“You’ll need to take off your gloves to tie the ribbons, I’m afraid.”
She should be afraid, as he was very afraid. Afraid he’d kiss her in this very carriage and never stop until they were both lost in each other’s arms.
“Of course.” Passion threatened to explode inside him. His own words sounded guttural.
He made quick work of removing his gloves. As he raised his hands to tie the ribbons, his fingers shook. He took a deep breath and commanded himself to relax. In seconds, the mask was secure.
When she twisted around to face him, he felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. Once again, she refuted his claim that he could manage anything.
Describing her as an ethereal creature was like describing the moon as a circle in the sky. Her loveliness was heavenly. Her skin seemed to shimmer in the faint glow of the carriage lantern. The mask did indeed disguise her, but he knew the hidden depths of her beauty. Her expressive eyes and the familiar tilt of her lips spoke a language that only he could understand.
With a shake of his head, Paul tried to dismiss such fanciful thoughts. “Are you ready?”
“In a moment.” She scooted close to him. “About this morning, I meant what I said about fighting to win the bid for the estate. But I want you to know that I’ll do everything in my power to help you with my brother. It’s reassuring that you’re here with me.” The smile on her lips was radiant.
“Of course,” he said. “There’s no place I’d rather be than with you here tonight, my dear friend.”
If possible, her smile became brighter. It reminded him of sunshine peeking around a cloud. “Whatever happened today won’t impact how we deal with each other tonight.”
With a deep breath, he tapped the window with his knuckles. Immediately, the door opened, and he jumped out. As soon as Daphne placed her slim hand in his, Paul came to a realization that gave him some, but not nearly enough, relief from his complete befuddlement.
All of his discomfort with Daphne could be attributed to his agreement to be friends.
What a ludicrous bargain.
How could they be friends if all he could think about was seducing her?
Chapter Eleven
Instead of feeling ridiculous in the mask, Daphne felt like a siren. The delicate crystals embedded in the papier-mâché were a delightful touch. For this one night she could act like her heart desired without anyone ever knowing her identity or her true self.
Elegantly tall, with an innate grace, Paul escorted her to the entrance of the Reynolds Gambling Establishment, where the doors magically opened, eager to do the bidding of the Duke of Southart.
Daphne understood the exact feeling.
“Good evening, Your Grace.” The majordomo smiled, then puffed out his chest for a proper bow. His smile brightened even more when his gaze settled on Daphne. “Lady Moonbeam, what a delight and surprise to see you again.”
Daphne bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment but didn’t utter a word. Though it was Christmas Eve, every table had patrons playing, and the boisterous noise of the gambling operation was almost deafening.
Like meerkats popping from the ground in every direction, men lifted their heads from their cards or dice to stare. Slowly, the sound in the room died. Initially the patrons’ attention focused on Paul, but soon all eyes were riveted to her. She cast a quick glance down to ensure that her breasts hadn’t made an unannounced visit. Thankfully, everything was in order. As the men still stared, she allowed herself a quick perusal of the room.
That was the beauty of the mask. She could see them, but they had no idea who she was. She saw several of her friends’ brothers in attendance. At another table, there were several peers who had no business playing cards of any sorts, as their estates were nearly bankrupt.
Before she could continue her study, Paul pulled her close, and she shifted her gaze to his.
“You little vixen. I believe you’re enjoying this.” With his thumb and forefinger, he gently clasped her chin and tilted her face. “I may have to challenge every man here for your affections.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his statement. “I never took you for the jealous type.”
“Generally, I’m not. However, with you here, I am a little put out.” The laughter in his voice made her smile. “I’m usually the one they’re gawking at.” He tightened his arm around her waist, bringing her closer to his warmth. He lowered his mouth to her ear. “They’re jealous of me.”
“Your Grace, what is your preference this evening?” the majordomo asked.
“Perhaps a private room. We won’t be long.” Paul pressed his lips to the pulse point on her neck below her ear. The blatant move marked his claim that she was his to the throng. Though the crowd also keenly watched Paul, he gave no hint of disquiet. “My lady and I are looking for the boy named Garland.”
“The little bugger was here earlier begging for scraps. He’s partial to Elsie, one of the cooks. If anyone knows where he is, she will.” The majordomo rocked back on his heels. “He didn’t steal anything, did he? He’s been known to have sticky fingers, and if the boy has taken something of yours, Mr. Reynolds will take restitution out of the little bugger’s hide.”
Daphne sucked in an angry blast of air. Granted, she’d been livid at Garland for stealing her journal, but she’d never strike him as punishment. Such a barbaric thought immediately caused her ire to rise.
“Which Mr. Reynolds?” she asked, disguising the anger in her voice. Once she discovered the correct brother’s identity, she’d give him a lecture that would make the devil himself blush.
Paul took her hand in his and intertwined their fingers. With their hands still clasped, he brought hers to his mouth for a kiss. “We just want to talk to the lad about a mutual acquaintance.”
“We don’t allow women here, but since she’s with you, Your Grace, and it’s Lady Moonbeam, I’m sure an exception can be made since you won’t be long,” the majordomo said. “If you’ll follow me, Your Grace.”
With quick steps that belied a man the majordomo’s size, the man escorted them to the same room they were in last night. After he saw to their comfort, he left.
“Your misstatement was excellent thinking. That was brilliant to say we were looking for someone that Garland might know.” Daphne settled into the leather chair closest to the door. When Garland entered, she would not let him escape. Besides, it gave an excellent view of Paul’s lean but muscular form.
He arched one perfect eyebrow. “Are you accusing me of lying?”
She shook her head. “I believe the term is ‘economical use of words.’” She tapped her chin with one index finger. “Or is it ‘terminological inexactitude’?”
Before she could finish, a brisk knock sounded on the door. Without blinking, Paul kept his gaze locked on hers. “Enter.”
A young woman about Daphne’s age crossed the doorway and curtsied. Her clothing appeared neat and clean, but the apron tied around her neck was colored with a fine dusting of flour. “Your Grace?”
“Yes,” Paul answered. “And you are?”
“Elsie Qulin,” she offered. “I’m one of the cooks here. I understand you wish to speak to Garland. Normally, he’s always underfoot, but tonight he’s gone home. He wants to be available for Christmas deliveries tomorrow. The butcher that supplies the Reynolds likes to use him when things are busy.”
“And where exactly is home?” Daphne asked.
Elsie’s gaze bobbed between Paul and Daphne. “Beggin’ your pardon, my lady. I didn’t see you there. Garland won’t tell me. But I expect it’s in Seven Dials.” She bowed her head. “The boy’s had a rough time of it. I don’t think he has any family.”
Daphne’s eyes widened. No telling what kind of dismal lodging the lad might find from the fiercely cold weather.
“Can you find him for us?” Paul poured a glass of champagne and handed it to Daphne. “Take a sip, Moonbeam. You’re as white as a sheet.”
Elsie narrowed h
er eyes suspiciously. “I must ask, what would you be wanting with Garland?”
“He has something that belongs to me.” Daphne didn’t wait for Paul to answer. “All I want is for him to return it. There won’t be any punishment, I promise.”
“What is it you think he’s taken?” Elsie asked.
“A book of sorts,” Paul answered. He sat on the arm of Daphne’s chair and slung his arm across the back. “Moonbeam and I want it back. Anything she wants, I try to get for her.” Like an attentive lover, he gently played with her hair. “Can you find him and make him return it to us?”
“For all that’s holy, he stole from a duke,” she muttered before she nodded her head. “Aye. You have nothing to worry about, Lady Moonbeam. I’ll get your book back for ye.” The cook looked to the floor and shuffled her feet. “Is there anything personal in it?”
“Well, yes—” Daphne struggled with how much to divulge to the woman.
The most salacious smile appeared on Paul’s lips. When Daphne started to blush, he straightened his cuffs. “My darling Moonbeam keeps a thorough record of her titillating social calendar. She’s afraid she’ll miss an important event and offend the powers that be in the demimonde. There’s nothing else important in the book.”
If only that were true.
Elsie returned Paul’s smile as if enchanted. “Thank the merciful heavens it’s nothing more than a calendar, Your Grace. You see, I’ve taught Garland how to read and write. Took to it like a fish swimming in water.” She heaved a huge sigh. “He’s developed quite a business of selling tidbits and pieces of gossip to Mr. Richmond. I’d hate for him to cause you any distress.”
“It causes me distress that Moonbeam is out of sorts. Would five guineas make it worth your while to ensure that the book is returned promptly without anyone knowing the contents?” Paul asked. He stood and poured Daphne another glass of champagne and handed her the glass, then settled back on the arm of the chair, completely relaxed.
She wasn’t even aware she’d finished the first glass. When the cook had mentioned Richmond, everything within her had revolted in horror. Mr. Richmond of The Midnight Cryer could ruin her with a single swipe of his pen.
“Indeed, it would, Your Grace. That’s very generous. With that amount, perhaps I can get the boy off the streets,” Elsie said. “Can you come the day after tomorrow? I most probably won’t see the scamp until the day after Christmas.”
By then, Alex would be back in town. Her brother would never allow her to leave the house for the Reynolds once the family returned. She bit her lip and willed herself to summon every ounce of confidence she possessed. She was her own woman now and could do what she wanted when she wanted. Besides her plans for Aubrey’s Place, and leasing a house, she needed to secure her own carriage, which would require groomsmen and a driver. Her future household would require even more servants. Such was the cost of independence, and she’d spend whatever was required to have her freedom.
“That will work, Elsie.” As soon as Daphne said the words, her faith in her own abilities doubled. She would control her own life from now on.
Paul cleared his throat. “If Moonbeam is detained, I assume you’ll give the book to me.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Elsie nodded. “I must be getting back to the kitchen.”
The cook turned to leave.
“Miss Qulin,” Daphne said. “Since you’re helping me with my lost book, if you and Garland need anything … any help, I would be honored to offer assistance. I’ll be staffing my household within the next week or so.”
“Is His Grace setting you up as his mistress?” Elsie asked without a hint of embarrassment. “Lady Moonbeam, I don’t carry tales, and frankly, I don’t care who you are. But I need to be certain of steady employment. You understand.”
Daphne gasped at the crudeness of Elsie’s question, and her cheeks immediately flushed. “No. I’m setting up my own household. As long as you work hard and are honest, you and Garland would have a place with me.”
“Thank you for your Christmas spirit, Lady Moonbeam. I might just take you up on your offer.” Elsie smiled and her eyes shone with an undeniable love for the boy. “I want to keep Garland off the streets, and a household away from here might be the answer to my prayers. It’d keep him away from the gambling hells and Seven Dials.”
In response, Daphne reached for her hand and squeezed. She marveled at the strength in the cook’s hand. No matter how strong on the outside, they were all weak when it came to people they cared about. Her simple offer gave Elsie something to look forward to, and Elsie’s gratitude provided Daphne with something much more—the knowledge that she could unleash a power within herself that the universe would envy. She could make a difference in someone’s life. What she couldn’t do for Alice, she could do to help others who found life’s journey too difficult to bear on their own.
Paul made quick work of the distance between them. “Excellent, Elsie. I’ll meet you the day after tomorrow.” He pulled a coin from his pocket. “A token of our good faith.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I report to work midafternoon. I’ll have the boy and the book for you.” Without a by-your-leave, Elsie turned and quietly shut the door.
Two days were an eternity to wait before she had her journal back in her possession. Never again would she allow it to leave her sight. “I need to search for him. If I’m not successful, then I’ll come with you to meet Elsie.”
“Once Pembrooke arrives in town”—Paul set his glass down—“he won’t allow you within a mile of this place. I’ll have two of my groomsmen set up a watch outside the butcher’s shop. Once they have him, one will come and find me. I’ll get your journal.”
“I can’t let you or your staff attend me on Christmas.” She shook her head vehemently. “I’ll ask Tait.”
“Moonbeam, once Garland sees you, he’ll run. He won’t suspect my groomsmen. They won’t wear their Southart livery.”
“That might work.” Though it wasn’t her intent to obfuscate or confuse the matter, she would be present at the Reynolds the day after tomorrow if Paul and his groomsmen weren’t successful. With a plan in place to find Garland, she allowed herself to relax.
Now there were more pressing opportunities before her, and she planned to enjoy them.
Like spending time alone with Paul. Tonight made her believe the possibilities were endless. For now, all her worries had popped like the bubbles in her champagne glass. It was time to celebrate, and she planned to do just that.
“Are you ready, Your Grace?” The purr in her own voice made her feel like a Cyprian who was ready to take control of the night. Never in her life had she ever felt this desirable. No doubt the cause was her mysterious mask and the magical man beside her.
“After you, Moonbeam.” The smile on his face was pure wickedness. “I would hate for you to find another man to escort you home.”
“I only go home with one specific man when I leave the Reynolds,” she offered.
“Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” The sensual promise in his voice matched hers. He opened the door with a flourish that the Prince Regent’s head footman would no doubt envy. Once she was in the hallway, he offered her his arm, and they walked together toward the main entrance.
At the end of the hall, a man leaned against the doorjamb to the main gambling room. With his back to them, he appeared to be surveying the room, looking for someone. One of the Reynolds brothers stood with him. When Reynolds made a move their way, Paul whisked open a door and gently led her inside. He immediately followed and locked the door behind them. Surrounded in darkness except for one lone candle that burned on the window ledge, Daphne felt his warm breath tickle the back of her neck. He pulled her close, her back pressed against his hard chest.
“Martin Richmond and Thomas Reynolds. I think it best if we avoid them for a few minutes,” he whispered. He released her from his embrace.
She grumbled at the loss of his heat—at the loss of him.
She nodded, then strained to hear the conversation. The thick door muffled the words. The men had stopped directly in front and didn’t appear to be leaving. She chanced a glance around the room that could only be described as tiny. It appeared to be a storage pantry of some sort. Silver platters, bowls, eating utensils, crystal wineglasses, and compotes were displayed like neat little soldiers ready for service when the call came for their elegance to grace the gambling hell’s famous private dining rooms.
Unhurriedly, a slight grin tugged the corners of Paul’s mouth. Good lord, but the man was handsome on so many different levels. Physically, he was a masterpiece of toned muscles, no doubt attributed to his love of riding. When he’d held her in his arms, she melted every time, and the attractiveness of his face could keep her enthralled for decades. Simply put, he was the type of man who would age beautifully and still have women fawning over him when he was eighty.
The clouds cleared and the light from a brilliant moon glided through the window. The reflecting snow enhanced the moon’s glow. The light kissed his face and illuminated the liveliness of his eyes. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was real affection reflected in their depths.
Daphne ignored the qualms and doubts that had started to sprout like weeds after a warm summer rain. Tonight, she was a caterpillar emerging from her cocoon. The man of her desires was before her, and she was Lady Moonbeam, a woman who knew her destiny, a woman who would pursue whatever this was between them.
Tenderly, she reached for his cheek where the radiance of the night’s glow embraced him. The sharp angles that defined the contours of his face caused a wonderful shimmer to course through her body and left her slightly breathless. He leaned toward her and closed his eyes at her touch. She brushed her lips against his, then withdrew for just a moment.
The Good, the Bad, and the Duke Page 12