“Good morning, Lady Daphne,” one of the young blades called out, his words slurred.
She recognized him and smiled, giving him a little wave. “Good morning, Mr. Kent. I trust you enjoyed your evening.”
The man and his companion chuckled, and Mr. Kent raised his freshly topped-off cup of coffee. “I’ll need a bit more than this to sober up, that is for certain.”
“I wish you luck with it,” she teased, finding a seat near the hearth in the corner of the room and settling there.
She found an array of wrinkled but neatly folded papers—some containing the news, and others holding the latest gossip. Reaching for the first one her eye fell upon, she laid it open on the table before her. Before she could begin reading, someone else was greeting her from across the room.
“Top o’ the morning to you, Lady Daphne,” he called out, this round cheeks ruddy and flushed with glee.
His wispy white hair was, always, in disarray, though it only added to his charm. Shabby clothing, charcoal and paint stained fingertips, watery, unfocused eyes. The markings of an artist … a man she knew only as Theo. He would not stand for her to address him formally.
“Good morning, Theo,” she said, smiling at him as he sank down onto the chair beside her. “You look happier than I think I’ve ever seen you.”
“That’s because I’ve finished me painting,” he said, puffing out his chest and beaming proudly. “Worked into the early hours to see it done, but she’s a masterpiece worthy o’ the Royal Gallery.”
“Oh, pipe down you old fool,” Mrs. Russel grumbled as she bustled toward their table, laying down a tray laden with all the things she knew Daphne liked best. “Lady Daphne isn’t interested in those atrocious paintings you call art.”
Daphne giggled, lacing her steaming cup of coffee with a few lumps of sugar and a dollop of milk.
“Quiet, you old shrew!” Theo countered, scowling at Mrs. Russel while pilfering a biscuit from the basket resting before Daphne. “You wouldn’t know art if it bit you on the arse … and I doubt anything’s bitten you in your shriveled up arse in half a century!”
She rapped his knuckles, and he winced, but took the biscuit in two bites, glaring at her as he chewed.
“Now, now, children,” she teased between sips of coffee. “Play nicely.”
“I’ll play nice when this old bag of bones finally starts paying for his coffee and biscuits,” Mrs. Russel groused—even though everyone knew she allowed Theo to have his breakfast on the house when he was between paintings. The man often went months without selling a single piece, leaving him in dire straits.
“Help yourself, Theo,” she told him as Mrs. Russel rushed off to tend another patron. “I could hardly stomach it all.”
Theo thanked her and helped himself to another biscuit, while she took a scone for herself. Drizzling it with cream, she took a bite and groaned, the buttery, flaky confection melting on her tongue. Mrs. Russel should be as wealthy as a queen if only more people in London knew she made the best scone in all of England.
While Theo ambled on about his newest painting, Daphne gave him one ear, while opening the paper laid before her. While she was no longer a part of the London ton, she often found herself indulging in the gossip rags. It brought her an odd sort of satisfaction to be able to read about the latest scandals while detached from it all. A bit of a guilty pleasure—something she often indulged in along with Mrs. Russel’s decadent scones.
She had drank half her coffee and began nibbling on a second scone, when a certain name upon the paper caught her eye. Sucking in a sharp breath, she nearly inhaled a mouthful, coughing and sputtering as she attempted to catch her breath. Her eyes watered and her chest burned as she choked on a lump consisting of both pastry and disbelief.
“I say, Lady Daphne, are you all right?”
Taking a sip of coffee and clearing her throat, she could not find the words to answer him … not when her gaze fell back to that name, standing out among the other words on the paper. For a long while, it was all she could decipher, the other letters swimming about on the page, only a fraction of them remaining clear and still.
Lord Adam Callahan, Earl of Hartmoor.
Shaking her head to clear it, she blinked, certain she must be seeing things. Yet, the words remained, the other letters surrounding it coming back into sharp focus. Her cup rattled in its saucer as she set it aside, reading over the short report of Adam’s return to London after several months away. The writer noted that the earl rarely visited London, and never stayed for long, preferring to reside primarily in Scotland. She scowled as the writer speculated over his reasons for the sudden appearance—whether he might leave with a wife, or if he had simply come for a change of scenery.
Her mouth went dry and the shaking of her hands became so violent, she had to clasp them in her lap to still them. Her blood grew hot, the high neckline of her gown suddenly constricting … until she felt as if she would hardly be able to draw breath.
“My lady? Are you all right?”
Mrs. Russel’s voice reached out to her, and she glanced up to meet the woman’s kind, concerned gaze. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to calm herself. So, Adam had come to London. That did not mean she would encounter him, or that he had come for her. He had made it perfectly clear with his callous dismissal that she meant nothing to him. Why, then, would he seek her out just because they happened to occupy the same city.
“I apologize,” she managed, slowly rise to her feet. “I’m afraid I don’t fell very well.”
Fumbling about for her reticule, she retrieved a handful of banknotes and presented them to Mrs. Russel to cover her breakfast.
“Perhaps you ought to be heading home, now,” the old woman suggested, taking Daphne’s arm and guiding her toward the door. “And straight to bed with you! I don’t want to see you again until you are well.”
“Of course, Mrs. Russel,” she agreed absently, her head spinning dizzily. “Thank you.”
She stumbled out onto the street, one hand pressed against her roiling stomach. Though she had convinced herself that Adam could not have possibly come for her, she could not seem to find peace of mind. Her stomach churned and her heart pounded. She glanced over her shoulder as she walked, certain he might appear from around a corner at any moment, huffing smoke and snorting ash before descending upon her with his teeth bared.
“For Heaven’s sake,” she huffed under her breath. “You are being ridiculous.”
Yet, she could not help the cold frisson of dread that trickled down her spine, prompting her to quicken her steps toward home.
Coming March 21
The Villain Duology Book 2: The Dove
Click here to pre-order
A quest for vengeance…
Lord Adam Callahan, Earl of Hartmoor has spent the past five years destroying the Fairchild family as recompense for the ruination of his sister. Yet, it never seemed like enough … until the family’s only daughter appeared on his doorstep searching for answers. In her, he found the perfect tool for his final revenge. His plan had been simple—coerce Lady Daphne Fairchild into an illicit affair and ruin her.
An unexpected obsession…
After thirty days and nights in his bed, Adam sends Daphne back to London a fallen woman, the final blow that will see the Fairchild family scorned by society. However, he is hard-pressed to forget the beauty of her submission, or the brief moments of peace and balance she brought his tortured existence. Despite the bad blood between their families, he is determined to possess her, to stake his claim on her beyond the thirty nights she gave him. She will fight him at every turn … which will only make the chase, and her inevitable surrender, all the better.
A choice between love and retribution…
When the consequences of Adam’s deeds begin to fall back on not only him, but Daphne, as well, he is forced to bring her under his protection. He will end this feud between his family and hers once and for all, and is determined to put her behin
d him when all is said and done. Yet, it becomes increasingly clear that setting her aside will not be as simple as he thought. Her heart could be his for the taking, but only if he will abandon his vendetta against her family once and for all. Will Adam choose a lifetime of peace and love with Daphne … or will the need for revenge consume him, and eventually, destroy him?
More by Victoria Vale
The Scandalous Ballroom Encounters Series
A series of standalone books centered around the scandalous private lives of the London ton.
Masquerade
A Marriage Most Scandalous
Tempting Two
Submitting to the Marquis
Dominating Mr. Darling
Sexy heroes … sassy heroines … electrifying erotic romance.
Victoria Vale has written over two dozen Romance and Young Adult novels under various pseudonyms. As a lover of erotic romance, she enjoys nothing more than a sexy hero paired with a sassy heroine, flavored with a dash of spice and lots of heat. A wife and mother of three, she enjoys reading (of course), cooking, sewing … and other activities that aren’t appropriate for inclusion in a biography.
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