The Handmaiden's Necklace (17 page)

Even if he tried, Robert couldn’t make himself believe it.

“Are you hearing me, Robert? In this, you must heed my words. Let me continue my efforts, see what more I can find out. Stay here, Robert, where you are safe.”

Robert nodded, knowing his cousin was right. But it was difficult to sit and do nothing. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could continue.

Danielle sat before the dresser in her bedchamber, trying to work up the courage for another tedious supper with Rafael, who would politely withdraw to his study the moment the meal was over. For the past two weeks, he had been so distant, so strangely remote. It was as if they had never spent those weeks together aboard the ship.

Danielle sighed. It bothered her, and yet part of her was glad. As long as Rafe remained aloof, her heart was not in danger.

Which was exactly the way she wanted it—wasn’t it?

She glanced up at a light knock on her door. Caro hurried in as she always did, filling the room with her bright presence.

“It is getting late, past time you dressed for supper. Have you decided what you wish to wear?”

“How about something in black? That will certainly match my mood.” Though she and Rafael were now man and wife, of late, she rarely saw him. He had come to her bed only a very few times, and even when they made love, he remained strangely withdrawn.

“It is the duke, is it not?” Caro’s voice broke into her thoughts. “He has been terribly remote of late.”

“That is putting it kindly. He is as he was the night I first saw him at the Widows and Orphans ball. I remember thinking that he had become the politely bored, aloof sort of man who wouldn’t attract me a’tall.”

“He has certainly been acting peculiar. I feel as if I am walking in a tiger’s cage whenever I pass by him. On the surface he seems calm, but underneath he is a big cat crouched and ready to spring.”

It was true, and Danielle had the most ridiculous urge to prod him into losing his tight control. She looked over her shoulder at the armoire in the corner.

“I think, perhaps, I would like to wear the emerald satin, the one with the very low décolletage.” After her return to London, at the dowager’s insistence, she had been fitted with an entire new wardrobe.

“You are the Duchess of Sheffield,” her mother-in-law had said. “It is time you dressed the part.”

Except for the tiresome fittings, wearing the lovely new morning dresses, day dresses and evening gowns she had acquired was scarcely a hardship.

Walking over to the armoire, Caro retrieved the gown and laid it out on the amber counterpane on top of the big four-poster bed. The furnishings were ivory and gilt, the draperies a very soft gold. It was a lovely, feminine room that Rafe’s mother had refurbished for the woman who would one day become his bride.

Caro looked down at the gown, surveyed the daring décolletage, and one of her pale blond eyebrows arched up. “If you wear this, I hope the dowager will not be joining the two of you for supper.”

Dani went over to examine the gown. The satin bodice was designed to drape low over her breasts, exposing a great deal of her bosom. The narrow satin skirt was split nearly to the knee and trimmed with fine gold embroidery in a Grecian design.

“The duchess has plans for the evening,” Dani said, her fingers running over the slick texture of the satin. “Let us see if Rafael can maintain his annoying distance while I am wearing this.”

Caro laughed. She busied herself fetching the rest of Danielle’s garments, her chemise, stockings and garters, a pair of emerald kid slippers, but as the minutes ticked past, her expression began to change.

Dani had seen that unhappy look far too often lately. “What is it, dearest?” But she already knew the answer.

Caro sank down on the four-poster bed, her narrow
shoulders slumping. “It’s Robert. I can’t stop thinking about him, Dani. First I worry if he is safe, then I think that perhaps it was all a lie and he never cared a whit for me, that he only pretended to love me so that I would help him get the money he wanted.”

She flashed Danielle an agonized glance and tears welled in her eyes. “I gave him your beautiful necklace. If he wanted money, he succeeded far better than he ever could have planned.”

Danielle’s heart went out to her friend. There was no way to know the truth. Dani couldn’t help wondering if Caro would ever see the man she loved again.

“You mustn’t give up hope. You had faith in him once, and you are no fool.”

Caro wiped her eyes, dragged in a shaky breath. “You are right, of course.” As if to push aside the painful thoughts, she tossed her head, ruffling her pale blond curls. “I’m sorry. I know it is foolish, but I miss him so very much.”

Dani took her friend’s fine-boned hand. “You mustn’t fret, dearest. In time, it will all work out.”

Caro just nodded. Her gaze returned to the emerald satin gown and she smiled. “In the meantime, perhaps one of us can improve her wretched mood.”

Moving closer to the bed, Dani picked up the daringly low-cut gown she had purchased on a whim when she was being fitted for her new wardrobe.

“I think I shall leave my hair down,” Dani said, reaching up to remove one of the pins holding it in place.

Caro rolled her eyes. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall.”

Dani stared down at the dress, watching the way the
lamplight flickered over the lustrous satin, shimmered on the Grecian designs sewn in fine gold thread. “Perhaps tonight will prove a bit more interesting than the past week has been.”

Caro looked at Dani, and both of them grinned.

D
ressed in a burgundy tailcoat and dove-gray breeches, Rafe waited till the last possible moment before descending the wide marble staircase on his way to supper. As per his request, the meal would be served in the sumptuous State Dining Room, where he and Danielle would be seated at a long, inlaid rosewood table lined with twenty-four chairs.

The moldings overhead were gilt and ornately carved. Three crystal chandeliers hung over the table, and a fire burned in the huge gilt-and-marble fireplace set into one wall.

Though Rafe generally preferred the more intimate atmosphere of the Yellow Salon where they could eat more casually, after Cord’s visit he had ordered their meals be served in here.

Though he hadn’t gone as far as to seat Danielle at the opposite end of the table, the room itself had a way of keeping things formal, less personal, and until he knew the truth of what had happened to the necklace, he refused to become any more deeply involved with her than he was already.

Rafe stood at the bottom of the stairs, awaiting Danielle’s appearance so that he might escort her into the dining room, trying not to think of the necklace and what its disappearance might mean. Though he didn’t blame his wife for the loss, he wished she had come to him, had trusted him enough to confide in him.

And deep down, he was fairly certain the story she had told him was not entirely the truth.

As he checked the time on the ornate grandfather clock in the entry, Rafael sighed. Danielle wasn’t the naive young woman he had fallen in love with five years ago. She was a different person now, one he didn’t really know. He wasn’t about to let down his guard and risk himself until he knew the truth about the necklace.

The soft sound of footfalls on the carpet drew his attention to the top of the landing. He looked up to see Danielle beginning her descent down the sweeping marble stairs.

For an instant, he simply stared. In an elegant gown of emerald satin, she looked a vision, a goddess fallen to earth. Desire hit him hard, and his groin tightened with painful force. His shaft sprang to life, and though he clamped down on the need spreading through him, as she drew closer, it was all he could do not to climb the stairs, sweep her into his arms and carry her off to his bed.

Instead he stood statue-still in the entry, staring at her like a callow schoolboy. She had worn her hair loose tonight, as she rarely did, clipping it back on the sides with inlaid pearl combs, leaving a heavy mass of deep red curls to tumble down her back. He remembered the silky feel of those curls against his skin when they made love, and heat sank into his loins.

Danielle reached his side and smiled up at him. “I am exceedingly hungry tonight. How about you?”

His mouth went dry. His eyes raked her, came to rest on the lush swells of her bosom, revealed far too clearly beneath the low-cut bodice of her gown. “Of a sudden, I am feeling an incredible hunger myself.”

The soft satin molded to the plump mounds and the shadowy valley between them, and he wanted to rip the gown off her shoulders, to reveal those luscious breasts and take them into his mouth.

“Shall we go into supper?” he asked mildly.

“Oh, yes, please.” She took his arm and in the process pressed one of those luscious breasts against his arm. The muscles across his belly contracted and he barely suppressed a groan.

In the dining room, he seated her to his right, then took his place at the head of the table. Though he had chosen this very room so that he could keep his distance, she now seemed too far away.

“I spoke to Cook earlier,” Dani said. “I believe tonight we are having roast goose.”

Rafe looked at her, felt a sharp jolt of lust and thought that indeed his goose was cooked tonight. Danielle had always been a temptation he couldn’t resist, and there was no way he could resist her this evening. In truth, if it weren’t for the footmen stationed against the wall to serve the meal, he would shove the damnable dishes onto the floor and take her in the middle of the table.

She flipped a lock of flame-red hair over her shoulder and leaned forward to settle herself more comfortably in the high-backed chair. For an instant, the gown draped open and
he thought that he glimpsed the rosy crest of a nipple. Surely not, he told himself, but it didn’t really matter. The image had arisen and it remained, seared like a fiery brand into his brain.

“I think I should like a glass of wine,” she said, and one of the footmen rushed forward to fill her heavy crystal goblet. As the young man poured the wine, Danielle drew her napkin from its ornate gold ring and moved to place it across her lap. The footman’s furtive glance strayed to her lovely bosom, and Rafe nearly came out of his chair.

He wanted to toss the youth bodily out of the dining room, wanted haul him up by his blue satin livery and punch him in the face.

Rafe forced himself to take a breath and release it slowly. The lad was only human, for God’s sake. And Rafe wasn’t a fool. He remembered only too well where his overwhelming jealousy had led him the last time. If he hadn’t been so passionately in love with Danielle, so wildly jealous, he would have listened to her that night, instead of destroying five years of their lives.

It was a mistake he would never make again and the reason he worked so hard to contain his emotions, nearly an impossible task when it came to Danielle.

The meal continued, each course more delectable than the last. It all tasted like sawdust to Rafe, who couldn’t get his mind off Danielle and what he might do to her once the damnable, lengthy meal was over.

“How is the ball progressing?” he asked blandly, careful to keep his tone even.

“Your mother has set the date for a week from Friday. Parliament will not yet be reconvened, so there won’t be as
many people in town as there would be after the first of the year, but she is eager to see us returned to society.”

“My mother likes you very much. She always has.”

“She loathed me for more than five years.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “She is a mother, protective of her only son.”

“She believed I had hurt you. Did I?”

His chest tightened as the awful memories swept in. “Gravely.”

Dani looked away and he thought that she might not believe him. Perhaps it was better that way.

They turned to safer subjects, talked about the bitterly cold December weather, spoke of some inane article in the morning paper, made bland, boring conversation when what he wanted to do was drag her out of her chair and haul her into his bed. Every time he shifted in his chair, his arousal pressed painfully against the front of his breeches, and inwardly he cursed.

A footman arrived just then and they turned their attention to the cherry tarts the young man set on the table in front of them. A single, stemmed cherry perched in a pile of creamy custard in the center of each tart.

Danielle took the stem daintily between her fingers and lifted the cherry from its nest. Tilting her head back, she licked off the drop of custard that clung to the bottom.

Rafe’s spoon paused in midair.

Danielle used her tongue to lick the cherry again, then slowly slid the fruit between her full, ruby lips.

Rafe’s spoon clattered back down on his dish and he shoved back his chair. “I believe, madam, we are finished with dessert.”

Eyes wide, Danielle looked up at him. “What are you talking about?”

Rafe caught her hand and hauled her to her feet. “You want dessert—I believe I have just the thing.” Sliding an arm beneath her knees, he lifted her against his chest and started striding toward the door of the dining room, leaving a stunned pair of footmen in his wake.

Danielle slid her arms around his neck to steady herself. “What…what on earth are you doing?”

“I think you know. If you don’t, I’ll be happy to show you as soon as we reach my bed.”

Her hold on his neck went tighter, but he didn’t think she was afraid. A sharp jolt of lust sank into his groin, and he thought that perhaps she should be.

Danielle tightened her hold on Rafe’s neck. She bit back a squeak of alarm as he opened his bedchamber door, carried her inside, then kicked the door closed with his foot.

Just inside the door, he set her on her feet, bent his head, and his mouth crushed down over hers. For an instant, her mind spun.

Dear God, I have unleashed a tiger,
she thought.
Now what should I do?

But she couldn’t seem to think with Rafe kissing her senseless, with his tongue in her mouth, and his hard body molded against her. And there was all of this heat rushing through her, sending rational thought right out the window.

Easing her backward against the door, he skillfully popped several buttons at the back of her gown, which gaped open, giving him access to her breasts. He dipped his head, and she felt his mouth there, felt the scrape of his teeth
against her nipple. A surge of heat dropped into her stomach and unconsciously, she arched toward him.

Rafe caught the hem of her emerald-satin gown and he began to slide his hand up her skirt. The satin felt cool and slick against her skin and she started to tremble.

“I want you,” he said against the side of her neck. “Right here. Right now.” For an instant, his gaze caught hers, locked and held. His expression was no longer cool, no longer remote. The heat of desire glittered in those very blue eyes and his jaw was set with determination.

Dani gasped as Rafe’s mouth claimed hers in a deep, scorching kiss that sent hot shivers down her spine. He bunched the gown around her waist, and beneath the lacy edge of her chemise his fingers found her softness, began to stroke her.

She was wet and hot and trembling. This was what she wanted, she realized, the reason she had purchased the nearly indecent gown. She had no use for Rafe’s cool indifference; she wanted him hard and needy, pulsing with desire for her.

As she pulsed for him.

He settled one long leg between both of hers and lifted her a little. For a moment she rode his thigh, the rough material of his breeches rubbing sensually against her feminine flesh. Heat tore through her, settled in her core.

She reached toward him, began to unfasten the buttons on the front of his breeches, heard Rafe groan. He finished the job for her, freed himself, and she wrapped her fingers around him. He was a big man, thick and hard, fiercely aroused. Dani whimpered as he eased her legs apart, lifted her and drove himself home.

The pleasure swept through her, sank into her, filtered out through her limbs.

Rafe’s big hands cupped her bottom, holding her in place to receive his penetrating thrusts, and a powerful scorching need curled inside her. One of his hands fisted in her hair and he kissed her deeply, even as he continued the heavy strokes that pleasured them both.

“Let yourself go,” he commanded in that deep voice of his, and her body obeyed, bursting free, soaring, soaring….

A few minutes later, Rafe followed her to release, his muscles tightening, a growl caught low in his throat.

Seconds ticked past and they remained as they were, Rafe’s hard length inside her, her arms entwined around his neck.

Then he eased himself from her and stepped away, drew the skirt of her satin gown down over her hips.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She shook her head. “No, you didn’t hurt me.” Hardly. Her entire body still hummed with pleasure.

Rafe looked away. He had lost control and it was obvious he wasn’t pleased about it. He fastened the buttons of the front of his breeches, one by one. “It’s early yet,” he said calmly. “I think I’ll pay a visit to my club.”

It was scarcely what she expected after such a fierce round of lovemaking. Fighting an urge to ask him to stay, Dani forced herself to reply in the same unaffected manner.

“I’m enjoying a very good book. I think I shall read for a while before I go to sleep.”

They sounded so urbane, so civilized, when only moments ago they were both in the wild throes of passion.

Rafe made a polite nod of his head. “Good night, then.”

“Good night.” She watched him walk out of the bedchamber and wanted to scream. She wanted to throw something, wanted to shout, wanted to rail at him, and she didn’t really understand why.

Instead she took a deep breath, turned and walked through the connecting door into her suite. Heading for the bell pull, she rang for a bath, hoping the hot water would soothe her nerves as, for a while, her husband’s lovemaking had done.

Wishing Rafael had not decided to leave.

Final planning for the ball went into high gear. Everyone helped, even Aunt Flora, who had decided to remain in London for the next several weeks instead of returning to her home in the country.

“Even if Caro traveled with me,” her aunt had said, “it would be lonely without you, my dear. And if I stay, I can continue my work with the orphanage.”

“It would be wonderful if you stayed, Aunt Flora. And I would love to help with the children.” A cause that had become Danielle’s, as well.

She and Aunt Flora visited the orphanage at least twice a week, and for Christmastide, planned to give each child a gift. Unlike other institutions in the city, children of the Widows and Orphans Society wore decent clothing and always had enough to eat.

Maida Ann and little Terry had become especially dear, though each time she held them, Dani felt a pang of regret that she would never have a child of her own. She wished she could speak to Rafael about them, convince him to let her bring them home with her for good, but Rafe
was expecting children of his own and the fear that he might discover her dark secret kept her from broaching the subject.

At last, the night of the ball arrived.

Sheffield House, one of the largest, most palatial homes in London, had a magnificent ballroom that covered the entire third story of the east wing of the house. The floor-to-ceiling mirrored walls reflected the glow of hundreds of beeswax candles burning in silver candelabras, and huge crystal chandeliers glittered overhead.

The guests were soon to arrive, and Danielle’s nerves had begun to build. Gossip about the Duke of Sheffield’s marriage to the woman he had jilted was on every wagging tongue in London, but fortunately, with their return so recent, the two of them had not often been out in society. After the ball, all of that would change.