A Scandalous Affair

by Karen Erickson

  It was like a miracle.

  He finally felt like the man who’d truly earned the title of the Marquess of Hartwell. Not a bloody bully such as his father but a…good man. Strong, and who could stand up for himself and for others.

  And if Daphne would listen to him, receive him when he came knocking at her door, he planned on declaring his intentions for her. Then eventually, in the near future, ask her to become his bride. His marchioness. He never imagined the lady he wanted for his wife would complete him as Daphne did. That she would be so beautiful, so daring, so delightfully expressive and passionate. He was a lucky man indeed.

  Hartwell frowned. Well. No need to jump to conclusions. What if she refused him? What if she were upset? She was a rational woman but he’d never seen her angry. He had no clue what she currently felt.

  Nerves danced in his stomach and he wished for another drink but held off. He needed to keep his wits about him tonight. Especially since this evening could turn into one of the most important moments of his life.

  Hope rose within him. So much he could barely contain it.

  A ruckus sounded from the front of the house and he went to the door of his study, peering down the hall. His butler suddenly appeared and rushed toward him, an agitated look on his face. Lindley stopped short when he spotted Hartwell.

  “My lord, a—gentleman is here who demands to see you this very instant. I told him you were resting but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “Wh-who is it?” Damnation, the stutter came back, just like that.

  Lindley grimaced. “It’s Viscount Huxley, sir. And he’s quite angry. He pushed at the door and forced his way inside, I’m afraid. I left him pacing and mumbling in the front parlor.”

  Christ, Daphne’s brother. This couldn’t be good. “T-tell him I’ll be right there.”

  He went back into the study after his butler left and poured himself another drink, downing it in one gulp. Brushing the back of his hand against his mouth, he contemplated the reasoning behind Huxley’s sudden appearance. Was he there to call him out on dishonoring his sister? Was he primed and ready to beat him to a bloody pulp for hurting her? Or was it merely a friendly visit from his future brother-in-law?

  He was fooling himself if he believed Huxley wanted to make a friendly visit.

  Hartwell released a stuttering breath and rubbed his brows with the tips of his fingers. His muscles were tight, his entire body tense. He needed to go face the younger man and get it over with then rush to Daphne’s house and confess his undying affection for her.

  The door to his study crashed open with a loud bang. Huxley strode through the doorway, his face a mask of barely contained anger. He rushed for Hartwell, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and jerking him forward.

  “You are a despicable bastard,” Huxley practically spat in his face before shoving Hartwell away. “Explain yourself.”

  “F-for what?” Hartwell winced. Only moments ago he thought himself strong, worthy of his title. Now he was just a weakling again. Stuttering and begging for forgiveness in front of a man who was his peer, the brother of the woman he was falling in love with.

  “For what you did to my sister, you ass. Use her up like some sort of common tart and then toss her aside, never to see her again? What the bloody hell is wrong with you?”

  “You know not of what you speak.”

  Huxley’s eyes narrowed. “I know enough that you’ve made my sister into your mistress and then abandoned her. She’s been miserable ever since you dallied with her. How dare you treat her like a common whore?”

  Anger rose at Huxley describing Daphne in such cruel terms. “Take it back.”

  Huxley’s brows lowered. “Take what back?”

  “Wh-what you called Daphne. You refer to your sister as a tart and a whore—no gentleman does such a thing. Least of all toward the lady I happen to care for very deeply. Take it back, Huxley, before I pummel your face in with my fists.” He clenched his hands at his sides and slowly approached the man, fuming with anger. No one disrespected Daphne like that, not even her brother.

  “Ah, that’s rich. You’re defending her honor after you use and neglect her so easily, as if she were a piece of trash. Go to hell,” Huxley snarled as he cocked back his arm, preparing to thrust his fist forward. Straight into Hartwell.

  Lord above, he had to defend himself.

  Without thought, Hartwell swung his arm, blocking Huxley’s blow. They glared, arms locked, pressed against each other, and then they thrust forward again, Hartwell’s fist connecting with Huxley’s jaw. A sickening crack rent the air and Hartwell winced, cursed below his breath. His knuckles stung. He shook his aching hand as he stepped back from the doubled-over Huxley.

  “Oh my God!” The familiar feminine voice sounded from behind.

  Hartwell groaned inwardly.

  It was Daphne. She moved past him in a flurry of pale blue as she went straight for her brother. She slipped her arm around Huxley’s shoulders and cradled him close, murmuring soothing words as he muttered in reply.

  Hartwell stared, unable to move. She was in his house, right in front of him, and he’d most likely made the biggest mistake ever in her eyes.

  Brutalizing her brother as if he was some sort of madman.

  “How could you, Cam?” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with sadness as she remained at her brother’s side. “You hurt him.”

  The blooming purplish color on Huxley’s jaw couldn’t be denied. He’d hit him but good. Hartwell didn’t realize he had it in him. “He threatened me first.”

  “He was defending me.” The accusation in her tone was plain. She was angry for his leaving for so long without much word—not that he could blame her.

  Hell, he’d completely mucked this up.

  “As was I,” Hartwell pointed out.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I doubt that.”

  “No, he speaks the truth. He was defending you.” Huxley spoke, his voice muffled, his jaw already swollen. “He didn’t like what I said about you and demanded I take it back.”

  “What did you say?” she asked her brother.

  “You don’t want to know,” Camden answered for him.

  She returned her gaze to him, her expression pained. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. We’ll be on our way, then. Sorry to be a burden, my lord.”

  Daphne helped her brother to his feet, her demeanor cold yet tinged with a vulnerability that touched Camden deeply. He’d done this to her. Hurt her, made her run from him because she believed he didn’t want her.

  He needed to rectify this immediately.

  “Daphne.” He paused when he saw the deadly glare her brother gave him, looking especially fierce with the darkening bruise on his face. “Lady Pomeroy. D-don’t go. Not yet. I need to speak with you.”

  “There is nothing left to say.” She tilted her nose in the air, all haughty noblewoman, and he couldn’t help but admire her spirit.

  “There is. I must explain myself. Tell you where I’ve been.” He paused, let his words sink in. “I never meant to hurt you,” he added softly.

  She sighed, threading her arm through her brother’s. She was leaving and wasn’t going to give him a chance to explain. “Well, you did, Camden. And quite well, I might add. I’m afraid I cannot dally any longer. I must find my brother assistance.”

  Daphne made to leave the room with her brother at her side but Camden stepped in front of the both of them, desperation clawing at his gut. “Let me summon my butler. He’ll take care of your brother, offer him the utmost care so we may speak in private.”

  As if he heard his name mentioned, the butler appeared, the picture of graciousness while he approached Huxley with the proper amount of sympathy. He disentangled the young man from his sister’s grip, leading Huxley out of Cam’s study with nary a protest until the two of them were left completely alone. They stared at each other as if a great distance yawned between them.

  When in reality, they were separated by m
ere feet.

  “Daphne.” He took one step toward her and she took a step back. Did she need the distance between them? That discovery hurt. “You can’t begin to know how sorry I am for fleeing so quickly.”

  “Where did you go, Hartwell?”

  He frowned. Her use of his formal name hurt even more. “Did you not receive my note? I arrived home the morning I left you and was told upon my entrance that the village not far from my country estate had been completely flooded. The people who live there work on the estate. They were losing their homes, everything they had. I couldn’t just abandon them and hope for the best. I made hasty arrangements and went to my estate. And ended up spending nearly a fortnight assisting them.”

  “Oh.” She dropped her gaze to her hands, which were clutched in front of her, her fingers twisting around each other. “There was no note from you, Cam. I never received any sort of note that let me know you were all right.”

  She’d worried about him. That small but telling revelation gave him a glimmer of hope. “How strange. I swear, I sent you a letter, had it sent to Huxley’s home straight away.” He shook his head, wondered where it had disappeared to. No wonder she was so angry. She believed he’d abandoned her completely. “You must believe me. I should’ve sent another note. I should’ve kept in constant contact with you and let you know of my status but I didn’t, and for that I am incredibly sorry. I didn’t mean to make a muck of things. I’m not very good at this.” He was rather terrible at it. And she was most likely tired of hearing that for an excuse.

  “No, you’re not.” A little smile curved her lush mouth. “And you did make a muck of it, I’ll have you know. My brother was prepared to murder you where you stood.”

  “He came barreling into my home, ready to beat me to a bloody pulp. I had to defend myself.” He was still surprised he did it.

  “And you certainly did, didn’t you?” Her gaze lifted and met his. “Are you considered a hero now? Amongst the people in the village?”

  He shrugged, a little embarrassed. He certainly didn’t feel like a hero. “I did what needed to be done.”

  “And what you did was very brave.” She took a step toward him, then another, and he caught a whiff of her sweet fragrance. He breathed deeply, hoped like hell she didn’t notice.

  “I need your forgiveness,” he whispered brokenly.

  Her delicate brows rose. “Why?”

  “Because I cannot live with myself if I don’t have it.”

  She remained quiet as she approached, not speaking until she finally stopped just in front of him, her eyes locked with his. “I shall give it to you if you give me something in return.”

  “Anything,” he vowed.

  “I want your secrets.”

  “My what?” His stomach jumped. What could she mean?

  “Your secrets, Camden. Why you don’t like crowds. The affliction you referred to the last time we were together. When I look at you I see a strong, handsome man. A brave man who gives willingly to those who depend on you, though I must admit you lack in regards to social skills. But that’s nothing that cannot be worked on.”

  He chuckled and she continued. “Yet when you describe yourself, you tend to find everything about you completely lacking. You call yourself weak and unworthy. I don’t believe that. I’ve never believed that. So what happened to you that makes you say such a thing? Believe such a thing?”

  The moment had come. It was time for him to confess all.

  Hopefully she wouldn’t run screaming from his study when he was finished.

  Chapter Ten

  Daphne waited for Camden to say something, anything. The longer he remained silent, the more she believed he wasn’t going to say a word. Disappointment flooded her and she hung her head. If he couldn’t trust her now, when could he ever?

  “My father…” He cleared his throat and she glanced up, saw the agony etched all over his handsome face. “My father wasn’t a very kind man. And I was a rather timid child. I was his only child and a constant disappointment in his eyes.”

  She thought of Camden as a young boy, sweet and shy. And hurting from the tongue-lashing his father most likely gave him.

  “I had a hard time speaking. It was difficult for me to get my words out. And when I became more nervous, it became worse.” Shame washed over his face. “I stuttered. I s-stuttered and tripped over every word. Sometimes I couldn’t even get the words out and it drove my father mad. He thought I was an idiot. T-told me I wasn’t worthy of being his son, of inheriting his title. His title, he called it. I didn’t want it.”

  “Oh, Camden…” Daphne started, but he cut her off with a look.

  “He died and I became Hartwell. I despised the name. Despised the title, hated everything that came with it. It became so blasted difficult for me to move amongst society that I avoided everyone. And rightfully earned my reputation as the aloof, arrogant Hartwell. They started calling me ‘Black Hart,’ for they believed I had one. I th-thought the inaccurate assumption better than the truth, so I never protested.”

  Her heart nearly broke. That he’d closed himself off so efficiently, would rather walk amongst society with a horrid reputation rather than have them know the truth, was incredibly sad. The true Black Hart had been his father.

  Daphne wondered if Camden knew he wasn’t to blame for his father’s horrible treatment.

  He released a shuddering breath. “So there’s my secret. I can hardly speak when amongst a large crowd. Even a small crowd. Hence the reason I don’t bother to talk to anyone. I’m afraid I’ll make an utter fool of myself in front of them if I do. Heaven forbid I make a mistake before the ton. The gossip would spread so fast, I would be the laughingstock of London.”

  What he spoke of was true, but she was sure it still hurt him to admit it. “You shouldn’t care what they think. Remember what I told you? You’ll spend so much time worrying about what they might think of you, you’ll waste your life doing so.”

  “I wish I didn’t care what they think, but I can’t help it. Their opinion matters. It will always matter. And so does yours,” he confessed, his voice soft, his gaze cast downward.

  She studied his bent head, his dark hair, and a thick lock fell across his forehead. He looked like a young boy about to be punished. Her heart ached for him.

  Daphne approached him, reaching out so she could place her hand on his forearm. His worried brown eyes met hers and she squeezed his arm gently. Wishing she could convey just how deeply she felt for him. “I would never judge you for the challenges you face. I still believe you a brave man. My opinion hasn’t changed.”

  She swore she saw relief brighten his eyes. “What I’ve done to you is the most horrid thing a man could do to the woman he—cares about. Though it was a complete mistake on my part, I can understand your anger.”

  Her heart leaped so high she swore she felt it lodge in her throat. “You truly care for me?”

  He exhaled loudly. “I know it’s quick. You’ll probably think me quite ridiculous, for we’ve not known each other for very long but…yes. I believe we are quite compatible.”

  She smiled saucily. “I’ll say.”

  His cheeks flushed though his eyes danced. As if he, too, was reminded of their one wonderful night together. “I believe I would relish growing old together, if I may say so.”

  Her heart softened. Her entire body liquefied at his stupendous revelation. So she gave him what he’d asked for. “I forgive you, Camden.”

  They moved toward each other in the same moment and he wrapped his strong arms around her, drawing her into his protective embrace. She held him tightly, rested her head against his chest, the steady beating of his heart beneath her ear. She’d never felt so thankful.

  “No woman has ever paid me much attention before,” he admitted quietly into her hair.

  She smiled and nuzzled closer. “Then they are all blind fools. And I consider myself incredibly lucky. Their loss is my gain.”

  “I never allowed them
to see me, Daphne. I moved amongst society like a shadow. You’re the first lady I’ve allowed to see the real me.”

  “Well, I thank you for sharing yourself.” She lifted her face up to receive his kiss, hoping to lighten the mood. She’d had enough sadness to last her a lifetime.

  She had a feeling Camden had experienced the same.

  Their mouths met, lingered. His lips drifted across her cheek, her ear, along her jaw, whisper-soft as he explored her face. She tilted her head back, allowing him better access, wishing he would go right on kissing her. Kissing her until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see or feel anything but him.

  “I believe I’m falling in love with you, Daphne,” he murmured against her cheek just before he devoured her lips with his once more. He kissed her so quickly he swallowed her shocked response and she curled her hands into fists. Began pummeling his chest in order to get him to pay attention to her.

  “You cannot make such a momentous declaration and then not wait patiently for the response,” she said, breathless once he broke the kiss.

  “I am a very impatient man.” He cast her a serious look, though she saw teasing in the depths of his brown gaze. “There. I thought it best I warn you before we carry on.”

  “You.” She gave him another light slap to his chest, unable to contain the smile that grew. But it was no use. She was so happy she felt as if she might burst. “Are you going to give me a list of your faults to consider before I declare my feelings for you?”

  His expression turned dour. “Heavens, no. I might send you running screaming from the house if you found out every single one of them.”

  She laughed, turning her face up once again to receive his sweet kiss. “Never. Besides, I think I might frighten you a bit if I were to confess my every fault and insecurity.”

  “I don’t think so. Now that I have you, I’ll never let you go.”

  The kiss went on far too long. So long, his butler entered the room and gave a discreet clearing of his throat to capture their attention.