Guilty Series (5 page)

T
he human heart must be a strong and resilient thing, Daphne decided when she awoke the following morning. She was surprised to find that she was no longer in the throes of wrenching heartbreak and pain. Instead, in a strange way, she felt as if she had been reborn.

She had spent the entire evening and most of the night crying into her pillow and nursing her broken heart. She had shed countless tears for the pain of Anthony's insulting words. She had told herself, more with defiance than sincerity, that this Lady Sarah he intended to marry was welcome to him. She had called herself all kinds of a fool for her unrealistic illusions. Most of all, she had grieved for the painful destruction of the hope in her heart,
hope for Anthony's affections, hope that she had not even acknowledged to herself until his opinion of her had shattered it.

Now, though a vestige of pain still lingered, Daphne did not feel sad or foolish. She felt free.

As she dressed, she tried to understand herself, and she realized that it was as if a great weight had been lifted from her. She had spent the last five months trying to be what Anthony wanted, trying to anticipate and fill every need or desire he expressed to her, working like a slave to please him, and all it had gotten her was his indifferent scorn.

Daphne sat down at the dressing table in her room and stared idly at her reflection as she brushed out her hair. A rueful smile tipped her mouth. Anthony had called her pathetic, and she looked rather a sorry mess just now with her face all puffy from crying, but the only pathetic thing in this scenario was how much of herself she had wasted on him.

Anthony's words had been harsh, but they had made her understand something about herself, something that she had never seen before.

Since her mother's death, she had spent her life needing to be needed, trying to fill the void in her father's heart with the love her mother's death had taken from him, trying to be his partner in his work, trying to be the antidote to his grief. Here, she had tried to do the same with Anthony, desperately wanting him to need her, wanting him to make her feel valued, appreciated, loved.

As noticeable as a stick insect on a twig.

Now, in the light of a new day, she vowed that
things would be different. She remembered Viola's questions in the antika yesterday, and she realized they led to a much more fundamental one.

What now?

Daphne turned in her chair and surveyed the room around her, a room that was ornate to the point of opulence. The gold and green damask draperies around her bed, the paneled walls and fireplace mantel of carved rosewood, the elaborate moldings of angels on the ceiling, the malachite-topped dressing table where she sat, and the painted urns of peacock feathers. Like all the other rooms at Tremore Hall, it was large and overpowering, conveying immense wealth and a true sense of history, but it was a house with little warmth.
Rather like its owner
, she thought. He thought to marry without any sort of love or affection. How cold he must be, and how blind she had been never to have seen that aspect of his character before.

Daphne returned her attention to her reflection in the mirror, met her own gaze, and made her first decision about her future. She had to leave Tremore Hall. She could not stay here. To be near that wretched man, to continue to work for him like a slave for the next five years, knowing the disdain with which he regarded her, was an intolerable prospect.

But where else could she go? What could she do? She had done excavation work all her life. For the first time, she began to wonder if there were other possibilities for her future.

I should love it if you could come with me to Enderby.

Daphne remembered the viscountess's words of yesterday in the antika. She also went over what she had overheard of Viola's plans for her, and she felt a spark of excitement. The viscountess had admitted being lonely. She envisioned Daphne as a sort of protégée, and wanted to find her a husband. Perhaps she would agree to allow Daphne to stay with her for a time, introduce her to people, help her form some connections. Who knew what might happen? With the viscountess to guide her, she could gain a great deal of experience with the ways of good society, ways she had only read about in books.

Perhaps this opportunity would enable her to become a governess to a wealthy family. Or perhaps she should swallow her pride and make another attempt to unite with her grandfather. She might even fulfill Viola's matchmaking hopes and find someone to marry, someone who truly loved her and wanted her.

Daphne decided it was time to stop believing she had no choices for her future. It was time to begin deciding her own destiny. Perhaps it was even time to have a bit of fun.

She would leave here and enter the glittering world of English society. As for Anthony, he could go hang, and his opinions with him.

 

“I beg your pardon?” Viola set down her quill and stared at Daphne in complete astonishment.

Daphne knew she was being quite bold, but she was desperate. “Yesterday you mentioned how you wished I could go with you to Enderby when you leave here. Given our short acquaintance, I know it is presumptuous of me to ask, but did you mean it?”

Viola recovered herself and gestured to the chair opposite the writing desk in her room. “Do sit down, Daphne.”

Daphne took the offered chair, crossed her fingers in her lap, and waited for an answer.

“Of course I meant it,” Viola said, “but what about your position here?”

“I intend to resign my post.”

“I thought you loved it at Tremore Hall.” Viola stiffened in her chair and gave Daphne a sharp look. “Has something untoward happened since yesterday?”

“No, not at all,” she hastened to assure the other woman, hoping she sounded convincing. She could not bear it if Viola or Anthony learned she had overheard their conversation and the duke's low opinion of her. “I have enjoyed it here, but your words of yesterday about London have made me realize all that I have missed.”

Viola leaned back against the mahogany chair in which she was seated. “My dear Daphne, I am all astonishment. I had no idea my words would provoke such a reaction.”

There was a hint of dismay in the other woman's voice, and Daphne's heart sank. Perhaps the viscountess's words about friendship had been lightly spoken. Perhaps she had been talking about her
with Anthony for obscure reasons of her own. Nonetheless, Daphne knew she had to leave Tremore Hall, and Viola was her best chance of doing so. “Since my father's death, my life has been following an inevitable path over which I have had little control.”

“Because you are a woman,” the viscountess said, an almost acerbic note in her voice. “We have little control over our lives.”

“Perhaps, but I have been turning our conversation over and over in my mind, and I cannot help but feel that it is time I found my mother's family and took my rightful place in society.”

“Of course! I said as much yesterday, but you were adamant about staying here. Are you certain you wish to do this?”

“Yes. I have never had the chance to enjoy good society or make friends, for Papa and I were always moving. Here, I am buried in the country working alone all the day long and never meeting anyone.”

“Of course you must be very lonely here, and earning a living is beneath a baron's granddaughter. I confess I had been thinking how delightful it would be to reunite you with your family and help you to come out into society. But I had thought your feelings—” She broke off, not voicing whatever she had been about to say. Instead, she looked down, fingering the quill pen on her desk, lost in thought. Daphne waited, silent, hoping the viscountess's seeming reluctance did not mean she would refuse.

After a moment, Viola looked up. “Have you discussed this with the duke?”

“No. I felt I should speak with you first.”

She nodded. “I told you I would be delighted to have you at Enderby, and I would not have said it if I did not mean it. However, Anthony will not like it. What will he do without you?”

Daphne bit back the tart reply that Anthony would not waste one moment grieving her departure. “He will be able to find someone else for the post.”

“But not someone as excellent as you. Why, only the other night he was telling Sir Edward and me how skilled you are at your work. He admires your knowledge and intelligence very much.”

And that was all he admired, since she was a stick insect with no feminine appeal. Daphne did not want to think about his opinion ever again. In the light of a new day, remembering his words made her want to bash him over the head with one of his Samarian wine jars.

“This excavation and the museum he intends to endow with the artifacts means a great deal to my brother,” Viola went on. “He intends to retain you until the project is finished, and he will not want you to leave.”

Daphne did not care tuppence for what Anthony wanted. “He will have no choice.”

“Anthony has been a duke since he was twelve years old. He is accustomed by a lifetime of experience to getting his way.”

“He cannot force me to stay.”

“Oh, Daphne, you underestimate the power of a duke. News of your departure will displease him enormously, especially when he learns I am the one taking you away.”

Daphne's heart sank. “I should hate to be the cause of any rift between you and your brother,” she said, trying to hide her dismay. “I understand if you wish to retract your invitation.”

Viola considered the situation for a moment, then she shook her head. “I shall do no such thing! To my mind, it is unconscionable that a young woman who is the daughter of a knight and the granddaughter of a baron should have to earn her living. You deserve your rightful place in society, and Anthony is only being selfish. It will be my pleasure to have you at Enderby.”

Daphne's relief was so great, she nearly sagged in her chair. “Thank you. I am in your debt.”

“Not at all. I shall enjoy your company very much. All I ask is that when you resign your post, you give Anthony a month's notice of your departure. He will need time to find someone to replace you.”

Another month here, knowing Anthony's contempt for her, would be hard to bear, but she had no choice. “Of course.”

Viola picked up her quill and scrawled something on a sheet of paper. “I shall be leaving here shortly and going to Chiswick. I will anticipate your arrival there in about a month. If you change your mind, write to me at this direction.”

Daphne took the sheet the other woman held out to her. “I will not change my mind.”

“Do not be so certain of that. This excavation business is very important to Anthony, and he will not like losing you. I know my brother very well. He can be very persuasive when he chooses. And very determined.”

Daphne did not reply to that. She was leaving, and there was nothing more to say.

 

Anthony sank the spade into the ground with care, working to remove the earth without damaging any treasures that might lay buried in the ancient room beneath his feet.

He was probably the only peer in all of Britain who truly enjoyed physical labor such as this, he thought, as he pressed his boot down onto the spade and lifted another shovelful of damp earth. Most of his acquaintances would be shocked to see him now, covered in dirt with his shirt off, his body damp with sweat.

He dumped the shovelful of dirt into the wood-framed screen box beside him, and as he did so, he caught sight of Miss Wade approaching, weaving her way amid the workmen and the half-uncovered walls of the excavation. He paused and reached for his shirt, pulling it over his head as she came up to him.

“Could I speak with you a moment?” she asked. “It is rather important.”

“Is something amiss with the artifacts?” he asked as he lifted his arm to wipe the perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve.

“No. This is not about the artifacts. This is a personal matter. Could we speak privately?”

Her words surprised him. For one thing, Miss Wade seldom said more than two words together. Second, he could not imagine her having any personal matters, particularly not ones she would wish to discuss with him. His curiosity aroused, he walked with her to the antika. “What is it you wish to discuss?” he asked once they were inside.

“I—” she began, then stopped and closed her mouth, looking straight ahead, staring into the cleft of his unbuttoned shirt as if she were looking right through him. The sunlight through the windows glinted off the lenses of her spectacles, preventing him from looking into her eyes, and the rest of her countenance, as usual, revealed no hint of what she was thinking. He waited.

The silence lengthened. Impatient to return to his work, Anthony cleared his throat, and that got her attention. She took a deep breath, lifted her face, and said the last thing he would have expected.

“I am resigning my post here.”

“What?” Anthony knew he could not have heard her correctly. “What do you mean?”

“I am leaving.” She reached into the pocket of her heavy work apron and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “I have here my letter of resignation.”

He stared at the folded sheet of paper she held out, but he did not take it from her hand. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest, and said the only thing he could think of. “I refuse to accept it.”

A flicker of consternation crossed her face, a hint
of emotion from the machine. He was even more taken aback.

“But you can't refuse,” she said, frowning. “You can't.”

“Unless the king tells me no, I can do anything I want,” he said, hoping he sounded quite smug. “I am a duke, after all.”

That reply only disconcerted her for a moment. “Is your lofty rank supposed to intimidate me, your grace?” she asked in her quiet voice, a surprising hint of anger in it he had never heard before. She slapped the letter against his chest, and when he did not take it, she pulled her hand back and let the paper float to the floor. “I am resigning my position. I will be leaving one month from now.”