Just One Kiss (10 page)

He was in his study- or William’s study?  Edward was having a hard time thinking of the house as his own- nursing a glass of whiskey (to fortify him for the trials of the evening ahead; Edward wasn’t looking forward to his reintroduction into London society) when there was a soft knock on the door.  Edward downed the rest of the glass in one swig, and called for the person to enter. 

Wilkins pushed opened the door.  “I believe that Lady Coventry is ready now, my lord.  Should I
order
the carriage?”

Edward gave a curt nod.  “Thank you, Wilkins.”  He still couldn’t bring himself to like the butler.

Edward picked up his gloves from off the desk, and went in search of Daphne.  He didn’t have to search far; his wife was standing in the front hall waiting for him, but her eyes were on the grandfather clock by the wall, so Edward had a moment to appraise her full figure before Daphne
realize
d that she had an audience.

Edward was actually glad that he was afforded a moment to gather his thoughts, because the sight of Daphne had taken his breath away.  She was a vision, clad in a ball gown of the palest apricot, which fitted her figure to perfection.  When she sensed his presence and turned, Edward felt his body tighten. 

He was wound like a spring as it was, and the low neckline of Daphne’s dress left comparatively little to the imagination.  Imagined images from his dream of the night before flared to vivid life in Edward’s mind- and as beautiful as Daphne looked in that dress, his need to have her out of it was suddenly almost overwhelming.

He was never going to last the night.

“Is something wrong?” Daphne frowned.

Edward managed to wrench his gaze away from her-
up
.  He cleared his throat uncomfortably.  He had to regain control here!  He let his eyes rest on her face for a moment, and then on the fancy Grecian style in which she was wearing her hair. 

“You look amazing, Daphne,” he breathed, because it was true, and because he wanted to make her smile… to Edward’s disappointment, the latter he seemed not to achieve. 

Daphne blushed, far too fetchingly for her husband’s peace of mind, but then she simply took her cloak off a waiting maid and seemed to edge towards the door, and Edward’s frustration was piqued.

“Although,” he said slowly, coolly, watching the way that Daphne tensed.  He
could
still affect her then.  Good.   “In future you will see to it that your gowns are made with a more-” Edward paused to fully emphasize his next words “-
modest
neckline.”

Daphne gasped, which only accentuated the offending (so to speak) aspect of her dress.  “How dare you!” she snapped.  “I’ll have you know that the fashion in London,
which
you know nothing about having been absent from for so many years, dictates that a woman-!”

“Daphne,” Edward said, smoothly interrupting his wife’s little tirade (which the servants were watching open mouthed, Wilkins was probably getting ready to leap to his mistress’s
defense
as they spoke).  “I don’t give a damn what the fashion in London dictates, I’m your husband and-”

“And dictator?” Daphne hissed acerbically.

Edward flashed her his most charming, insincere smile.  “If you like.”

“Lord Coventry I-!”

“
Don’t
start that nonsen
se,” Edward said crisply.  “God,
woman!  You’re my wife, is it a crime to-” but he stopped himself short. 

When had the mere thought of other men looking at his wife started to rile him so much?  He’d left her for six years without a chaperon, any man could have…  Edward didn’t want to believe that the hot writhing ball in the pit of his stomach was jealousy, but that was definitely what it felt like.

“Is it a crime to
what
?” Daphne taunted, and then seemed to add for good measure.  “My Lord?”

A muscle twitched in Edward’s cheek.  He was damned if he was going to try being
nice
to her again!  “Wilkins?” he barked.  “The carriage, is it ready?”

“Yes, my lord, it should be just-” but Edward didn’t let the butler finish.  He caught hold of Daphne by the arm and marched her out the front door.

“Edward!” Daphne squealed, having to practically run down the steps in front of the house to keep up with her husband’s long stride.  “Stop this!” she scolded.  “What has gotten into you?” she demanded hotly, looking up into his face as though she didn’
t even know who he was.
S
he
didn’t
know who he was on so many levels
, Edward suspected. 

Whatever girlish fantasies Daphne had held about him, when she plucked him off the shelf and decided that he was the man who’d make her the ideal husband, she had quite obviously miscalculated.

“Get in,” he snapped curtly, practically throwing her inside the carriage.  He followed after her, slamming the door violently.

“Who do you think you are?” Daphne exploded once they were alone.

“Don’t tempt me, Daphne,” Edward growled, shooting her a look that silenced her indignant spluttering.  “I’m trying very hard to keep my temper.”

“This is you keeping your temper?” Daphne gaped incredulously. 

There was something in the
way she said i
t that almost made Edward grin, but then he reminded himself that he was furious
. W
hen he reminded himself of
why
he was furious
,  however,
he felt a little stupid.    

“You’ll forgive me for saying so, my lord, but you don’t seem to be managing very well,” Daphne mused, and there was something so darling in her puzzled tone that Edward started to laugh.  Daphne stared at him in mild alarm.  “Lord Coventry?”

“You really should call me Edward you know,” he corrected her, still smiling, and unable to blame Daphne for the charming look of confusion that was etched upon her face.

“Oh- but not in public, or- or outside the house!” she said quickly. 

Edward raised an eyebrow.  “And why might that be,
Daphne
?” he drawled slowly.

“Well because-” Daphne began, but then paused, Edward loved that she had to pause and gather her thoughts.  “Because it’s rather- familiar,” she struggled on valiantly, which caused Edward’s smile to take on a very masculine edge.

“And we aren’t familiar?” he said aloud, watching the flush that
colored
Daphne’s cheeks.  “Perhaps not yet, perhaps not as familiar I would like us to be,” he breathed huskily, his voice heavy with innuendo.  Daphne gasped, and the catch in her breath throbbed immediately in Edward’s groin. 

He moved suddenly, changing seats so that instead of sitting opposite his wife he was beside her.  Daphne’s silvery eyes widened and her breath took on a shaky quality as she responded to his nearness.  He caught her gloved hand in his own, and leant ever closer.

“What would you say if I told you I was going to make you my wife tonight?” Edward whispered against the shell of Daphne’s ear.

“I- I don’t know exactly what you mean,” Daphne confessed, but her voice was breathless, and when he pulled back to look into her eyes once again Edward
recognized
the desire swirling in their depths. 

Perhaps Daphne didn’t
recognize
it, perhaps she didn’t understand the clenching need that was gathering in her womb, but Edward could see that it was there, and his body yearned to be the one to finally sate her desire.

“Daphne,” he sighed, body aching with longing as she drifted towards him, mouth slightly parted and eyes searching.  Edward felt the whisper of her breath on his lips and then- and then the carriage rolled to a stop and she started away from him.

“I’m sorry!” she gasped.  “I shouldn’t have-”

“You
should
have,” Edward growled, annoyed only that their ride, and what had promised to be a very interesting little interlude, had come to such an unsatisfactory end.  Daphne blushed and looked down at her lap.

“Everyone is going to want to meet you,” she murmured, a little reverently, just as the footman opened up the door.

“Are you going to be all right?” Edward asked suddenly.  His wife looked surprised by the question.

“Of course,” she murmured, accepting Edward’s arm as he helped her down from the carriage.  He walked her to the door, feeling what he could only think to label as pride, as he once again appraised the elegant figure of the woman by his side.

Chapter 11

Daphne had been dreading the Butterworth
’s
ball all day, in fact, she had been dreading it ever since Edward had accepted Mrs. Butterworth’s invitation.  So she couldn’t quite understand why she was walking up the steps to the Butterworth
’s
house with a smile on her lips, a lightness in her heart, and a nervous kind of excitement coiling in the pit of her stomach.

She had felt so many different things since Edward had returned that it was difficult to keep track of her emotions.  Within the space of half an hour she had endured Edward’s anger, his amusement… his desire?

“I want you to save your first dance for me,” Edward purred into her ear as they entered the front foyer of the Butterworth
’s
house, which caused Daphne’s cheeks to positively burn, so that she was certain she looked hot and flustered when Mrs. Butterworth accosted them before she even had her cloak off.  She
must
have been lying in wait, Daphne considered bitterly.

“
Lord
Coventry!” Mrs. Butterworth boomed.  Daphne feared for her eardrums.  She also feared that their hostess could be heard from the next room, which was undoubtedly what Mrs. Butterworth was aiming for.  “Lord Coventry,” she repeated, while Edward seemed to have to work very hard at maintaining a bland smile.  “And Lady Coventry,” she added, sparing a glance for the countess.  “I’m so delighted that you could come.”

“We’re delighted to be here, Mrs. Butterworth,” Edward said graciously.  Daphne frowned as their hostess nearly swooned at her husband’s feet, despite being old enough to be his mother.

“Let me show
you
into our humble little ballroom, my lord,” Mrs. Butterworth tittered, trying to usher the earl along.  Edward was not a man who could
be
‘ushered’ anywhere however, he waited very deliberately until his wife was ready and then deigned to follow Mrs. Butterworth.  The older woman laughed girlishly.  “There are so many people I want to introduce you to, my lord,” she enthused.

To say that the ballroom fell silent when Edward Everton, Earl of Coventry, walked through the large double doors into the glittering arena, wouldn’t have been quite true, but there
was
a strange rippling hush.  It was as if the people nearest the door caught their breath, and this low gasp radiated outwards, so that, within a couple of minutes, Daphne didn’t imagine a single person hadn’t been nudged and told ‘
look there, the Earl of Coventry, yes, you remember, there was that scandal with his wife…
’

Most people had the sense and good manners not to
outright
stare
, but to Daphne’s discomfort, there were quite a few people who didn’t seem able to grasp this basic rule of etiquette. 

“You absolutely must meet the D
uke of Berwick,” Mrs. Butterworth
was saying, leading them over to a man who stood a scant inch or two shorter than Edward.  Daphne wasn’t well acquainted with the Duke, but she watched a flash of recognition light his friendly blue eyes when he caught sight of Edward.

“Good God, Everton!” he grinned.  “Although, I suppose it should be Coventry now,” he corrected himself thoughtfully.  “You crept back into the country on the quiet, didn’t you?” the duke chuckled.