that she’d felt foolish.
Her maid stared at her before she spoke, as though she understood Perdita’s feelings. “I do wish you had sent for me. I wouldn’t have…” Beth struggled for words. “You’re my lady, and I would have done anything to help you.” The maid hugged her again. Perdita’s eyes pricked with tears as she patted the girl’s back.
“Thank you, Beth.” For a long moment, neither of them spoke, but when Beth straightened, Perdita had banished her fear and was acting as normal as possible.
“I’ve been given strict orders that you are to remain off your feet, miss, except for dinner. And you are not allowed under any circumstances to dance.”
“But—”
“Not one step.” Beth began to lay out a fresh dress and slippers. It was a white gown.
“Please, not that one. Surely I can at least choose what I wear.”
Beth gave her a challenging stare. “And just which gown did you expect to wear?”
“I was hoping to wear my blue gown, the one with the white roses on the bodice and sleeves. I wish to wear a new gown, and it will help me stand out among the other ladies who will likely wear white, red, or green to celebrate Christmas Eve.”
