by Lily Dalton
To see his horse still traveling away, but Cormack half-turned in his saddle, his gaze fixed piercingly on her.
He did not smile, or tilt his head in acknowledgment. Instead, his nostrils flared and his eyes flashed with obvious temper.
Then…he winked.
Daphne jerked round, sinking against the seat cushion. Her lungs shriveled into currants, and she could not breathe. If only she could disappear.
“Daphne, are you all right?” asked Clarissa. “You didn’t have the sausages this morning, did you? After what happened three days ago, I just don’t trust them, and neither should you.”
The viscountess reached to press a gloved hand over hers. “It’s all that silly talk about being an Incomparable, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have made such a fuss. Please don’t give it another thought.”
“I’m…fine.” But she wasn’t, oh, she wasn’t. She wanted to retch. He was there, somewhere behind her. Perhaps watching, even now.
Ladies’ maids often went riding with their mistresses, but she feared she’d dressed too fashionably to be believed as being in service. Her frilly parasol and a hat from London’s finest milliner certainly gave her away. It was just as her older brother, Vinson, had once teasingly foretold—her weakness for frippery would be her undoing.
Yet the park was enormous and packed full of riders, carriages, and pedestrians. Certainly they wouldn’t cross paths again. She could hardly sit still in the carriage, because she felt so trapped. But if she got out, how would she explain running away?
At the same time…the most exquisite excitement thrummed in her veins. She’d never expected to see him again, and there, like a vision, he’d suddenly been.
Oh, yes. Yes. Yes! Her heart rejoiced.
Oh, no, no, no.
At that moment they passed Lady Castlereagh’s barouche, which had stopped near a small cluster of elms. Her Ladyship’s two bull mastiffs stood on the bench seats and woofed at passersby. The more thickly wooded Kensington Gardens stood in the distance, across the shimmering blue surface of the Serpentine. The lady stood in her carriage and called to them. “There you are, Lady Harwick. And the Miss Bevingtons! Oh, do please stop and visit.”
Daphne glanced around to be certain Cormack wasn’t two feet away, observing her real name being declared for all the world to hear. He wasn’t, but who knew where he was? Though the excitement of seeing him again thrilled her to her core, she had to make sure they did not cross paths again. Perhaps he waited near the gates, knowing they would eventually pass through to depart, and the longer they remained inside, lost in the throng, the sooner he would lose interest and leave.
“Yes, Mother,” she blurted, hoping her expression gave away none of her desperation. “Let’s do stop.”
Her Ladyship directed their driver to pull their conveyance to the side of the path. There, numerous others had parked, and their occupants meandered across the grass, conversing and laughing, an impromptu party. She even spied the Duke of Wellington speaking to Fox. Stepping down, Daphne breathed a sigh of relief.
While her grandfather and parents had never made a practice of snobbishness, as some members of the ton did, she could not deny being a member of a very small and elite group. She’d grown up attending their children’s balls and Christmas parties, and now as a young lady, she’d become a full-fledged member of their ranks. They all knew her name as she knew all of theirs.
She delved into their midst, knowing Cormack, being a tradesman and without a title, wasn’t one of them, and couldn’t breach their circle of exclusivity. Here, she’d be protected from crossing paths with him. After speaking briefly with Lady Castlereagh, she laughed with friends, compared parasols with the Aimsley sisters (who she knew full well only pretended to be friendly so they could get closer to Fox), and smelled Mrs. Danville’s purple hybrid roses, which she wore pinned in a fetching corsage high on her shoulder—
Before seeing him through the trees.
He stood tall and beautiful, like something out of a romantic novel, the reins of his mount clasped in one gloved hand. His eyes pierced her through, like a blade.
*
The most mortifying thing was that the moment Cormack had seen her in that fine carriage, as beautiful and splendorous as a queen, his heart leapt like a smitten boy, even as his rational mind realized her wicked deception.
I am a maid…
No maid wore a bonnet like that, an extravagant creation of flowers and ribbons.
…paying off a debt…
Her parasol alone, trimmed thick with ruched, variegated lace, had certainly cost more than a cow.
…my father borrowed money…
All bloody false untruths. The truth was: she was one of them, a member of the same exclusive society that had for two years protected his sister’s seducer.
And yet she had allowed him to rush off into the night like a heartsick suitor to slay what he now suspected had been an imaginary dragon, and spend a minor fortune in the process. And perhaps even laughed in delight as he had done it.
No, he had not been completely honest with her, having assumed his more recent past as a saltpeter merchant like an old suit, but because he hadn’t wished to frighten her any more than she already had been.
The moment he had seen her, everything had changed. He no longer felt one shred of anything noble.
*
His lips mouthed two words.
Come here.
Though quite impossible, given the distance, Daphne felt certain she heard his voice thunder inside her head, dangerous and commanding, even above the drumroll of her pulse. She glanced away, pretending not to see him. Rejecting him outright. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm herself, trying to ease the dizziness that made the world spin around her.
She looked again, praying he’d gone. But he was still there. His mouth moved once more.
Now.
She thought her legs would collapse. They didn’t, but they shook instead and it took every bit of her self-control not to fall to pieces in front of everyone else. Her breath came in shallow bursts at the back of her throat as she frantically pondered what to do.
Oh, but there was nothing to do but comply! His eyes boldly promised that if she did not do as he commanded, then he would most certainly come to her. She could not have that. He was a stranger, with no connections or formal introductions. No one knew him. Everyone would see and have questions and then the gossip would begin and she couldn’t shame her family like that, especially Clarissa, who had such a bright future.
Cormack had to be placated, and the damage contained. Which meant talking to him. As discreetly as possible she withdrew from her circle of friends and made her way behind the trees, forcing her feet to carry her across grass and a faintly worn footpath until she stood four feet in front of him, which seemed to be a safe distance but wasn’t, because his gaze incinerated her on the spot.
“It seems I’ve been played for a fool.” He looked at her everywhere, his gray eyes raking over her stylish hat and fashion-plate perfect spring dress, with their gleaming ribbons and expensive lace, with such heat she feared they would burn right off her body.
“No,” she answered, gripping her parasol in both hands, wishing she could use it to shield herself from his anger. But she wouldn’t hide from Cormack. “That’s not true.”
“Obviously the other night was just some game to you? A spoiled girl out for a wild adventure on the wrong side of London, perhaps on a dare from one of your equally vapid friends, to pretend to be someone you aren’t?”
“Cormack, please listen—”
“Don’t say my name like that, as if we know one another. Do you know what could have happened?” His gloved hands became fists. “Do you know what that man could have done to you if I hadn’t been there to stop him?”
Wanting nothing but to make the coldness in his eyes disappear, she took two steps closer. “Yes, and I—”
“You, or Kate Fickett?” He
spat the words. “Do you even know anyone by that name, or did Bynum just run with the information I provided to him and play me for a bigger fool?” He blinked, smiling, but the smile wasn’t the same as before. This one was sharp as a knife and frightening. “Or perhaps you were in on it with him. Yes, perhaps that’s it. You got yourself in trouble borrowing money from a dangerous man to buy some bauble in a Bond Street shop that your grandpapa refused you, and had to lure in some gullible fool to cover for it?”
“No,” she gasped, horrified by his accusations. “None of that is true, you must know it is not, but, Cormack, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t believe you.”
His rejection stung, like a slap to the face. “Then don’t believe me. I can’t force you to listen.”
“What is your name?” he growled, his teeth clenched, taking one step toward her. “Your real name?”
Who was this man, saying such cruel things to her? Not the man who had saved her life, and kissed her so sweetly.
“Why ask?” she exclaimed, bristling. “Do you propose now to actually allow me to answer one of your questions?”
“Bloody hell, tell me,” he demanded, storming toward her.
Her mouth opened, and her lips worked, but she…couldn’t…
“Don’t deny me, else I’ll go ask one of them.” He jerked his head in the direction of the carriages.
“Daphne Bevington,” she blurted, forcing herself to remain rooted to the spot.
His face went blank for a moment, and he searched the grass, as if trying to remember something. “The Earl of Wolverton’s granddaughter. The papers this morning declared you the season’s Incomparable, along with your younger sister.”
“So I’ve been told,” she said coldly.
He remained quiet for a long moment. “So it seems I’ve the power to destroy you.”
“You wouldn’t,” she insisted.
“I might.”
“For what reason?” she cried, hating him in this moment, and wishing more than anything she had never met him at all.
“Miss Bevington?” called a male voice, one she recognized. “Is everything all right?”
Cormack said nothing, his eyes staring back at her like smoked glass.
“Don’t,” she whispered. His gaze shifted to a place beyond her shoulder. “Please.”
She turned to find Havering crossing the grass on long athletic legs, accompanied by Lord Rackmorton, who stared at Cormack with burning black eyes. To make matters worse, her cousin, Mr. Kincraig, followed behind, his eyes tellingly bleary and his cravat a painfully jumbled affair.
She threw a pleading glance to Cormack. His gray eyes, shielded by the brim of his hat and unseen by anyone else in that moment, held hers with heart-stopping intensity. In that moment Daphne could only hear the sound of her blood pulsing inside her head, fueled by the understanding that he could shatter her future, and her family’s future, with just a few explosive words.
“All is well,” she answered in a light tone. “I lost my parasol to the wind, and this gentleman was kind enough to capture it for me.”
“Indeed, the wind is frightful today,” Fox answered, pointedly glancing toward the trees, whose leaves were utterly still, because of course, there was no wind. Beneath the brim of his hat, she saw one of his eyebrows arch up.
Rackmorton came to stand beside her. “I believe your sister is looking for you.” He scrutinized Cormack, his expression haughty and dismissive. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I know you. Miss Bevington, could you do me the honor of introducing us?”
“We…barely had time to speak two words to one another. I’m afraid I’ve not been properly introduced, either,” Daphne answered without inflection. “He is…a stranger to me. I’m afraid I don’t even know his name.”
Cormack’s gaze, which remained fixed on hers, went flat.
“Ah,” said Rackmorton, his eyes narrowing on the outsider in their midst, one who stood a head taller than he. “But I do recognize you from somewhere.”
“Oh?” answered Cormack, his tone cool.
He did not appear the least bit intimidated. Indeed, he mirrored Rackmorton’s arrogant stance, and matched the sharpness of his gaze unblinkingly.
Rackmorton crossed his arms over his chest, and planted the heels of his glossy leather shoes far apart. “From Tattersalls. Two days ago, you purchased that beautiful animal right out from under me.”
Cormack tilted his head, a wicked glint in his eye. “Did I? I hope there are no hard feelings.”
“Well, of course there are.” Rackmorton laughed, but there was still a distinct undercurrent of tension in his voice and manner.
Fox smiled, peering between the two of them as if amused. “A handsome animal.”
“Indeed,” agreed Kincraig blandly, looking bored to death.
“I take my stable very seriously, but so must you,” said Rackmorton, his gaze settling on the gelding with unabashed longing. “May I…have another look at him?”
“Certainly.”
And just like that, the men converged, thick as thieves in their fine top hats and great coats, to stand in the shadow of Cormack’s magnificent bay. Forgotten, Daphne backed away, the sound of their introductions filling her ears.
“—Rackmorton, of Cornwall. Did we go to school together?”
“I’m certain we did not,” said Cormack.
Of course not. Because he wasn’t one of them, as they’d soon discover. While he might be wealthy, and the perfect man with whom to discuss horse pedigrees, as a merchant tradesman rather than a titled gentleman he wasn’t someone they’d invite into their libraries for port and cigars. That was rather a closed club. She sighed miserably, her heart bruised and her romantic feelings for Cormack destroyed. He’d reacted so unfairly, and with such disdain.
But that wasn’t completely true. She’d glimpsed something in his eyes, hidden behind that frightful hardness, that confessed her deception had hurt him.
“…and this deuced ugly fellow is Havering…”
“And I am Mr. Kincraig, Miss Bevington’s cousin, the young lady whose parasol you so gallantly rescued from this afternoon’s terrifying windstorm.”
Mr. Kincraig! Her throat closed on a furious scream. At least Fox hadn’t called her out for her untruth.
Just then, two dark streaks dashed past her, Lady Castlereagh’s mastiffs, trailing their leashes.
“Oh!” she cried, filled with a sudden terror that the bay would startle and rear up—
But a sharp command from Cormack slowed them in their tracks, until they crouched low to the grass and approached him, their canine mouths grinning wide, for a pat on the head. Daphne exhaled shakily, relieved. Taking up their leashes he walked the dogs toward her, and held out the leads.
Her heart jumped at his nearness. She examined his face, searching for some sign that the ice inside him had melted, but his gaze remained cold.
“Would you mind, Miss Bevington?” he said with an edge of dismissiveness. “You were leaving anyway, were you not?”
She glared back at him and snatched the two leashes, having been effectively dismissed. But she didn’t want to leave. She didn’t trust him alone with them. His shoulders blocked the gentlemen’s view of her.
Beneath her breath she demanded of him, “What are you going to do? What are you going to say?”
“Don’t expect me to settle your mind or your conscience,” he murmured. “I’m not inclined to do either just yet.”
Had those same lips once kissed her? She could hardly believe it, when now, they only spilled the vilest of words.
He turned on his heel. “Gentlemen, I believe our introductions were interrupted before they were finished.”
Daphne turned from them and allowed the dogs to tug her away by their leashes. Cormack had the power to destroy her. But would he do so? She wanted to believe she knew him, and that even after the ugly exchange that had just occurred between them, she could trust that he would not. Perhaps
, even if he chose to expose her secret, they wouldn’t believe him anyway, and it would go no further.
He was, after all, a saltpeter tradesman.
And if he dared claim to have seen Daphne Bevington running wild on the seedy side of town?
She exhaled a sigh of cautious release. Even she had to say such a claim would sound far-fetched, and something that clearly fit an instance of mistaken identity. He wasn’t a member of the ton, and as such, his allegation would be met with immediate suspicion.
“I am Lord Raikes,” she heard Cormack say. “How pleased I am to make all of your acquaintances.”
*
Hours later, when the house was dark and quiet, Daphne sat beside Kate in her grandfather’s study, a lantern set on the table between them.
“He told me he was a saltpeter merchant, but you can see the truth right there in black and white.”
Kate lowered the latest copy of Debrett’s Peerage to her lap. “He is an earl! What a charade the two of you have put on for one another. It is like something out of one of those romantic novels.”
“Only it isn’t romantic,” Daphne said morosely. “Or funny. Really, Kate, how can you smile at a time like this?”
Kate patted her arm. “I wasn’t smiling because I thought it was funny, but because I wanted make you feel better.”
“I know you were, and I’m sorry for being snappish.” Daphne sighed. “It’s just that after everything that happened, I took great comfort in believing our paths would never cross again.”
“You are certain he’s the only other person that knows about the Blue Swan?”
“I think so.” Daphne pressed her hands to her eyes. “If only it was just my reputation in peril! But my family’s good name and Clarissa’s future hang in the balance.”
“You always worry about everyone but yourself. I think…I think you are still trying to—”
“Don’t say it.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
