“My lord.”
Dismissing the aged servant for the night, Daniel briefly eyed the top of the stairs. Alas, after a lifetime of living on no sleep with only sin and spirits to sustain him, retiring at the eleven o’clock hour was as possible as having the power to manipulate time. He strode down the corridor, seeking out his offices. No doubt, Daphne had long retired by this late hour. After three evenings spent at his clubs and various ton functions, but for glimpses of her and Alice during the day, he’d had little interaction with her.
Given the vicious wagers being bandied about Town, it was for the best. Nor, with the charges she’d leveled at him of disloyal friend, of which he most decidedly was, did she care to see him, nor should he wish to see her. He’d long existed for nothing outside his own comforts and happiness and, as such, was not in the habit of suffering through the company of people who didn’t desire his presence.
Why should she desire my presence? He’d all but forgotten her existence, abandoned her during her Season, and coerced her into assisting Alice, withholding letters of reference she desperately required. The greatest crime, however, had been the inadvertent one—the one that had found her prey to a rake, when he, with his own unscrupulous experience, could have watched for those other ruthless bastards.
His stomach muscles clenched reflexively and he paused at the corridor leading to his office. Then, something pulled him away from that room, where he’d do nothing more than continue his path to inebriation. He wandered down the hall and stopped beside the open doors that spilled out to the ballroom.
Tomorrow evening, would be the beginning of the end to Daphne’s tenure. Alice would make her official entry into Society and from there Almack’s. Then there would be an endless parade of infernal affairs until she found a husband. A fortnight ago, he’d wanted nothing more than to be rid of his sister and free to resume his carousing. Now, hovering outside the room, he wanted to freeze time, keep it still, where there was Daphne, unafraid to tease him, scold him, or talk with any real freeness. Or rather, discourse that didn’t begin and end with the ultimate goal of sexual gratification.
He yanked his silver flask from inside his jacket and uncorking it, raised it to his lips. …When you drink, you aren’t really present. You are a ghost… With a curse he recorked and pocketed his flask. Good God, he must be tired. Or insane. Or mayhap both. He, Daniel Winterbourne, the Earl of Montfort, rightly feared by all proper mamas, waxed on in silent maudlin thought for Daphne’s inevitable departure. Not even a healthy dose of liquor would help this madness. Daniel started to turn, but froze mid-movement.
Moonlight streamed through the floor-length window down the left wall of the ballroom, bathing the cavernous space in a soft glow. The bluish-white rays danced upon the neat row of chairs positioned at the far corner of the room. A lone figure sat perched on the edge of the middle seat, her hands folded on her lap, and her cane resting on the adjacent chair.
He should leave. Pretend he’d not seen her tucked away in the corner. Then, he had never done what he was supposed to—not as a mischievous boy and certainly not as a rakish man.
Mayhap he didn’t see her. Mayhap, he’d turn on his heel, that silver flask in hand, and lose himself in spirits, as rogues and rakes often did.
“Miss Smith.” His quiet baritone echoed in the empty ballroom.
She sighed. Daniel had never done what was expected of him. Then, neither had she.
“My lord,” she greeted, struggling to her feet.
He held a hand up. “There is no need to stand on my account,” he assured, stalking forward. Daphne studied him as he took strong, confident strides, easily closing the space between them. She had been without proper use of her left leg for so many years that she no longer recalled whether such movements came as natural gifts of elegance or rather were something one strove toward.
So many times, envy gripped her when presented with such ease. But staring at Daniel’s assured steps, her mouth went dry with an appreciation that stirred low in her belly.
In one fluid movement, he settled into the seat directly beside hers and stretched his legs out, hooking them at the ankles. He draped his arm along the back of her seat, brushing her nape with his fingers. Dangerous shivers radiated from the point of his absent touch.
Rakes were men who filled voids of silence with empty talk and clever words. Daniel, however, just sat staring out, his gaze fixed on the pillar directly across from them, draped in garland made of ivory and white hydrangea. The fragrant floral scent permeated the ballroom and Daphne inhaled deep.
Three days ago, she’d resurrected the needed barriers between them. For as she’d said, he was no longer a friend, but a rake, dangerous in what he made her feel, longing she’d not even known with Leopold. But this was Daniel and she would never, ever be able to truly shut him out. “It is beautiful,” she said wistfully.
He glanced around, perplexed.
She motioned to the ballroom, adorned in boughs and garlands of white and green hydrangea. Grabbing her cane, she pushed to her feet and limped to the middle of the dance floor. “How very empty and silent it is now. Tomorrow, it will be ablaze with life and music and laughter.” A wistful smile played on her lips. In a way, she rather preferred it with only they two here and the hum of silence their only music.
“Did you enjoy it?”
She looked to him.
“Your Season,” he clarified, his gaze, even in the dimly lit space, radiating a somberness so different than the charmer he was.
“When I was a girl, when I arrived in London, all I wanted was to attend my first ball. I had dreams of how it would be.” She motioned to the empty dais where the orchestra would be set tomorrow evening. “There would be haunting waltzes and lively reels.” She closed her eyes to the music playing in her mind. “When I came to London,” she said, losing herself in that remembrance. “I was filled with such excitement, I didn’t allow myself to think about how it would be.” As a cripple. She let those words go unsaid. Daniel watched her so closely, her skin pricked with the intensity of the gaze he trained on her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly and heat flooded her cheeks.
She’d not have his pity. “For one month, I was lonely. Miserable. Wanting to go back to my father’s cottage.” She pivoted around to where he still lounged. The tightness around his hard lips belied his relaxed repose. “I sat in those chairs.” She smiled. “Well, not those chairs, but wherever the neat row was set up for forgotten ladies were the ones I occupied. I did not dance one set,” she murmured, her gaze unseeing, fixed on the gold candelabra behind him. “Not one.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “But then, I forced myself to explore the world around me, a place I’d never been, and came to appreciate the museums and parks.” Daphne smiled, recalling the moment she’d stepped outside the townhouse, determined to command her happiness.
Daniel shoved slowly to his feet. “I should have been there,” he said, his tone gruff as he came closer.
She offered him a half-smile. “Yes, you should have.”
“If I had been there, where you were…” She’d not have had her innocence so calculatedly stolen.
Sadness assailed her. “Many times you were.”
He started.
She looked away, staring out at the orchestra’s dais once more. That long ago night flitted forward. The first glimpse she’d caught of Daniel upon arriving in London. How gloriously handsome he’d been in his impeccable black garments and wearing a half-grin on his face. “We attended many of the same events.”
“Surely not?” he demanded, hoarsely.
“Surely,” she countered. “You just…did not see me, Daniel. You were too busy.” Flirting on the sidelines with gloriously clad beauties and voluptuous creatures with rouged lips and eyes. How she’d despised those ladies for having replaced her and earned Daniel’s affection in ways she’d only dreamed. “I sat in those seats, in awe of your confidence amongst the ton.” She chuckled. “I
spent so many nights hating you for your ease.”
Daniel caressed his knuckles down her cheek in a whispery soft touch. “I am so sorry.” He stilled. Then, as long as she’d known him, he’d never been one to apologize. He’d often found a roundabout way of distracting a person from any crime he’d been guilty of before uttering them.
She frowned at him. “Don’t you dare go pitying me.” Not wanting that pulling emotion, Daphne stepped away, wandering deeper into the ballroom. “It was not all bad.” For a time, it had been gloriously wonderful. Ultimately, she’d paid the price for that excitement. She stopped in the middle of the dance floor, under the enormous chandelier. “After a month of misery, I met him.” She tilted her head and stared at those crystal teardrops dangling from that grand piece.
“Did you love him?” Daniel called behind her, bringing her attention back.
The flippant words on her lips about rakes not knowing of or believing in love faded with the somber set to his chiseled features. “I loved what he told me,” she said, in truth. “I loved how he made me feel and the excitement that came with a man such as him ever wanting…” A woman such as me. She grimaced. With a woman’s eyes, she now saw what easy prey she’d been for a man like Lord Leopold Dunlop. The second son of a powerful nobleman, he’d been untitled, but that truth had never mattered. She’d been so desperate for affection she’d given him a gift he’d never deserved. In the days after his betrayal, she’d resolved to never be a weak, pathetic woman dependent on any gentleman. She straightened and then gasped, finding Daniel a handful of steps away. Her heart thumped hard at his nearness. “Do you know how many times he danced with me?”
He gave his head a slight shake, dislodging a chestnut lock. “How many?” His was a harsh demand.
Daphne stretched her fingertips and brushed the loose strand back; luxuriant like satin. Unlike Lord Leopold’s who’d caked his hair in thick oil. “Not once, Daniel,” she murmured. “Through the whole of my Season, we didn’t dance even one set. I told myself it was because he loved me and didn’t wish me to humiliate myself. I later learned different.” Never before had she breathed word of Lord Leopold Dunlop to anyone. He existed as nothing more than a past mistake, one she didn’t allow herself to think on. In speaking of those three months to someone, there was something freeing that left her with a lightness in her chest. Of course, it should be Daniel. There had only ever been him in her life. Terror battered at her senses. For there could never be anything between her and Daniel. Nothing, honorable.
An animalistic growl rumbled deep in his chest. With the fiery rage burning from within the depths of his eyes, he was the boy who’d beat one of the villagers’ sons for having stolen a kiss from her when she’d been a girl of ten. “No wonder you hate me. It was my fault.”
She puzzled her brow.
He slashed the air with his hand. “If I had been there—”
Her small bark of laughter cut into his misplaced guilt. “The arrogance of you, Daniel Winterbourne, taking ownership of my mistake.” She looked him squarely in the eye. “It was my mistake and you being my friend would have never undone it.”
A thick silence descended on the ballroom.
Daphne shattered it. “I should return to my—” Her words ended on a gasp as he shot an arm out and curved it about her waist. With his spare hand, he tossed aside her cane, where it landed with a noisy clatter upon the marble. She eyed the brown stick and then swiveled her gaze up to Daniel’s. “What are you doing?” she asked, breathless from the press of his hand through the fabric of her dress.
He lowered his lips close to her ears and the hint of brandy and cinnamon, an intoxicating blend of strong and sweet, filled her senses. “Eighteen years is entirely too long to not dance or swim or ride. I’m dancing with you, Daphne.” How many times during her Season had she secretly wished to be waltzed about by him? “The bastard who stole your virtue was a bloody fool, without a jot of sense to see the treasure he held.”
And God help her for the folly from which she would never recover from, Daphne fell deeper in love with him, there amidst the empty ballroom with the London stars twinkling outside the crystal windows as her witness. It was folly and dangerous, and far worse than any mistake she’d made with Lord Leopold and, yet, it had always been Daniel. With her mind churning slowly, he guided her through the first step.
“Relax, Daphne,” he whispered, against her ear. “I’ll not bite.” He flashed another one of his seductive grins. “Unless you wish it.” And just like that, the panic dissipated and she laughed. Relaxing in his arms, she turned herself over to this moment.
She’d loved Daniel Winterbourne since he’d carried her across the countryside. And she loved him for being a man who didn’t see her disfigurement…a man who saw she was capable and not an object to be pitied. And a man who made her feel alive. In ways she’d never had in the whole of her life. There would never be more, could never be more. With his love for wickedness, Daniel would never be constant and she could never be with a rake. But there would be this and it would be enough.
Liar. I want all of him… Daphne faltered and he gripped her, deepening this relentless hold he’d managed. “I am falling all over you,” she said, under her breath.
Daniel gave her a slow, wicked wink. “I am accustomed to it, love,” he purred, startling another laugh from her. He joined her, that deep rumbling from his chest was unfettered and deep, pure in his joy. And how beautifully wonderful it was to share in his unfettered abandon.
“You are hopelessly arrogant, Daniel Winterbourne,” she said, after their like amusement had faded. Handsome. Clever. Charming. He was nearly everything most ladies aspired to. Nearly. He’d never be faithful and, for that, there could not be anything with him. Her heart paused. Of course there couldn’t. To him, she’d only ever be the girl he’d once been friends with and, now, was a companion for his sister. His gentle caress and tender embrace were no different than anything he’d given to so many women before her.
Daniel guided her in a small circle and she tripped again. He easily caught her to him, angling her so her weight shifted over to her right leg. She winced, as her muscles strained in protest to the foreign movements. As though in concert with her body, Daniel drew her close and anchored her to him while he twirled her in slow circles. He touched his lips to her temple and she slid her eyes closed in response. “You deserved a waltz to an orchestra’s hum.”
That hoarse declaration squeezed at her heart. This is all I ever needed. A wave of regret clenched at her with a vicious tenacity—a useless wish that he’d been anything but a rake. With his gaze, he roved a path over her face. Slowly, he brought them to a slow stop beside the dais.
Daphne’s chest heaved with the force of emotion. Just over a week ago, he’d called her spiritless, but ultimately, he’d opened her eyes to the truth. In the eighteen years since she’d fallen, she had not truly been alive. She’d existed, but not truly lived. The one time she’d dipped her toes in the water of living, it had ended in folly. A folly that had made her retreat within herself. I don’t want to run anymore. She wetted her lips and his gaze went to her mouth. “Daniel,” she whispered.
He briefly closed his eyes and his mouth moved, as though in prayer. “You should go, Daphne,” those words emerged garbled.
“Why?” She brushed her palm over the tense muscles of his cheek.
Daniel sucked in a slow, jagged breath. “Because I want to kiss you. I want to do a whole lot more with you and I’m trying to be honorable.” His chest rose and fell quickly, and tenderness unfurled within her at his struggle.
A war raged within his brown eyes. Warmth filled her chest. The world saw only a rake and, yet, for all his efforts to prove the contrary, there was a gentleman alive within him. “I want you to kiss me.” She wanted his embrace once more and would not feel guilt or shame. Nearly thirty, a woman grown, she’d know his kiss, if he let her.
“You don’t understand,” he rasped, dropping his br
ow to hers. “There are wagers and questions, and everyone believes I’ll ruin you. And I want to debauch you, more than I’ve ever wanted another.”
Her lips twitched at that rambling entreaty. “I expect you’ve far more charming words than ‘I wish to debauch you’,” she teased.
“Precisely. Normally I would.” Daniel nodded jerkily, knocking her forehead. She winced. “Nor would I ever bump a woman in the head, until you, Daphne. What have you done—?”
She leaned up and kissed him. His entire body turned to stone against her and she braced for him to pull away.
With a groan he covered her mouth with his and there was nothing gentle about the meeting. He scooped her buttocks in his hand, anchoring her close, as their mouths met over and over again. He parted her lips and the taste of him flooded her senses. It tore a keening moan from deep inside where her greatest hungering for this heady passion lived.
Never breaking contact, Daniel guided her down, lowering her upon the dais, and coming over her. He dragged his mouth from hers and her soft cry of protest rang from the rafters. But he only moved his lips lower, finding the soft flesh where her pulse beat hard.
He suckled the flesh and she arched her head back, opening herself to his ministrations. He reached between them and shoved her bodice lower. The cool air slapped at her exposed skin and her nipples puckered.
At his absolute silence, her eyes fluttered open. He remained motionless, his gaze on her small breasts. She curled her toes as reality intruded. How many women had he taken to his bed? Beauties with abundant curves and, certainly, flesh that wasn’t so freckled. Daphne fluttered her hands up to cover herself from his silent inspection, but Daniel captured her wrists, staying those movements.
To Redeem a Rake (The Heart of a Duke Book 11) Page 18
