Just One Kiss (16 page)

Edward made a growl of disapproval that shivered right through Daphne’s body.  She was sore and tender from her awakening the night before, but now she understood what these achy twinges, that gripped her body whenever Edward was around, meant, and she look forward with longing to the next time that her husband might chose to sate them.

“How long until he leaves?” Edward grumbled. 

Daphne’s lips twitched in a smile.  “Monday morning.  He usually leaves then at least,” she informed her husband, wishing that her brother’s visit had not had to fall so close to the date of Edward’s return.  She was just learning what it meant to be a wife, and she didn’t want her tutelage interrupted!  She might have been angry and upset with Edward, but she didn’t need Anthony’s interference!

“Go on then, go and breakfast with your brother,” Edward grunted, stealing another kiss, and then playfully tapping her behind when Daphne turned to leave.

“My Lord!” she squealed, but that only inspired one last heavy, drugging kiss to be bestowed by her husband.  Daphne swayed dizzily in his arms.

“You were leaving, I believe?” he chuckled, raising an amused eyebrow.

Daphne felt her cheeks burn.  What was it about Edward that made her take leave of her senses?

“I- yes- I was,” she said breathlessly, smoothly down her skirts and then sauntering quite light-headedly out of the study in the direction of the breakfast room.

Anthony had already started eating when Daphne arrived, (she had taken a rather slow walk to give her cheeks time to cool.)  Her brother’s head snapped up the second that she walked into the room however, and he pierced her with his questioning gaze.

“Explain!” he barked, laying aside his plate of bacon.

“Explain what?” Daphne asked mildly.  She felt more confident dealing with her bother alone, when he didn’t look like he might try to tear her husband’s head off.

“Edward,” Anthony forced out, spitting the name as though it was a vile taste upon his tongue.

“He came back,” Daphne said sweetly, helping herself to a cup of tea.

“And you welcomed him home with open arms?” Anthony growled.  “Don’t you have any self-respect?”

Daphne stiffened
.
The same question had echoed through her mind almost continually since Edward reappeared.

For years she had imagined what she would say and do when- if- her husband returned. She imagined ignoring him completely. She imagined delivering cutting remark
s. She had even indulged the fant
a
sy
of
taking lovers of her own- to prove to him that she did not require- or desire- his love
.

When Edward actually appeared, however, her plans were forgotten.
All of her plotting
had all been built around the cruel, monstrous image of the man that she imagined while he was gone. Silly, sixteen year old notions about love had faded- but her hate had dwindled too.

Standing close enough to inhale
Edward’s
scent and
to
watch his eyes, she caught flashes of the boy who had played with her in the park at Packwood.
Over the past few days, Edward had shown her that he was still capable of being funny, tender and concerned.
There were moments when she remembered why she had claimed to love hi
m.

There were reminders of his
capacity for selfishness and
anger as well. Although the memory of her first night as a proper wife made Daphne’s skin burn and tingle, she couldn’t quite forget what had provoked his outburst- how determined he had been to control and to punish her
.

All in all,
Daphne
hadn’t quite decided how she felt
- but she
was certain about what she must
do.

What did it
really
matter if
she
love
d
Edward again
or not
? She was his wife.

Anthony didn’t understand. He was a man. He had options. If he married and tired of his wife, he could move on with very little inconvenience or censure.
For Daphne, divorce was out of the question.
As hard and
as
lonely as
Daphne’s
life had been
while Edward was away
, it would be bleaker still
if he set her aside
.
She would be cut off completely from society and perhaps even her family.

Daphne didn’t know if she could love Edward again, but she had to try.
They had both
changed. She was determined to find out if
that had both
changed enough
to make their marriage work
.

“We had words,” Daphne
said
after a long pause
.  “
But we came to an understanding.
An understanding,” she continued coldly,
“t
hat concerns only my husband and myself.”

Anthony looked far from happy about this line of reasoning on his sister’s part, but he held his tongue for once and went back to eating his breakfast.  Daphne couldn’t manage so much as a bite, she sipped her tea sparingly and kept her eyes trained on the door, wondering if Edward would relent and join them for breakfast after all.

It seemed he would not. 

Anthony excused himself, claiming business with his steward, and left his sister alone in the breakfast room.  Daphne lingered until she became aware of the servants hovering nearby, waiting to clean up, and then she too excused herself and retreated to her sitting room, where she meant to partake of an hour or two of composing, mind-numbingly dull, embroidery.

Chapter 16

Dinner was hardly a happy affair.  Duke of Berwick stopped by for an impromptu visit.  Edward asked his old friend to stay and dine with them, but the Duke had a prior engagement and had only dropped by to say hello
(
and, Edward suspected, to check that things in the Coventry residence were quite all right after the
Butterworth’s
ball
)
.

It would have been nice, Edward reflected, as he ate his way through a tender venison steak, if Berwick
had
stayed for dinner, so that he might have had at least one friendly face with which to converse.  Anthony spent the entire meal spearing bits of food with his fork and looking like he wanted to take his knife to work on his host, and Daphne was unnervingly quiet, every time that Edward tried to engage her in conversation she rebuffed him.

Edward really didn’t know if he could endure a whole evening of this treatment and still keep his temper in check.  He wa
s just about to excuse himself,
when Anthony declared his intention to visit Carr’s, and to Edward’s surprise he found that his brother-in-law had decided that it was safe to leave him alone with Daphne again.

“Probably left instructions with the servants to spy on us,” Edward murmured irritably under his breath.

“Pardon?” Daphne said, but her husband ignored her enquiry, instead he murmured “Carr’s” with a note of puzzlement, and looked to his wife for an explanation; there had certainly been no club of that name in the city when he’d left London six years before.

“It’s a-” Daphne wrinkled her nose with obvious distaste.  “I believe that it’s a gaming house, of sorts, run by some sort of pirate, or that’s what I’ve heard at any rate.”

Edward nearly choked on the brandy he’d been nursing.  “
What?
”

Daphne sighed.  “The owner, a Mr. Carr, saved a cargo
ship, I think it was the
Lotus
, from running aground and then guided her back to port.  The entire cargo was declared a salvage to Mr. Carr’s account, and rather too kindly some might say.  He bought himself a club.  It’s rather successful,” Daphne frowned.

“And that’s a problem?” Edward mused curiously.

“It is when half of the ton are in debt to such an unscrupulous, ill-bred character!”

“You seem to know an awful lot about this man,” Edward said slowly, unable to prevent a wholly irrational flicker of jealousy.  Daphne had but to take an interest in another man, even an
unfavorable
one, and he felt prickled.

“Mr. Carr provided the
ton
with a whole season’s worth of gossip and scandal five years ago
.  I
was indebted to him then,” continued conversationally.  “I believe that Mr. Carr was at the Butterworth
’s
ball.  I’m surprised you didn’t notice him.  He’s rather-” Daphne paused to search for the right word.

Edward supplied a few of his own:
old, ugly, fat…

“-hard to miss.”

Edward grumbled into his glass and finished the rest of his brandy.  An uncomfortable silence fell after that topic of conversation had been exhausted.  They had retired to the drawing room after dinner, and the room felt far too large and formal for just the two of them.  Edward was just considering helping himself to a second drink, when his eyes alighted on the piano.

“Play for me?” he murmured softly.  Daphne looked up from her lap with a little start.  “Would you play for me, Daff?” Edward repeated more politely, offering her a small, almost boyish smile, which seemed to do the trick.

“If you like,” she nodded, speaking quietly.  Edward sat down in a chair from which he could best observe his wife, watching her appreciatively as she crossed the room and settled herself on the piano stool.  “What would you like me to play?” she asked, glancing over at him with her entrancing misty eyes.

“Whatever you would like me to hear.”

Daphne shot him a curious little glance, but then turned her attention to the instrument.  Edward didn’t
recognize
the piece that his wife chose to perform, but he let the notes wash over and absorb him.  It was beautifully bittersweet, not quite as haunting and raw as the piece Edward had found her playing that night
,
but there was still an undercurrent of sadness that made his heart ache.

“Daff?” he said gently, once she had finished playing and was simply staring quietly at the keys.  “Is something wrong?”

She blinked at him uncertainly.  “Why would you ask that?” she murmured, playing a few random cords to keep her hands busy.  Edward stood and crossed the room, resting his hip against the side of the piano as he stared down at his wife, as if trying to decipher a particularly perplexing puzzle.

“Because you don’t seem happy, Daphne,” he breathed at length.  He wanted her to respond with a swift:
of course I’m happy, Edward! 
Only she didn’t.  “Daphne?” he pressed, hating the low note of desperation that had crept into his voice.

“I spent so many years dreaming that you would come home, Edward,” she said softly.  “And now you have, and… it’s not how I imagined.”

Edward stared down at Daphne, his mouth had gone very dry, and it was suddenly hard to swallow.  What was she trying to say?  That she didn’t want him back?  That he was a disappointment?  That she was going to go home with her brother and leave him behind? 

“What do you mean?” he croaked, feigning a cough to cover the raw quality of his voice.

Daphne stood up and looked Edward calmly, if sadly, in the eye.  “You’re not the same man who left me when I was sixteen, are you Edward?”

He didn’t quite know how to answer that; of course he wasn’t
exactly
the same man. T
oo much time had
passed
. Too many things had happened.
“You’re not the same girl either, Daphne,” he said, by way of defending himself.  His wife simply sighed and smiled.