A Kiss to Remember

by Rebecca Minto

  On the fifteenth day, however, something happened to break the monotony of her staid routine. Daphne received a note.

  “Who is it from?” Annalise demanded to know as soon as she broke the seal.

  Daphne laughed, full of mirth and amusement. “Elliot, of course. Who else would it be? He is graciously thanking me for my well wishes and the gift I sent, and he says here he would enjoy visiting me sometime.”

  “What?” Annalise snapped, annoyed.

  Daphne, ignoring her friend’s waspish warnings, sent a note directly back inviting for tea that very afternoon. Annalise, true to her character, pouted all morning.

  “What do you really know about him?” she sniffed as Daphne dressed in a pretty pink gown.

  “Aside from the fact that he is my cousin and recently injured?” Daphne retorted baldly. “Desist your protestations, Anna. He is just coming for tea. It is hardly as though he would ravish me on the carpet in the parlor.”

  “Well, you never know about his sort,” Annalise sniffed.

  Daphne sent her a look of utter disbelief. “What sort would that be?”

  “Handsome,” Anna hissed, as though it were a blasphemy.

  “Your brother is a handsome devil,” Daphne chided, “and you hardly discredit his honor. You are being ridiculous. You and James are both here, not to mention a houseful of servants. Villiers would probably pop him one if he even thought of acting churlishly. I know he eavesdrops.”

  “Well, yes, he does,” Annalise allowed. “But I still don’t like it.”

  Half an hour later, when Elliot finally arrived, Anna was still bickering. “I mean, he could be anything. A pickpocket, a knave, a blackguard.”

  “A decent, honest young man who has every intention of acting with valor,” Daphne sang.

  Villiers, who had been listening at the door for precisely two minutes, knocked faintly.

  “Your guest has arrived, Miss Daphne.”

  Daphne started out, then turned to glare at Annalise. “Don’t you want a proper introduction, Anna?”

  “I think I will read,” she sniffed before she slammed into her room.

  Daphne laughed all the way down to the parlor.

  * * * *

  Elliot was looking around the room nervously. It had been a very long time since he had entered such a respectable household. He had forgotten how intimidating the expensive finery could be.

  Settees and plump chairs upholstered in the finest brocade, delicate little knickknacks arranged just so on dainty tables. Silk paper over walls. It was terrifying just as much as it was awe-inspiring.

  He jumped guiltily to his feet when Daphne bounced in. She was so bright, a soft body in frills of pink and lace and ribbons. It occurred to him that she was perfectly suited to such things. She had never gone cold or hungry, had never faced the dilemma of committing treachery just to survive.

  “Elliot, I am so glad you came,” she said enthusiastically. “I was worried sick about you.”

  “I never meant to worry you, Daphne. I am surprised your Duke allowed me to visit,” he joked. “I am hardly a popular guest.”

  She smiled gently. “Your hostess does not care for those respectable souls who spout their lineage in the same breath they ask about your bank draft,” she chided. “If you heard about the disastrous dinner party I hosted, you would know that. Miss Stockholm received an invitation while the Earl of Brentwood was somehow overlooked.”

  “Brentwood is a cad,” Elliot told her seriously. “You are not going around with him, are you?”

  She laughed. “I try to keep a safe distance, but he has proposed. Many times,” she added with a smirk. “It is most annoying.”

  Villiers knocked subtly and rolled the tea tray inside. She murmured her gratitude. Her heart clutched as she saw the raw hunger that crossed Elliot’s expressive features.

  He was beautiful, with that face of a fallen angel and his wild blue eyes. She had only seen that expression once before in her life, in the arms of the man she loved. It was not she who drew Elliot’s attention now, but the food. The poor man was starving to death.

  She averted her gaze so as not to embarrass him and calmly poured tea. “Do you take cream and sugar, Elliot?”

  “Yes, thank you, Daphne.”

  She gulped. “Please, do not be polite. I seem to recall you always had a ravenous hunger.”

  He filled a plate full of tiny finger sandwiches and delicate sweetmeats. Soft, cream-filled scones and sugared strawberries heaped onto a delicate little china plate so high she feared it would break under the weight.

  She sipped benignly, looking away. It seemed somehow indecent to watch him eat. Like a poor starved wolf suddenly offered a feast, he could not seem to swallow fast enough to sate the incessant hunger. It made her heart ache to know that his affairs were so poor. To realize that her own flesh and blood had fallen so far, and she had never even known.

  When he made to refill his plate, Daphne murmured, “Excuse me for a moment, Elliot,” and quickly fled into the hall.

  Villiers was there, standing either as a sentry guard and protector, or perhaps curious about the only man who had ever come to call upon her. It did not matter.

  “You saw?” she whispered.

  Guiltily, Villiers nodded.

  “Please see that he has food to take with him when he leaves, Villiers. I will not allow my own cousin to starve.”

  He nodded and started towards the kitchen.

  Daphne returned, beaming, only to see that he had nearly eaten every single morsel they had prepared for them both. It made her want to cry. Daphne refused to embarrass them both with such unruly emotion, however.

  “I apologize, Elliot. Your arm is better, I hope?”

  “Still a bit tender, but well enough,” he admitted.

  “I am glad to hear that.”

  “I cannot thank you enough for your generosity, Daphne. The gift was not necessary.”

  She smiled toothily. “It pleases me to give to others,” she said simply.

  “He is magnificent.”

  She laughed. “What makes you think it was a he?”

  Elliot laughed.

  Daphne had asked Villiers to order a tawny mountain cat from the same artisan who had created the sleek panther she had placed given to James. The feline had been carved out of polished tiger’s eye, with deep sapphire eyes. It reminded Daphne of her cousin, all sleek and golden.

  “Daphne, I think you know that I did not just come here to chat,” Elliot said solemnly.

  She nodded. “Things are bad, Elliot?”

  “Quite. I did not come to beg if that is what you are thinking.”

  “You were never a beggar,” she agreed. “But before we begin this conversation, I have one question to put to you.”

  “Yes?” he asked warily.

  “Did you see the man who shot you?”

  Elliot frowned. That was the very last thing he had expected. “Actually, no. It was dark, Daphne, too dark, and it happened so quickly. I heard the coach and turned. All I remember was a flash of white and then the pain.” Sharp, all-encompassing pain.

  “I am sorry; may I ask another question with your wholesome honesty?”

  Elliot blinked. “You may ask anything of me, cousin.”

  “Do you know of anyone who would wish to kill you?”

  “These are odd questions, Daphne. No, I have never done wrong by anyone of my acquaintance.”

  She let out a deep sigh. “Thank you, Elliot. Now, you were saying?”

  “Ah, Daphne, why the questions?”

  “Curiosity,” she blatantly lied.

  Elliot peered at her for several long moments. If he was nearly as astute as he had been when last their paths had crossed, he knew there
was more to it than she was telling. He seemed content to let the matter drop, however.

  “Daphne, I came here to ask you to marry me,” Elliot blurted. “Before you cry foul, please listen to me.”

  Daphne gasped. “You thought I would expect this?”

  He smiled slightly. “Well, something similar.”

  Breathe, Daphne told herself. Do not think, just breathe and listen.

  “I know it has been a long time since we have spent much time together. There is much you do not know about me, and you have grown into a complex, beautiful woman. I think it would be in both our best interests to marry.”

  Daphne frowned. “Pleased explain to me how you have come to this decision.”

  Elliot inhaled sharply. He had expected her to shout or throw a tantrum by now. He peered at her warily.

  “Lilac Manor will soon belong to me. Indeed, it mostly does already, Daphne. Father is too ill to do rights by it, you know. I do not have the wherewithal to run the place, and I’m sure you know that, too. Soon, my only options will be to sell, or to marry an heiress.”

  “Ah, so you are to become the dreaded fortune hunter,” she mocked fondly.

  His mouth twisted unhappily. “So it seems,” he agreed. “I am loathe to sell, Daphne. Lilac Manor has been in our family for years. I suppose it is pride. I do have pride in our family.”

  “I never thought you didn’t,” she murmured sadly.

  Elliot nodded at the unexpected comfort. “That leaves me with the option of marriage. Of course, everyone knows about my situation. No one is going to eagerly relinquish their daughter to a pauper.

  “You have also known Lilac Manor. You know of its capabilities and the beauty. You, more than anyone else I know, relish the history. It is unfair that you were ripped away from the only home you ever knew.”

  “I would never deny my abiding love for my childhood home,” Daphne told him tenderly. “But it seems such a cold reason to marry. Surely you realize that most of my inheritance is wrapped up in protected trusts. While my dowry is generous by most standards, it is only a pittance compared to the rest.”

  “I know,” he ground out. “And I know no husband could touch it without your express permission. That is why this would be ideal. You would know where every shilling is going. You know how to run the estate. You even know the people.”

  It was true, every single word. Nervous, Daphne stood and paced to the window. How many times had she wished to return home? Here was an opportunity. It seemed like a godsend, at this precise moment, when she was desperately struggling to find a way to escape the torture of loving James, of being locked inside a house every single day for weeks on end. For Daphne, it was a dream come true.

  But not hastily, she thought miserably. It would not do to make a snap decision without considering all the ramifications. Slowly, she took her seat again.

  “What if I offered to purchase Lilac Manor from you and give you an allowance to run the estate?”

  He gawked at her. “What?”

  “You heard me, cousin. What say you?”

  “I would have to say that is generous of you, Daphne, and I would gladly clutch at even that straw if you denied me your hand. I would prefer to marry you.”

  “I thought marriage between family was taboo.”

  “We are cousins. It is rare,” he admitted, “but not unheard of.”

  She sighed. “How bad is it?”

  He shrugged. “What do you mean?”

  “Do not play coy, Elliot,” she chided him. “Tell me how bad things are, and how this came to be. I thought you received an allowance.”

  He nodded. “I did,” he admitted. “It was drained recently.”

  “What, with gambling? Drink?”

  He groaned. “I am not like him,” he hissed. “I don’t spend what I don’t have, I do not drive up debts. Believe me, Daphne, I am nothing like my father.”

  “If you want my compassion and understanding, you must tell me how.”

  Elliot winced. “Father recently took another bad turn. The doctor refused to treat him without payment in advance. The stubborn fool is hanging on by a thread, a mere thread, and still he is running up debts.”

  Daphne folded her hands together, thinking. If what Elliot said was true, and she would make certain that it was before she agreed to anything, then he had acted with honor. Indeed, very few would be willing to pay their last coin to pay for an old man’s comfort when his death was ascertained at any given time. It spoke only of honor.

  “Follow me,” she whispered.

  He glanced at her quizzically. Impatiently, she grasped his hand and tugged. He followed her to the window.

  “Why—”

  “Hush,” she whispered. “These walls have ears. I want all of it, Elliot. You are trying to save my feminine sensibilities. Tell me all of it, and quickly. Understand I will brook no lies or dishonesty. If you cannot be completely frank with me now, there can be no possibility of me trusting you in a marriage.”

  Elliot spoke quickly, his voice low and rough with the pain of the admission. He told her all of it, every salient detail. He told her things that made her want to weep and scream at the injustice of it. By the time she finished, Daphne was helpless to her emotional need. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him for all she was worth.

  “Thank you, Elliot,” she whispered as she led him back to their seats.

  “Daphne—”

  “I will never share your confidence with another,” she vowed. “I must say I appreciate you coming here this way. You would not have lasted long if you pretended an affection for me.”

  Elliot managed a small smile. “I do have an affection for you, Daphne. I always did. You were a bothersome pest as a child.”

  She laughed, as he’d intended. “You are still insufferable.”

  Daphne thought quickly of what to do. She would not send him back to that hell. Still, she could not badger James into offering him house room and, indeed, did not think it wise for her own ends. For the first time since she had learned of her inheritance, she was suddenly glad for it.

  Money could purchase any number of things, among them safe, warm housing and decent food.

  “Elliot, I need time to think over your proposal,” she told him quickly. She watched as fear swept across his features. “Listen, now,” she admonished. “No matter what my decision is, know that you will not be alone anymore.”

  “Daphne, I did not come for handouts.”

  “I know you did not,” she soothed. “I do not give handouts, in any case. Consider it my own insurance that I will be able to find you when I need you. Villiers will arrange for rooms somewhere, I don’t know where quite yet. You will have food and a safe shelter. When I make my decision, I will send for you.”

  “This is too much,” he hissed. “Daphne—”

  “No, I owe you this much, if naught else. Papa was wrong to shun you for your father’s sins, Elliot. He should have taken you under his wing and taught you what you would need to know. He knew you would one day earn his title and lands. It was reprehensible. Now, would you stay here while I arrange things? I can have another tray sent in.”

  Elliot sighed. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “Not in this,” she told him shortly. “I will return soon.”

  * * * *

  It took hardly any time at all, of course. Money could buy so much. Villiers was had already made inquiries by the time she asked to speak to him privately. It took less than half an hour to pay for them. It took even less time to send someone to market to purchase whatever Elliot would need to see him through for at least a week. Within an hour, everything was arranged.

  Daphne knew this would be a turning point in her life.

  Chapter Sixteen

 
She had much to think about.

  As Daphne settled down to her customary game of chess that night, her mind was filled with confusion and worry and sympathy. She did not know what to do.

  Villiers moved a black pawn forward. “Miss Daphne, if it isn’t too bold, might I say that a wrong decision made for good reasons does not make it right.”

  She smiled. Villiers had a tendency to speak in cryptic riddles. It was one of the reasons she had come to enjoy his company so much in the evenings.

  “You heard more than Elliot would have been comfortable with, didn’t you?”

  He nodded. “Yes, Miss Daphne.”

  “Everything?” she wondered.

  “Even the whispers,” he admitted.

  Daphne matched his stare. “I think it would be best if you kept his secrets, Villiers.”

  “I think you are quite right, Miss Daphne. No sense in any man knowing such things about another, is there?”

  She shuddered as she recalled his terse explanation. It gave her more reasons to hate Countess le Dubois and her sadistic evil. If there was any way she could protect Elliot from her loathsome clutches, she would do it, no matter the price.

  “Marriage is a serious undertaking, Miss Daphne.”

  She frowned and moved forward one block. “I know, Villiers. It may not be necessary.”

  He said no more about the subject for a long time. He focused on his game. Daphne tried to, but it was impossible. She kept seeing how hungry Elliot had been, yet how proud and honest. Honesty was something to respect in a man. A fine trait for a prospective husband to have.

  When an hour passed, Darcie stepped inside, bearing a large cup of chocolate. Daphne sighed. She was up to her antics once more.

  “Missus, I made some chocolate just for you. Your favorite.”