“Your room’s next door?” Edward asked, lips quirking in a smirking smile when Daphne froze.
“Yes, my lord,” she whispered, still unable to look up into his face.
Edward’s heart softened a fraction. She looked so uncertain, so nervous… he felt an uncomfortable prickle of guilt. They had been married for six years, and yet in one of the most important senses they were still strangers. Perhaps he should have made her his before leaving…?
That doubt had plagued Edward over the years of their separation. He didn’t trust himself to have been man enough to use her well though, he was afraid of himself, afraid that he would have hurt her, made her hate him. The latter he had probably achieved anyway. There was another reason though. If he had taken her into his bed Edward wasn’t sure that he would still have managed to leave. He had wanted her. Though he denied responsibility for everything that followed, Edward was willing to admit that he had not pushed Daphne out of his arms at the moment of their fateful kiss. He would not have been able to push her out of his bed. He would have bound himself to her then. He chose to leave while he still had the ability to walk away.
“I’ll leave you now then?” Daphne’s voice drew Edward back to the present.
He thought about telling her to stay. His thoughts from a moment before lingered and he felt an undeniable urge to act — to show her, at last, what it meant to really have a husband, but something stopped him. He hoped, but rather doubted, that it was mere practicality and not the damnable sentimentality that he felt stirring despite his long-simmering rage.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast, Lady Coventry,” he said and nodded curtly. Daphne gazed up into his eyes and Edward found himself fighting the unsettling desire to pepper a kiss against her upturned lips. “Goodnight Daphne,” he muttered instead.
“Good-goodnight, my lord,” she said quietly, before slipping out of his room and back into the corridor.
Chapter 5
Daphne slumped back against the door as she shut it behind herself. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she feared for her ribcage. She’d thought… well, she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d thought. Had she really expected Edward to pounce on her the second that he had her alone in his room?
Daphne was uncomfortably aware that maybe she had, and maybe, just maybe she was a little disappointed that he hadn’t.
She knew all about the act of marriage. Her mother had given her the usual talk before her wedding, and since then, Daphne had picked up a rather more detailed knowledge of the whole business. Just because her husband had abandoned her, it didn’t stop other wives from talking around her. Everyone seemed to assume that her marriage had been consummated, so when the ladies whispered and giggled about Lord Fairfax’s ‘amazing stamina’ and Sir John’s ‘little problem,’ Daphne smiled and laughed and listened, and tried not to reveal her true ignorance.
She had finally thought Edward was going to help enlighten her on the subject, but no, he’d sent her away. He preferred to be left alone. He would be coming to her room though; he’d said that he wanted an heir, and there was only one way that that was ever going to happen. Daphne bit her lip anxiously and decided to retire to bed herself.
All the way through her evening toilette Daphne’s eyes kept darting towards the door that separated her room from her husband’s. She was sure her maid noticed. The lock was, of course, on his side, and despite his calm “I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast” Daphne couldn’t quite believe that Edward might not come bursting into her room and demand his rights as her husband.
That, she told herself, was why she was still awake staring at the hangings of her four-poster bed at three o’clock the next morning.
She just couldn’t believe that Edward was really back… she expected to find that it was all just a dream. She had dreamt of his return enough times in the past not to discount the idea as nonsense. In the days after he disappeared, it had been all that Daphne had thought about.
At first she had simply been worried. Terrified that something had happened to him. That he might have been injured, or worse. Still flush from the triumph of her wedding, it did not occur to Daphne that Edward wanted to run away. But then her brother had slowly uncovered the truth. Disbelief turned into despair. Daphne honestly didn’t remember the month or so after her wedding. It had been like living through a nightmare. All of her dreams lay in ruins. She had lost the man she loved. She had lost her respectability, her dignity. She even lost her family. They virtually disowned her.
Daphne felt the hot trickle of tears coat her cheeks and realized that she was crying again. She hadn’t cried about it all in months, but now it was raw again, fresh, and the pain seemed new.
She must have cried herself to sleep after a time, because she was woken at her usual hour by her maid drawing open the curtains in her bedroom.
A single glance in the mirror told Daphne what she had already feared - her skin was pale, her hair was dull, and her eyes were puffy and red. Her maid helped her disguise the strain of the night before as best she could, but Daphne was woefully aware that she was not looking her best. Perhaps Edward wouldn’t be at breakfast after all though? Perhaps she could avoid him until her appearance was once again impeccable?
It depressed her terribly to think of Edward seeing her looking anything short of perfect. It was a weakness that she could ill afford. She couldn’t let him know that it all still upset her. She had to prove to him that she’d grown up, matured, that she was no longer a little girl that could be swept aside.
Daphne couldn’t contain a sigh of relief when she entered the breakfast room and found it empty. She took her usual seat at the table and began to relax a little bit as she helped herself to a crumpet.
“Should I fetch Lord Coventry now, my lady?” Daphne choked a little at the question from Wilkins. The query on her face must have been more than apparent, because the butler continued: “The Earl is in the library. He asked to be informed when you came down to breakfast, my lady.”
Daphne gave a stilted nod. “Then I suppose you had better tell him, Wilkins, thank you,” she said quietly. It was evidence of his loyalty to his mistress that he’d even asked, and Daphne was grateful for it; at least it gave her a few seconds in which to prepare for Edward’s arrival.
Not that there was very much that she could do, Daphne realized. She fiddled with her cutlery, dabbed her fingers with a napkin, and waited. She didn’t want to be looking at the door when Edward walked in, but she couldn’t seem to drag her eyes away.
However, at the sound of footsteps approaching she quickly turned and looked out of the window, not turning around again until she heard Edward gently clear his throat. She twisted in her seat and raised her eyes to the door. Her breath hitched at the sight that met her eyes.
Edward evidently hadn’t had trouble sleeping, given that he looked like the embodiment of male perfection standing there in the doorway of her breakfast room. He’d lost his slightly travel worn appearance of the previous night. His clothes were impeccable, crisp and perfectly fitted… although she wasn’t sure when men’s breeches had got quite so tight. Daphne was certain that she could see the outline of the powerful muscles of Edward’s thighs beneath the fabric… she realized she was staring, and realized exactly where she was staring, flushed crimson and wrenched her gaze away.
“Daphne?” Edward’s voice was thick and husky with concern. “Are you quite well? You look ill.”
She cringed, as if her morning could possibly have started any worse. “I’m fine,” she muttered. “Did you sleep well?” she asked, forcing a cheerful note into her voice.
Edward sat down in the seat opposite his wife, and murmured a polite reply, but his eyes stayed fixed on Daphne’s face. He looked almost guilty. And he also looked as though he was itching to say something more, but didn’t quite know how to begin. Daphne couldn’t believe that she would want to hear anything that he might say, so she quickly searched for a neutral topic.
“Have you any plans for today, Lord Coventry?” Daphne asked, in a bland, demure little voice.
Edward helped himself to some breakfast as he looked at her thoughtfully. “I have some business with my banker, and I wanted to look over the house accounts,” he said carefully. “Who has been taking care of such matters in my absence?”
A little frown perched itself on Daphne’s brow. “Your brother, originally,” she confessed. She and William had clashed a little over the subject.
Daphne had wanted to be involved, included in the financial running of the household to a greater extent than having a monthly allowance handed over to her, but her brother-in-law had forbidden it. She was certain that William had never trusted her. The late Earl of Coventry had been too much of a gentleman to ever explicitly say anything, but Daphne had understood his opinions clearly. He wasn’t about to entrust a large portion of the Everton fortune into the hands of the woman who had tricked his brother down the aisle.
“And now?” Edward pressed.
“Anthony helps when he can, that’s why he’s coming up this weekend,” she explained. “But it’s difficult for him, with his own estate to manage now, he-he’s been trying to teach me, so that I’m not so dependent on him for advice,” Daphne added hesitantly, watching for Edward’s reaction.
She wasn’t surprised when her husband frowned. Women, after all, were not meant to trouble themselves with accountancy. But she was a little surprised by what Edward next said.
“Well, I’m here to help you and teach you anything you need to know now,” he muttered gruffly. He cleared his throat, and then drained his teacup in one gulp. “I also mean to call on my mother today,” he added, as if by way of changing the direction of the conversation. Daphne couldn’t help it. Her knife clattered against her plate conspicuously. Her husband shot her a surprised glance. “Daphne?” he frowned. “Are you sure that you’re quite well?”
“Fine,” she assured him instantly, but she could hear the strain in her voice. “I’m fine,” she squeaked. But she clearly wasn’t. She could still remember her last meeting with her mother-in-law. It had been at William’s funeral. Lady Margaret had been distraught by her eldest son’s tragic death, and she was very angry. Daphne had been forced to bear the brunt of her mother-in-law’s anger.
Daphne had been accused of the most terrible things: of being a gold digger (although that charge was nothing new), of driving Lady Margaret’s other son away, and of being happy that William was dead because it meant that she was now a countess.
“My Lord, I think I will-” Daphne began in a panic; she was afraid she might start crying at the table if she didn’t get away. She’d jumped to her feet, but in her agitated state hadn’t realized that Edward had also risen and walked around to her side of the table. He was standing over her, so close that her skin prickled at his nearness.
“Please?” he said softly. He reached for her hand and suddenly Daphne found that it was hard to even breathe. “Won’t you tell me what’s the matter?”
“I-” Daphne stammered shakily. Edward’s fingers were strong curled around her hand, his skin warm to the touch. “I can’t,” she choked, jerking away from him, before hurrying out of the room without so much as a backwards glance.
Edward watched his wife flee. There was a strange, almost painful, knot in the centre of his stomach. Guilt. He had heard Daphne crying in the night. He had seen the evidence of her tears on her tired face that morning. And now… well, he wasn’t entirely sure of his new offence, but he’d clearly upset her again somehow.
He raked a hand through his hair, and wondered if he should follow Daphne. The trouble was, he didn’t know what he could possibly say to her when he found her. It was all such a mess! All so confusing! Cursing under his breath, Edward left the breakfast room.
“Wilkins, is it?” he barked at the butler.
“Yes, my lord,” the older man dipped his head in a miniscule bow.
“Have a carriage made ready for me. I’m going out.”
Chapter 6
Edward found himself standing inside the front hall of his mother’s Mayfair town house within the hour. The butler (a rather more polite young gentleman than the man Daphne had seen fit to hire) had just left to announce him, and so Edward was gazing around the familiar surroundings, taking note of what had changed, and what had stayed the same.
“Edward?” gasped a voice. He immediately turned away from the barometer that he’d been inspecting. “Edward? Is it really you?”
“Hello, mother,” Edward said quietly. No one could make him feel like such an errant schoolboy as his mother. She was nearing her sixtieth year now, but the beauty of her youth still sparkled in her eyes.
“I knew you would come back,” Lady Margaret said shakily. She was crossing the hall towards her son, but Edward reached her in a few strides. “Oh, Edward! What have you put your poor mother through?” she scolded, but she was smiling lovingly through her tears. “Come through to the sitting room and let me look at you,” she said, catching hold of her son’s hands as if she was terrified that he might try to bolt for the door.
“I’m sorry, mother,” Edward said gruffly. In six years, had he ever stopped to think about anyone apart from himself?
“I didn’t blame you, Edward. I never blamed you,” his mother was saying hurriedly. “William and I both knew who was at fault,” she sniffed, a flash of ice freezing her words.
“At fault?” Edward echoed uncertainly.
“Everyone knows that it was that young chit’s fault,” Lady Margaret fumed. Her eyes flashed dangerously. Edward sat down on an overstuffed chair and squirmed uncomfortably.
“Daphne’s fault?” he murmured needlessly. His mother flushed a nasty shade of red at the mention of her daughter-in-law’s name. “But surely her family-” he began, unable to quite account for the sense of unease that was slowly creeping up upon him.
“Her family practically disowned her six years ago,” Lady Margaret announced triumphantly. “I don’t believe that she’s seen her mother more than half a dozen times since you were-” she paused, grimacing, “-married. I know for a fact that her father disinherited her before he died.”
“Mr Hargreaves is dead?” Edward blurted, his mouth hanging agape.
Daphne hadn’t said! But… wait, she had said something about her brother having an estate to manage now. Edward had been staring too intently at the shadows under her bright eyes at the time, however, and hadn’t pieced together the significance of what she was saying.
“Oh yes,” Lady Margaret nodded as she rang a bell for tea and refreshments. “It must be three or four years since he passed away.” Edward nodded dumbly. “One shouldn’t talk of such things, I know, and had it been any serious blow to your income I should have been the first to complain of course, Edward, but one can’t help feeling that she deserved it.”
“Deserved it?” Edward repeated. He was beginning to feel like something of a parrot. “Daphne deserved-?”
“To lose her inheritance for the little stunt she played on you!” Lady Margaret snapped sharply. “Ruined your life did that chit!”
Edward closed his eyes for a moment and dragged a hand over his face. Did that mean that William had informed their mother of his version of events for that fateful morning when Daphne had found her way into his room? Perhaps he should never have told William. Perhaps he should have been a better man, all for protecting a lady’s honor. But he’d been young and angry, and forced to watch as his freedom was snatched away from him.
“We can’t change the past, mother,” he said quietly. “What’s done is done, and Daphne and I will just have to find a way to live with the situation.”
“Oh?” Lady Margaret raised an eyebrow. “You mean to live with her then?”
Edward gave his broad shoulders a weary shrug, which earned him a look of reproach from his mother. “I have different responsibilities now that I’m-now that William’s gone,” he said quietly, turning
his head to look out of the window.
His brother’s death seemed so much more real here in England, where he expected to bump into him at a club, or find him riding his favorite stallion through the grounds at Packwood. It was beginning to hit home that he would never see his face again, never hear his voice, his laughter.
“I’m sorry I missed his funeral,” Edward said heavily. He felt like he’d missed a critical goodbye. He’d visited William’s grave while he’d been staying in Coventry, but it wasn’t the same.
“He’d understand,” Lady Margaret said, gently dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “It’s so good to have you home, Edward,” she sniffed, smiling tearfully at her son. “You can’t know how badly you’ve been missed.”
By the time that Edward left his mother’s house he had a sense of, if not how badly he had been missed, then at least of the things that he had missed. He was told of the various marriages and births that had taken place in his absence, given a flavour of the scandals that had rocked London, and generally been brought up to date on the gossip of the city.
But all the time that he had sat listening to his mother’s chatter, Edward hadn’t been able to stop his thoughts from turning to Daphne. When he had left, he hadn’t really thought about what would happen to her in his absence. He had simply assumed that her family would look after her. Her brother had certainly shown a flare for involving himself in his sister’s affairs, after all!
Edward supposed-if he really looked back and thought on it-that he had known that things for Daphne in society would not be easy at least. But then, he hadn’t expected her to move to London! Whenever he’d thought of Daphne it was as being tucked away safely in the country somewhere. Despite his fury at her machinations, he didn’t like to think that she’d suffered exactly.
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