Just One Kiss (11 page)

Daphne watched Mrs. Butterworth visibly deflate when she
realize
d that the two men already knew each other.  The older woman tried desperately to include herself in the conversation however.

“Oh- I didn’t
realize
that the two of you were already acquainted,” she simpered.  “How did you meet?” she asked, pumping them for a morsel of gossip. 

“We were at Oxford together,” Edward said simply.  Daphne gave a little start when she felt her husband’s hand on her back, urging her to step forwards a little.  “I’m afraid I don’t know if you know my wife, Berwick?  This is Daphne, Countess of Coventry.”

The Duke dipped his
chin
.  Daphne noted that his eyes had cooled just a fraction, but his voice was just as warm when he spoke.  “I’m sure our paths must have crossed, but I’ve never had the
honor
of an introduction before, Lady Coventry.”

“Your grace, it’s an
honor
,” Daphne bobbed in a low curtsey, and then listened curiously as the men became reacquainted.  Mrs. Butterworth listened for a while too, occasionally trying to include herself in the men’s discussion, but ultimately her duties as hostess led her away.  Daphne was certain she heard Edward mutter ‘thank God for that’ under his breath when she finally left them.

It wasn’t really in Daphne’s nature to listen silently without wanting to be a part of what was going on, but Edward looked so relaxed, so much like his old self, as he caught up with the Duke, that she was very happy to simply stand back and watch the animated lines of his face.  At least she was, until
someone rapped on her arm with a
fan.

Daphne turned to see who it was that wanted her, and then almost groaned audibly.  A very pretty redhead was standing in front of her, a very pretty redhead with sparkling green eyes and a little cherry mouth, a lush curvy figure, and the
cruelest
wit in the
ton
.

“Hello Sophie,” Daphne said with a forced smile.  Sophie was the same age as her, but had been married only two years earlier, to a foolish, but incredibly rich, young man – and already had a reputation for dallying with other wives’ husbands.

“Daphne,” she said, her voice sugary and sweet.  “So this is your mysterious husband is it?” she cooed.  Daph
ne bristled at
the way Sophie let her eyes linger on Edward.  Her gaze travelled up the full length of his body with an insulting degree of intimacy.  “Won’t you introduce us?” she purred, licking her lips like a cat.

No.
  Daphne wanted to snarl, but she couldn’t very well do that, so she turned and laid a hand gently on Edward’s arm to gain his attention. 

“Edward, this is Sophie Nelson.”  She felt a sharp pang in her chest at the way her husband’s eyes widen a fraction, no doubt in appreciation of the stunning figure of the woman in front of him.  “Sophie, this is
my husband
, the Earl of Coventry,” Daphne ground out, and as Berwick was included in the group, she couldn’t very well leave him out of the introductions, despite not really knowing her himself, so she announced him too.

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you both,” Sophie said, flashing both men a sparkling smile, indeed, she didn’t seem to know who deserved her attention most.  However,
since she seemed determined to annoy Daphne
, Edward ultimate
ly
won.  “Lord Coventry, I hear you’ve just returned from the continent?” Sophie gushed, sidling up to him.  “Tell me, what’s it like?”

Edward’s brows furrowed, but before he could answer, Berwick said lazily.  “I thought that was where your husband was headed, Mrs. Nelson?  Surely you would do better seeking your answers from him?”

“Wh-what?” Sophie stammered, looking flummoxed.

“Or, perhaps I heard incorrectly?” the Duke continued mildly.  Daphne swallowed a smile, maybe the Duke wasn’t overly fond of her, but he seemed to like Sophie even less.

“Yes, you must have, Your Grace,” Sophie said sharply.  “My,” she opened her fan and flicked her wrist delicately, “isn’t it warm in here?  If you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I think I need a glass of lemonade.  Lady Coventry,” she caught Daphne by the wrist, “-weren’t you just saying that you wanted a glass?”

Daphne wasn’t given an opportunity to answer before Sophie pulled her along after her, muttering something under her breath which sounded suspiciously like ‘
horrid, odious man, just because my sister refused him…
’  Daphne didn’t know what Sophie was talking about, nor did she particularly care to find out, but she was a little confused as to why
she
was being dragged across the ballroom, and then it became apparent…

“A friend of mine has been trying to speak to you since you arrived,” Sophie simpered once she’d regained her composure.  “With your-” she paused and tittered smugly “-
husband
.”

Daphne’s lips pinched into a line tight line, and the frown that she had already been wearing darkened when a man strolled up to them from the side of the ballroom.  Harry Beckham.  He was tall and fair, conventionally handsome, and thought himself something of a rake.  He had been trying to work his way into Daphne’s affections, or more particularly, her bed, for the best part of two years. 

Daphne would have been lying if she said that she’d never been tempted, and perhaps, if Harry had a brain that matched his good looks he might have stood more of a chance.  However, Mr Beckham had never coaxed so much as a kiss from Daphne’s lips, not through want of trying however.

“You are quite the talk of the evening, Lady Coventry,” Harry said smoothly.  His brown eyes darkened with something that looked suspiciously like jealously.  “You and your
husband
that is.  Why didn’t you tell anyone he was coming back?”

“I don’t suppose she knew,” Sophie said cruelly.  Harry shot the other woman a look as if to tell her to be quiet, and then, perhaps sensing that they would get no peace with Sophie in tow, Harry asked Daphne to dance.

“I promised Edward-” Daphne began, nervously casting her eyes around for her husband.  However, Harry was totally disregarding her protest.  He dragged her onto the dance floor and took her in his arms.

Edward was watching from the other side of the ballroom as another man stole his dance.  The jealously that he’d been doing so well to temper resurged with a vengeance as he watched Daphne’s graceful figure glide around the floor in the arms of another man.

Hypocrite
.  A voice in his head hissed.  It wasn’t as though he’d saved himself for Daphne.  The first couple of years after his marriage he had been with more women than he would ever willingly admit.  All in a desperate attempt to chase Daphne, and the memory of her innocent kiss, from his thoughts. 

It hadn’t worked of course, and Edward ended up merely feeling disgusted with his
behavior
. 

Edward turned his attention back to the dance,
smoldering
with jealously as he observed the sight of another man’s hands on his wife’s body.  He had to have her.  He had to mark her as his own.  Edward had never felt like this before, never known such a desperate, clawing need to possess a woman.  It was almost frightening.  Especially because it was
her
.

The second the dance ended he wanted to storm across the room and rip Daphne away from the blond haired gentleman who
still
had his hand on her arm.  However, Edward swore to himself that he would not make a scene, but that promise grew ever more difficult to keep as Daphne continued to converse with the man!  She kept casting her eyes around the room though- was she looking for him, or looking to see that he didn’t find her?

Finally reaching the end of his patience, Edward made to cross the ballroom towards his wife.  He was stopped on several occasions, b
y
several people
who wanted to welcome him back to their midst
, but he eventually reached Daphne’s side.  He couldn’t fail to notice that she looked flushed and guilty
. 

“Daphne,” he drawled coolly.  “Won’t you introduce me to your-” he paused and took in the full appearance of the other man “-friend?”

“Yes, of- of course,” Daphne gulped uneasily.  “Edward, this is Mr Harry Beckham.  Mr Beckham, this is my husband Edward, the Earl of Coventry,” she said, in a quiet little voice, as her eyes darted between the two men.  Edward glared at Harry, and Harry scowled right back.

Here was a threat
, and if Daphne couldn’t see that Beckham’s intentions were less than
honor
able then she was a fool.  Somewhat unsettlingly, Edward had reached the conclusion that his wife was no fool…

“It’s a pleasure to finally make you
r
acquaintance, Lord Coventry,” Beckham said, not sounding as if he found it a pleasure at all.  He offered his hand and Edward shook it, hard.  If this man had stolen so much as a kiss from Daphne then Edward would call him out.  “I’m sure your wife is most gratified by your return,” Beckham continued.

Was there any possible way that he could punch him here?
Edward mused, breaking the handshake before he broke Beckham’s fingers.

“Is she?” Edward drawled, turning his face to Daphne, who was looking somewhat pale.  “But I fear I’m a terrible negligent husband,” he said, his voice soft and dangerous.  “I haven’t even asked for a single dance this evening,” he added, pl
eased when Daphne bit her lip at
this lie.  “Would you care to dance, my lady?” he asked smoothly, not giving Daphne a chance to accept, and certainly not bothering to offer his excuses to Beckham.

“Edward?” Daphne’s voice trembled.  She sounded afraid. 

Good
, Edward thought, because she should be afraid.

“Edward, what’s wrong?” she gasped, as he husband took her in his arms as a waltz started up.

“I’ll break you both if he’s had you,” he growled into her ear, which caused Daphne to gasp and miss a step.  “I swear it Daphne, if he’s-”

“Edward!” she hissed, trying to shout in a whisper.  “We are in the middle of Mrs. Butterworth’s ballroom!” she choked.

Edward blinked, and frowned, all too aware that Daphne hadn’t denied that she’d had an affair with the bumbling Beckham idiot.  He had been prepared for the jealously, but the pain was unexpected.  If Daphne had turned to another man to
fulfill
her unsatisfied desires then who did he have to blame apart from himself?

He pu
lled her close, much closer than
society allowed, and was reward
ed
for his audacity
with
a delightful hitch in Daphne’s breath.

“I’m going to make you mine tonight,” Edward promised, his voice low, his words whispered like a threat.  He felt the shiver that ran the length of Daphne’s slim body.

“People are staring,” she whimpered.

“Good,” he growled, “maybe then people will
realize
that you belong to me.”

Some of the fear and uncertainty began to drain away from Daphne’s face.  Her eyes flashed at him dangerously.  “You never wanted me to belong to you!” she spat, as quietly as she could manage.  “You ran half way across the world to get away from me!”

“I came back,” Edward breathed darkly.

“And I was just meant to wait?”

“Are you saying that you didn’t?”

“I’m saying that I shouldn’t have, my lord!” Daphne cried, breaking away from him as the dance finished.

“Daphne!” Edward snarled. 

He reached for her, but she had slipped beyond his grasp.  People were staring at them curiously and whispering, but Edward ignored them all as he marched after his wife.  He didn’t know where she planned to go to escape him.  Lord knows he was
this close
to tossing her over his shoulder and dragging her home if she tried anything.