A Heart of a Duke Regency Collection : Volume 2--A Regency Bundle

by Christi Caldwell

  The girl picked her head up. “Do you suppose that means he’s not one of the scandalous sorts?”

  Daphne fiddled with her fork. Actually, that is precisely what she’d make of it. Society fixed on rakes, rogues, and oddities. Lords and ladies who lived staid, respectable lives usually escaped whispers. Usually. “Does it matter whether or not he is one of those scandalous sorts?” she turned a gently spoken question, instead.

  Alice’s cheeks bloomed red. “I expect you’ll find it silly that I should be captivated by a gentleman after a chance meeting in the street. But he came to your aid,” she said on a rush, “and glowered at his foul-mannered rake of a brother.”

  So Daphne had been correct in her suspicions more than a week ago. Mayhap she was less wise all these years later than she’d hoped or believed. For instead of any disquiet at her charge’s revelation, Daphne bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. The girl had proven perceptive, seeing the obvious disparity between Daniel’s friend and that man’s brother.

  “Not at all,” Daphne assured. After all, she’d also once been young and romantic. She, however, had the bad judgment to seek excitement with a rake. She’d not have Alice make the same mistake. “There is no shame in dreaming of love.” That elusive sentiment she’d so hoped for. She held Alice’s gaze squarely. “It matters that you find a man worthy of that emotion.”

  “Daniel would never approve of him.” The girl wrinkled her nose. Lowering her voice to a deep baritone, she did a spot-on impersonation of her brother. “Any wealthy gent will do. Don’t go wasting your attention on anything less.”

  Both women locked gazes and laughed. When their mirth faded, Daphne stretched her hand out and briefly covered Alice’s. “Your brother would not dissuade you from following your heart.”

  “Do you truly believe that?” Hope melded with doubt in the rightfully suspicious girl’s eyes.

  And yet for all the tales of Daniel’s debauchery, she did. She’d seen proof of his goodness in his offering her employment. Just as she’d seen it again when he’d sought to carry her abovestairs. “I do,” she said quietly. It was because of that goodness that she could not remain employed here.

  Alice beamed and spoke with a renewed enthusiasm. “I read through the papers, hoping to see some mention of his name.” She lifted the scandal sheet. “Wanting to know more. But then not wanting to see his name here, either.”

  No, because no good names or stories were ever mentioned on those pages. Reality intruded once more, ugly and unwelcome.

  She gave silent thanks when Alice returned her attention to those pages.

  Years earlier, she’d read through those same papers, with only one familiar name contained within. Lord Leopold.

  The food in her mouth turned to ash and she forced herself to choke down the swallow. Somewhere between Daniel’s revelation at the base of his thirty-three stairs and this very moment, she had come to accept the realization—she could not serve as Alice’s companion. He had put the ultimatum to her so very quickly that she’d not had proper time to truly sort through all the ramification and implications that could visit his family if her past was to be revealed.

  Liar. You thought of yourself and your security. You pardoned your actions, justifying them with the truth that Daniel was a rake.

  But the truth remained. Gentlemen could be rakes and rogues and scoundrels. Society forgave them their wickedness, even lauded it. The desirability of those scandalous nobles rose because of their depravity. Ladies, however, were to be above reproach always and at every time. There was no allowance or pardoning of error. A lady’s reputation is all she had and once it was gone, nothing remained, except for an uncertain future.

  Stomach churning, Daphne set down her fork, unable to take another bite.

  Alice sighed and tossed aside her paper. “I’m rather tired of reading about all the activities and events occurring. Vauxhall Gardens, the opera, balls, soirees, and we are…” She gestured wildly about the room. “Here.” For which Daphne was eternally grateful. She’d rather waltz with the Devil in the bowels of hell than attend a single event.

  And soon she would not have to. Why did that cause this ache inside her chest?

  Alice let out a beleaguered sigh. “You would expect in having a rake for a brother, he’d care to show me…something.”

  “There is still the matter of formally introducing you before Society,” Daphne gently reminded her. She’d no doubt when Alice was officially out, Daniel would usher his sister about Town, with the hope of coordinating the most advantageous match.

  Alice plopped back in her chair and, with zeal, ripped a piece of bread with her teeth. “I really know nothing about it,” she said around her mouthful. She swallowed her bite and then tossed the unfinished bread onto her plate. “I should, given Daniel’s rare departure from London and his failure to miss any part of the Season.”

  Sadness pulled at Daphne’s heart. Of course, with her mother having died shortly after she’d given birth to Alice, there had been no maternal guidance. With a rake of a brother, as she’d indicated, she should know something. “Did Mrs. Belden’s not prepare you for the Season?”

  The girl gave her a mischievous smile; a dangerous twinkle glinting in her gaze that marked her more Daniel’s sister than even the deep brown of her eyes. “Oh, the instructors certainly prepared us about…” She paused and, squaring her shoulders, held up a stern finger and spoke in clipped tones the headmistress would be hard-pressed to not admire. “Propriety and decorum and politeness and Almack’s and…” Alice dropped her head into her hands and made a snoring sound.

  Despite her dread, Daphne joined the girl in laughter. Having been born an only child, other than Daniel’s friendship when he was in the countryside, her existence had been largely a solitary one with only the servants and her parents for companionship. With Alice this past week, she’d found a joy in having another woman to speak to.

  “Did you not have a Season, Daphne?” The question rolled from Alice’s lips, easily reminding her as to why she could not stay.

  “I did,” she said softly.

  “And?” the girl prodded with more of that raw honesty Daphne appreciated.

  “There is something wondrous in the thrill of the orchestra, as you sit on the side of the ballroom and dancers twirl by in colorful gowns that put you in mind of a rainbow after a summer storm.” Long ago memories surged forward, so the orchestra’s strains played inside her mind. And she was that girl, Alice’s age, fresh-eyed with excitement.

  “Sit.”

  Daphne turned slowly to look at Daniel’s sister.

  “You said, sit,” Alice clarified in gentle tones. “Not dance. Sit.”

  The lady was far too clever by half and observant.

  “Yes, well, some ladies sit.” The cripples. “And others will dance. You are one of the dancers. I promise you that.” With her glorious golden curls and flawless skin and gently curved figure, Lady Alice Winterbourne possessed the beauty that found young women named Incomparables and Diamonds.

  “Did you wish to dance?” Alice pressed, searching her face.

  All ladies wished to dance. Didn’t they? And run or walk or ride and jump. Any and all movement was glorious and freeing. Whereas Daphne’s failed body held her soul trapped inside, where it had been since Daniel had turned her over to her father’s arms all those years ago. …You judge me for being a rake… But at least I live… What of you, Daphne? How have you spent the past thirteen years… “I did,” she said quietly. “With the right partner.” Instead, she’d picked a ruthless bastard who’d told her everything she’d longed to hear and she’d given him all for it. She’d not even had her dance.

  Now, she’d also be without a post.

  Brought ’round to the meeting she’d been putting off for the better part of five days, Daphne grabbed her cane and shoved to her feet. “I have a meeting with His Lordship,” she explained to the question in Alice’s eyes. An unannounced meeting wher
e she’d tender her resignation. “If you’ll excuse me?”

  Alice gave a jaunty wave and then reached for her paper, losing herself in those sheets.

  Lurching across the room, Daphne made her way down the corridors. With every step, she gave thanks for the first time for her lack of speed. She would convince him to release her of her obligations. Ask once more for those references, in the name of friendship, but she could not remain on here in London, a risk to his sister’s reputation and the funds he so needed. There was Alice. And her reputation could not be thrown into question by a disreputable companion. In being here, she posed a risk to the young lady.

  And Daniel, caring about nothing more than those eight thousand pounds, well, he’d surely be glad to be rid of her to protect that fortune awaiting him. What rake with a need for coin and his dissolute lifestyle would forfeit that on even the mere risk of a scandal?

  Drawing in a slow, steadying breath, she took a step and then froze in the threshold of the open doorway. Daniel and an older gentleman, his fine attire a testament to his status, both sat staring at her. “Forgive me,” she murmured and backed away. “I did not hear…I…forgive me,” she said hastily.

  As one, the two gentlemen climbed to their feet.

  “Please,” Daniel called. Coming around the desk, he motioned her forward. “Your presence was requested by my esteemed uncle, the Viscount Claremont.”

  Oh, God, his uncle wished to meet her. Daphne’s stomach dropped. She was a cripple, but she was not hard of hearing, and she’d have to be deafer than a post to fail to hear the mocking edge threaded through that one slightly emphasized word. This was the uncle who’d saddled him with an unwanted companion and also the stern relation who’d come to judge her worth. Then, wasn’t that the way of the world? A lady was judged as to her worth as a wife, a woman, an employee.

  Daphne pulled her attention away from Daniel and looked to the stone-faced viscount. “How do you do, my lord?” Shifting her weight over the head of her cane, she sank into an awkward curtsy.

  “Come closer, Miss Smith,” he beckoned, in even tones that revealed little. “My wastrel nephew is, indeed, correct. I’m here to meet you.”

  She pursed her lips at that unfavorable opinion so carelessly voiced about Daniel. She stole a glance at Daniel. He wore his patently false grin. How did he feel about that blatant condemnation? On the surface, he exuded an indifference, but how much of that was real? Entering deeper into the room, she claimed the seat Lord Claremont motioned to.

  Daniel followed suit.

  The viscount stalked over to the well-stocked sideboard and poured himself a drink. He wasted little time with pleasantries. “I will be honest, Miss Smith, I am, of course, skeptical of any young woman my nephew could drum up so quickly for the respectable role of companion for my niece.” The clink of crystal touching crystal, as he poured his brandy, filled the room.

  He couldn’t even deign to look at her. These noblemen. “Is there a question there, my lord?” Mayhap it was the truth that following this exchange, she’d no longer be in Daniel’s employ. As such, she wouldn’t subject herself to any stranger’s judgment but that insolent retort sailed easily from her lips.

  Daniel’s grin widened and this was the true one of their childhood, filled with mirth and approval.

  She scowled at him. Do you think this is amusing? she mouthed.

  Daniel nodded. Yes. I do, he mouthed back, following that with a wink. He smoothed his features as the viscount wheeled around.

  “Yes, there is a question there. Have you ever had a London Season, Miss Smith?”

  “One,” she demurred.

  The viscount strolled over, the tension in his frame, belying his relaxed footsteps. “Was it a success?”

  Daphne lifted her palms up. “It would depend upon one’s definition of success.” At his wrinkled brow, she expanded, “If a lady wished to avoid marriage and find herself a spinster, then yes. One might categorize it as a success.”

  Lord Claremont shot his eyebrows to his hairline.

  Daniel folded his arms. “I believe Miss Smith has answered enough of your queries,” he said tightly, all earlier traces of droll humor gone.

  “I’ll decide when the interview is concluded,” the viscount snapped.

  Daniel shoved to his feet and layered his palms to the surface of his desk. “Is that what this is? An interview?” he seethed and a volatile tension rolled off his frame.

  Impossibly calm, the viscount reclaimed his seat. “Yes, this is an interview.”

  In short, he’d questioned his nephew’s judgment. With Daniel’s frustration a palpable force in the room, she was momentarily struck by a kindred connection with this man. Yes, Daniel was a rake and responsible for how the world now saw him, but they saw nothing more than a rake. Just as in her, they saw nothing more than a cripple. They were both relegated and restricted to Society’s views of them. And sharing that with him stirred something inside her chest…an emotion she could neither identify nor name.

  She met his gaze, an unspoken discourse passing between them. Emboldened, she returned her attention to the viscount. “What questions might I answer, my lord?” Either way, they were all irrelevant. Soon she’d be gone from this place. She curled her hands on her lap to keep from rubbing the dull ache in her chest.

  “I’ll be blunt then, Miss Smith,” He hadn’t been already? “Are you a respectable sort or one of my nephew’s fancy pieces?”

  She’d given her virginity to a bounder nearly eleven years ago. Therefore, by Society’s standards, one would answer in the contrary.

  “You go too far, my lord,” Daniel barked.

  Daphne quelled him with a look. She’d speak for herself. “My lord,” she began coolly. “I am nearly thirty years old. I cannot move without the aid of a cane.” With every concise declaration, Daniel’s glower deepened. “I have looked in a bevel mirror enough times that I know precisely what I look like. As such, I hardly believe my virtue is in jeopardy with Lord Montfort,” she said with a pragmatism that came from knowing who she was and accepting it. Crippled leg or no, she would have never been a grand beauty and it was more a matter of fact, than anything.

  The viscount took her in with assessing eyes. Cradling his snifter in one hand, he captured his chin between his thumb and forefinger with the other. “Some might say you are too trusting of him.”

  Since she’d entered this godforsaken city eleven years ago, she’d been treated with disdain. An inferior interloper either beneath notice or deserving of pity. Her patience snapped. “And some might say you are too disparaging,” Daphne said angling her chin up a notch. “It is all a matter of opinion.”

  The viscount’s jaw fell open.

  Daniel looked at her with more seriousness in his eyes than she remembered seeing in the whole of their lives together. He gave his head an imperceptible shake, but she ignored it, reserving her attention, instead, for his uncle.

  Setting his snifter down on Daniel’s desk, the viscount looked to her. “What do you think of rakes, Miss Smith?

  “A lady need take care to avoid them,” she answered with an automaticity that came from knowing the imprudence in not having a care.

  Lord Claremont continued to pepper her. “But you take employment with one?”

  Such cluelessness could only come from never having known the struggles and obstacles posed to woman in their patriarchal Society. “My lord, the opportunities and options for an unmarried lady are limited. When presented with serving as companion for a rake’s sister or working in a less than respectable capacity, I would invariably choose the former.”

  Silence hung in the room and then Lord Claremont smiled slowly. With a guffawing laugh, he shook his head. “You will do, Miss Smith. You will do.” He spoke the way one might of the Christmastide hog. “How did one such as you come to know a rascal like this one?” He nudged his chin at Daniel.

  “His Lordship’s family and mine are—” She grimaced, for with her father�
��s passing, those properties had passed to a distant relative who’d graciously allowed her two years before he’d seized her family’s home.

  “Neighbors,” Daniel neatly slipped in, eyeing her peculiarly. “Our families were neighbors.”

  “So you knew him when there was good in him?” the viscount asked, coming to his feet.

  Daniel immediately stood, with Daphne more slowly levering herself up by the arms of the chair. “I trust you see good in him still or you would not have put a test of morality to Lord Montfort.” Shock marred the viscount’s face and she immediately went hot. She’d said too much, with those revealing words proving that she knew more than any serviceable companion had a right to know.

  “I trust we are through here?” Daniel asked bluntly, his meaning clear.

  The viscount stuck a finger out. “You will be rid of me now, boy, but I will continue to visit and be sure you’re behaving yourself and watching my niece.” Turning, Lord Claremont dropped a bow. “Miss Smith, it was a pleasure,” he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

  She managed another curtsy. “My lord.”

  With strong, confident strides to rival his nephew, Lord Claremont took his leave.

  They remained in like silence as the viscount’s boot steps echoed down the hall and then faded altogether, leaving them—alone.

  His disapproving uncle gone, Daniel propped his hip on the edge of his desk and gave her another one of his boyish smiles that set her heart dangerously racing. “Miss Daphne Smith,” he stretched those four syllables out approvingly and clapped his hands. “That went well. You’ve managed the impossible—to impress my bastard of an uncle. I know I pledged to curtail my drinking. This, however, merits a toast.” Picking up his uncle’s discarded half-empty glass, Daniel saluted her and then downed the remaining contents. “Now, Daphne,” he said, setting the snifter down with a thunk. “What pressing business brought you to my office?”

  She fisted the top of her cane and straightening her spine. She spoke on a rush. “I have come to offer my resignation.”