Dangerous in Diamonds (30 page)
Pity. Pity and sorrow and maybe some anger. That was what she saw, for an instant, before he took her hand and guided her inside the coach.
A
long carriage ride gives a man a lot of time to search his soul. Since Castleford did not fancy perusing deserts, he much preferred traveling on horseback.
long carriage ride gives a man a lot of time to search his soul. Since Castleford did not fancy perusing deserts, he much preferred traveling on horseback.
He draped his arm around Daphne and held her while the coach rolled through the twilight. Her head rested on his shoulder, and she did not speak much. Normally the lack of small talk would be a relief. This evening it left him thinking about matters he would prefer to avoid.
Resenting the inclination even as he succumbed to it, he lined up the truths he knew for certain.
At least one of the properties Becksbridge had left him did not house an old mistress of the dead duke. A woman who had been raped by Latham lived there. There could be no denying it had been rape either, since he himself had stumbled upon the scene and pulled Latham off the girl. The brutality he had seen and Latham’s sneering indifference about it later had marked the end of their long friendship.
Somehow Becksbridge had learned of that crime and bought the girl off with that home.
Since Mrs. Rolland—he doubted there had ever been a Mr. Rolland—had not been a mistress, it stood to reason that perhaps none of the four properties were used by old mistresses.
Without thinking about it, more on instinct, he pressed his lips to Daphne’s crown and kissed her silken fair hair. He closed his eyes and tried to contain the anger swelling in him. It wanted to become a murderous rage. He hoped he was wrong about her, but he did not think he was.
He had assumed the scoundrel preyed on servants, like too many men of his station. But of course it had been helplessness that provoked the worst in Latham, not rank or blood or family background.
If you ever have the chance, kill him, Tristan
.
.
The coach noticeably slowed. Daphne startled, as if that woke her from a sleep. She straightened and found her reticule. She did not look at him while the inn’s servants opened the door and handed her out.
The inn’s yard seemed oddly empty, considering night was falling. Those who felt the need to escape the day’s great events had already done so, and it appeared few people felt the need to travel this evening and would wait for another, better day.
The air smelled of autumn’s approach. Not an unpleasant scent, it carried a peculiar freshness, considering it spoke of decay.
Daphne waited for him, to enter the inn. She appeared totally composed but perhaps showed a bit of awkwardness. She expected him to drag her upstairs immediately and finally have her, of course. It might be a mercy to do so. She might even be counting on that, since it would delay the conversation that had been waiting since he walked into Margaret’s home.
“After hours in that cottage and carriage, the air is refreshing,” he said. “Let us take a turn around the property. The coachman will procure us chambers and have your baggage taken up.”
She raised her eyebrows but fell into step with him. “I did not realize you so enjoyed fresh air. I thought you could go days without leaving your house.”
“Only when I was keeping very busy with whores, would I go for days without leaving.” He smiled ruefully. “It was very bad of our mutual friends to tell you about that, if they did.”
“Perhaps my sisters were warning me, for the day you and I finally met.”
“Quite likely they were. Oh, speaking of whores . . .” He reached into his coat and withdrew four thin letters. He handed them to her. “As promised. You must never tell anyone I went to such lengths for you. It would destroy all that I have worked so hard to build.”
She looked down at the letters and laughed quietly, shaking her head. “I am remembering something Verity said, about woe unto the person who captures your curiosity. I fear all the woe has been yours this time.”
More woe had been his than he needed, that was certain.
She slid the letters into her reticule. They entered a little field beside the inn, where wildflowers grew in abundance. A few sheep grazed on a hill a few hundred yards away.
“You were never old Becksbridge’s mistress, were you?”
She did not miss a step. Her composure did not crack. Yet he sensed a tension enter her, then leave like a deep sigh. “I never said I was.”
“You never said you were not. You knew what I assumed.”
She bit her lower lip. “I felt no need to explain. I am entitled to reveal what I choose about my history.” She looked him in the eyes, boldly. “Some women have good reasons to leave the past behind.”
Her expression and words warned him off. She did not want to talk of it. He did, however. This conversation had become important for reasons he could not explain even to himself. Important and necessary.
He took her hand and led her to a log set out like a bench along their path. He sat her down. She kept her gaze on the wildflowers and the sunset. On anyplace but his face.
“I recognized Margaret,” he said. “She was not his mistress either. She was a servant who was badly misused by Latham. I know, because I saw him do it.”
Her gaze snapped to him. Her color rose. Her poise relaxed a little, as if holding her shield had become too much a burden.
“I only learned about her for certain myself when I went there this time.” She spoke quietly. “I had wondered, though. Not at first, but over the years. Then, when you said there were four small properties—well, I thought we might have something in common, but not what you assumed. So I came and asked Margaret for the truth. She said that one of his friends came and stopped it. I wondered if perhaps it had been you—”
He had guessed, but he did not like hearing it. He crossed his arms, turned away, and glared at the horizon. “I am going to kill him.”
She reached up to touch his arm and claim his attention. “It is not what you think. Not quite like that with me. I need you to know that.”
“How was it
not like that
with you?” It appalled him that the thought she might have been willing made him more furious than if she had been forced. There it was, however, disgusting though he found it, even as black rage filled him.
not like that
with you?” It appalled him that the thought she might have been willing made him more furious than if she had been forced. There it was, however, disgusting though he found it, even as black rage filled him.
“He gave me the courtesy of a flirtation first. A few stolen kisses. Allusions to marriage. My father was a gentleman, and it was not unthinkable to me. We had a clandestine meeting that went too far, he said. Farther than he intended, he said.”
“Was that what it was, Daphne? A romantic tryst that went too far?”
Stop yelling at her, you ass. Stop acting as though you have a right to be jealous just because it was the wrong damned Becksbridge
.
Stop yelling at her, you ass. Stop acting as though you have a right to be jealous just because it was the wrong damned Becksbridge
.
She flushed deeply, and her eyes misted. “I blamed myself for years, Castleford, and I’ll not stand for your doing so now. Becksbridge blamed me too. That insufferable man
lectured me
. I had lured his son. My character was at fault.” Her eyes glinted with furious tears. “But I had tried to stop him, you see. I had begged him to stop, but he did not. Many think a woman deserves such a thing merely for allowing a man to kiss her. I discarded such ideas long ago myself, but I know it is a common belief.”
lectured me
. I had lured his son. My character was at fault.” Her eyes glinted with furious tears. “But I had tried to stop him, you see. I had begged him to stop, but he did not. Many think a woman deserves such a thing merely for allowing a man to kiss her. I discarded such ideas long ago myself, but I know it is a common belief.”
Still angry, still wishing Latham were within reach, right here and now, he sat beside her. They remained there, both of them in high emotion. He looked at her exquisite profile while she fought to remain collected enough not to weep at what he had just forced her to reveal.
He imagined her being told by the old duke that her abuse had been her own fault. She was correct that it was a common excuse used by men.
“It is not my belief that women invite such misuse, if you are wondering, Daphne.”
She managed a small smile. Her eyes seemed to only mist more, however. She wiped them with her hand, then gave him a little, playful poke on his side. “If it were your belief, you would have had me weeks ago and forgotten my name by now.”
He forgot many names, but he would never forget hers. He already knew that. He caught that taunting hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “How did Becksbridge learn of it?”
“I told him.”
“Did you? Good girl. The ass probably could not believe a governess would be so bold.”
“I thought he should know what his son had done. I had no idea it had happened before. He subjected me to that scathing, insulting lecture. Yet, remembering it later, I realized there had been little real vehemence in his tone. Only in his words. I wondered if perhaps he had given that lecture before, and had lost the heart for it in truth.”
He raised her hand and kissed it. “Did you blackmail him for support after you told him?”
“Not at all. He said he must release me, but he would send me to a woman in the north, where I could live. I was to stay there. If I did, he would provide an allowance. He did not want me nearby to corrupt his son again, sinful Jezebel that I was. He did not want me returning to our home county or to London to spread rumors.” She sighed a little, then shrugged. “The blackmail came later.”
He had to laugh. “Why do I think that was a scene to behold?”
“Well, I was older, wasn’t I? And much wiser. I had been thinking about what Latham had done, and right before I left, there had been that scullery maid. After two years of stewing about it all, I had come to a boil.”
“Becksbridge must have been shocked to see how Miss Avonleah had turned into the formidable Mrs. Joyes.”
“He did not say much. I told him that I did not think I should continue intruding on Margaret forever, and that I was going to return to my home county. That was when he offered the use of the land in Middlesex. If I lived there quietly and had no contact with his son and did not speak lies about what had happened, with time he might see his way clear to give me the land outright.”
“No allowance this time?”
“At first, yes. I refused it after I started The Rarest Blooms. It was a type of blood money to me.” She looked down at their bound hands. “So there you have it.”
Her soft smile trembled. With the telling done, her courage seemed to abandon her. Her eyes watered again, and her expression turned very soft and young and almost helpless.
“I have never told anyone all of this before. It was easier than I ever imagined it to be.”
She appeared so vulnerable, for all her pride. And so lovely in the silver early twilight that she mesmerized him.
There were holes in this story, and questions still remained. He cursed the way his mind found them at once. He forced his curiosity to the back of his mind. No doubt the answers were insignificant. Probably she had just skipped some things so the tale did not become overlong.
“I am honored that you have told me, Daphne.” He stood and raised her by her hand. “I have long regretted not letting the world know what I saw that day with Margaret. Knowing now that it left him to prey on you and others—I will never forgive myself.”
She stepped closer and looked into his eyes. “How clever he is, to arrange it so good people blame themselves for his sins. You had no way to know he made a habit of such depravity.”
“I did not know for certain, but I knew the truth of him better than most.”
It had been, without a doubt, the most cowardly decision of his life. He had known that for a long while now. But exposing Latham would have resulted in a duel. It could be resolved no other way.
For all of his disgust back then, he had not wanted to kill the man who had been his closest friend—the man who, but for what many would consider nuances, was so much like himself.
He should have done it, though. Then, or found a way after that tragedy with Marie.
“I will not have you blaming anyone but him,” Daphne said. “Please do not make me regret confiding in you.”
He pretended to accept her absolution. He kissed her lips, then her cheek where the remnants of a few salty tears had dried. He took her hand and they strolled to the inn.
Their chambers were ready. The owner hurried to assure His Grace that hot water waited too. Castleford walked with Daphne to the stairs.
“I think that seducing you tonight would be inappropriate somehow,” he said.
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