Daughter of Darkness Page 23

  Pleased with her? It was an understatement of the highest order. Rolling over on to his back he playfully took her with him. ‘I’ll tell you that a little later.’

  ‘You’ve decided not to go to London, then.’ She tried to keep the note of triumph from her voice, then wished she’d not spoken at all when he gazed at her with regret.

  It was too soon to leave her after such loving, but Gerard had no choice. Pushing her from him, he rolled from the bed and picked up his clothes. ‘I must.’ He stooped, gently kissing her lips before heading towards the connecting door.

  ‘Rodgers?’ he called, closing it behind him.

  His servant was asleep in a chair, but sprang awake when Gerard nudged him with his foot. ‘Go and tell one of the stable boys to saddle the stallion. I’m called urgently to London and will not be back for a few days. You’re not required to accompany me.’

  Rodgers didn’t turn a hair at his naked form. Taking the clothes from his master’s hands, he placed them tidily over a chair then laid out his riding attire before hurrying to do his bidding.

  Nellie, who sometimes wandered when the moon was full, watched Gerard leave. Her eyes glinted with tears. Drawn by her mistress’s cries, she’d watched through a crack in the door whilst the viscount had inflicted his vile punishment on her. Crooning softly to herself, she swore she would find some way to avenge her.

  Gerard was thankful for the moonlight. Showers had dampened the road, keeping the dust to a minimum. There had not been enough rain to churn it into mire, and the going was easy. The stallion was fresh, and wanted to gallop. Keeping him down to a canter, they covered the miles easily.

  He’d been on the road for an hour before he suspected he was being followed. It was nothing he could put his finger on. The stallion’s ears kept pricking towards the rear, as if he heard another horse. Now and again, Gerard thought he heard a muffled snicker, but the sound of his creaking leathers drowned it out. Remembering his brother’s assault, he decided to take no chances. He pulled into the shadow of a tree, drew his sword and waited. Sure enough, the sound of hoof-beats came to his ears. The horse and rider had been keeping pace with him, and was travelling at a fast canter, its rider making no attempt at concealment.

  Nevertheless, he intended to make a challenge. If he was about legitimate business he might prove a suitable companion for the road. He waited until the rider was a few yards away, then came out from behind the tree. ‘Rein in your horse so I can take a look at you,’ he said harshly.

  He cursed as a yelp of fright reached his ears. Drawn to a sudden stop, the other horse reared, slashed at the air with its front legs and whinnied so loudly his own mount gave a few stiff-legged bucks before settling down again.

  ‘You addle-brained wolfhound,’ Willow hissed, still trying to control her prancing horse. ‘I thought you were a highwayman.’

  ‘Lucky for you I was not.’ Rattled by her sudden appearance, he retreated into anger. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘I should imagine it’s perfectly obvious.’ She sounded as angry as he. ‘I’m coming with you.’

  His mouth drew into a thin line. ‘Are you, indeed?’

  In the moonlight, Willow saw the haughty lines of her husband’s jaw tighten and his nostrils flare with anger. ‘I think not, madam. You’ll return to Lytton at once.’

  ‘By myself?’

  ‘You got here by yourself?’ he pointed out.

  ‘But I was not alone. You were within shouting distance, Gerard.’

  Her twisted reasoning did nothing to improve his mood. She’d presented him with a quandary. If he took her back, there was no guarantee she’d not follow him again, and he’d waste valuable time. On the other hand, to insist she return by herself would put her in peril. She’d known that before she started out.

  ‘It seems you have the winning hand.’ He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Why did you not stay in bed where I left you?’ ‘

  And languish like a love-sick mistress who awaits your favor. I refuse to be treated like some scullery maid you’ve just tumbled.’

  Her words shocked him, as did the watery shadow of her smile. Her vulnerability was all too apparent to him when she drew in a shuddering breath and said in quiet desperation. ‘I’m well aware that you love Daphne de Vere, but I’ll not stand meekly by and allow you go from my bed to hers whenever she crooks her little finger.’

  ‘Daphne de Vere is dying.’

  ‘Oh!’

  She looked so stricken, he instantly regretted his bald statement. ‘I should have told you the reason for Daphne’s note. I need her signature to gain legal guardianship of Edward. He’ll inherit Sheronwood and its title before too long. He must be protected from your father until he comes of age. That’s her wish.’

  ‘I’ll return to Lytton immediately.’ If Daphne was dying, there was no need to fear she’d come between them. ‘I’m so sorry, Gerard. The situation cannot be easy for you.’

  ‘You cannot return to Lytton, alone.’ He gave her clothing a wry grin. ‘Keep yourself well covered, and do not speak unless you have to. We’ll pass you off as a boy should the need arise.’

  ‘Thank you, Gerard.’

  ‘Save your thanks until we reach London and the blisters on your rear are the size of hens eggs.’ He grinned at her. ‘You’re the one who’s addle-brained if you think I love Daphne de Vere.’ Closing the distance between them he leaned across and kissed her. ‘Let us go, wife. Keep pace with me and we’ll be in London by noon.’ He could have made the distance faster by himself, but didn’t bother telling her that. The ride would be punishment enough.

  Willow’s thighs ached, her spine felt as if it was about to snap, and her hands would not uncurl from the reins. She was so fatigued she couldn’t summon the energy to dismount. Giving Gerard a glance of mute appeal, she groaned as he lifted her from her horse. He bore evidence of strain himself. Circe and the stallion displayed none of their usual spirit when they were led away, though they’d rested them as often as time allowed. ‘La, Gerard, you’re a hard taskmaster. You pushed me to the limit.’

  Her attempt at humor brought a tender smile to his lips. He’d never met anyone quite so game, nor quite so stubborn. Carrying his weary burden into the house, he ordered a bath to be filled, then gave instructions to the housekeeper to find someone to act as maid to his lady.

  He stripped the garments from her body himself and when her bath was prepared, lowered her into the warm water. She smelled of perspiration, horse, and the stale aftermath of their loving. Her face was caked in dust. He grinned when he noted the chain of diamonds still clasped around her waist, and tried to ignore his erotic thoughts as he kneaded the knots from her shoulders and listened to her blissful sighs.

  He briefly kissed her when an elderly maid came into the room, chuckling to when she gave him a shocked look. ‘Get some sleep, my love,’ he advised, kissing her a second time for good measure. ‘I’ll see you at dinner.’

  Gerard didn’t take long over his toilet. He’d been accustomed to fend for himself in Virginia, and within the hour headed out on foot, washed, shaved and cleanly—though not richly—attired. The streets were teeming with footpads and pickpockets, and he didn’t intend to attract attention.

  His first stop was St James’ coffee house, where he acquainted himself with the latest gossip. Then on to Daphne’s house, situated half a mile away. There was a sense of familiarity about the streets for him. A circle of people shouted encouragement at two bloodied cocks fighting to the death. A chained bear was being prodded with sticks, the street urchins darting within inches of its lethal claws and maddened glare for coins. Outside an inn, two men were exchanging blows in a makeshift ring. The rotting carcass of a dead dog was sprawled nearby, its belly bloated, rats cannibalizing its flesh. The stench was awful. He placed a handkerchief over his nose as he made his way through it all.

  Gerard was shocked by Daphne’s appearance. The once robust girl had become a shadow. Her appearance was
not improved by a layer of white lead paint and rouged cheeks. Bruises colored the slack, dry skin of her neck. She looked grotesque against the pillows, and he almost recoiled.

  ‘Daphne?’ He managed to smile as he waved her attendants away.

  Her voice was so weak he had to bend forward to hear her. ‘I knew you’d come, Gerard.’ Her effort to speak brought a spasm of coughing. The handkerchief she held to her mouth came away frothed with blood. ‘You must stop him, Gerard.’

  Pity engulfed him as he saw her fever-bright eyes. ‘Of whom do you speak, Daphne?’

  ‘The marquis.’ As she sipped at the water and brandy mixture he held to her lips her voice grew stronger. ‘The papers for custodianship of both Sheronwood and Edward are lodged with the King. They’ll be returned to my lawyer for your signature on the morrow.’

  How had she managed to get priority on such a matter?

  ‘Come closer,’ she whispered, before he could ponder on it further. ‘I’ve much of importance to tell you, and little time left to do it in.’

  Her voice had a dry rustling sound, like fallen leaves stirred by the wind. He tried not to be shocked at what he heard, and was half-inclined to disbelieve the litany of accusations she made against the marquis. Daphne vacillated between past and present, sometimes referring to times when they were children, then in the same breath describing the abuse the marquis had subjected her to. How much of it was the imagination of a fevered brain, he could not judge, but despite his disgust, he could not hide his fascination.

  Anger burned in him when she told him of the price on Willow’s virtue. ‘He’s tripled the purse since you returned from America. She will be game for every rake in town should you bring her back to London. Be careful, Gerard. The marquis has no conscience, and seeks to provoke a duel.’

  ‘He’ll not succeed in making me challenge, I’m under a sacred oath to my father,’ he said dryly. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t accept a challenge from him, he was thinking. He might push the issue. ‘He’s under the impression you fathered Edward. He’s forced me to sign a document validating his suspicion and has used it to disinherit my son.’

  He started. ‘I received a letter from your husband intimating the same thing.’ He gazed at her with dispassionate eyes. ‘I’ll have the truth from you before you die, Daphne. If Edward is my son, I need to know it.’

  She managed a smile. ‘Damn your arrogance, Gerard. How can Edward be your son? His natal day is eleven months after my marriage. Besides which… ‘ and the scornful laugh that tripped from her tongue induced another coughing fit, ‘… the drug you were fed on the occasion of your marriage rendered you impotent.’

  Relief took precedence over the pique his pride momentarily suffered. ‘Then Edward is truly a child of your marriage?’

  Daphne shuddered. ‘Truly, he is not. My husband preferred not to slake his appetites with women. It was only his temper he expended on me.’ The disgust on his face drove Daphne to laughter, and another spell of coughing wracked her. This time it took her longer to recover. ‘You’ re a decent and honest man, Gerard, and I thank God for it. If I was free to tell you who fathered Edward, I would.’ Her voice became a sigh. ‘I can only tell you this. Edward’s father holds high office, and cannot place him under his direct protection. You understand?’

  ‘Only too well.’ He was too stunned to think of anything else to say. Her hand covered his. ‘I hope you’re happy with the child you were forced to wed?’

  ‘She is no child.’ There was something slightly obscene about Daphne discussing his marriage, but he knew she had not the breath to waste on idle conversation. ‘What’s your interest in the matter, Daphne?’ he asked more gently.

  ‘The marriage was of my doing.’ She placed a wasted hand upon his sleeve when he gave an incredulous gasp. ‘It was the only thing I could think of to save her from the fate her father had in store for her. She was to be broken by Simon Carswell before being sent to France. There, she would have become the plaything of the highest bidder.’

  His face paled at the thought of Willow as a victim to such licentious company, and a violent shudder wracked him.

  ‘Willow was such a wild and innocent little thing. She was starved for affection. Her expectations of her father were cruelly shattered when she met him.’ Daphne’s eyes fluttered shut. ‘The marquis saw her marriage to you as sport once I convinced him she carried her mother’s dark powers in her blood. For me, it was a fitting way to punish him for what he’d taken from me. Willow is his blood and she’ll inherit everything when he dies. His fortune will end up in Lytton hands, now.’ Her voice faded away to a sigh. ‘I loved you, Gerard, but it was too late for me. I knew you’d come to care for her.’

  ‘I’m beginning to,’ he admitted gruffly. ‘But she’s set all my notions of womanly attributes on its heels.’ He remembered the sketch she’d given him to deliver and pressed it into Daphne’s hands. ‘Willow has sent you this.’

  Her face lit up with tearful pleasure when she examined it. Once again, he was forced to consider if Willow’s blood could possibly be contaminated. So far, she’d shown no signs of being possessed. A satisfied grin came and went—except by himself!

  Daphne was lying against the pillows, exhausted now, the sketch held against her cheek. For the first time, he realized she was a victim of circumstance and had never deserved his condemnation. Thinking she slept, he was moved to kiss the painted parchment of her cheek.

  ‘Guard Edward well,’ she whispered. ‘He’ll never be safe whilst the marquis lives.’ Tears began to course down her cheeks. ‘Leave me now, my dearest friend. Tell my nurse to return and make me comfortable. I wish to rest.’

  When Gerard was outside and gulping in a lung full of air, he realized that the odor of imminent death lingered about Daphne.

  ‘You did not tell me your father made sport of your virginity?’

  Willow looked beautiful in a pale green embroidered petticoat, the frilled overskirt gathered into bows. They were playing chess, and had reached a position where neither could escape without placing themselves in great peril.

  ‘I assumed that was why you dueled with the officer from the Kings regiment.’ She grinned and made her move. ‘Check.’

  ‘Mate.’ Gerard watched her small white teeth bite upon her bottom lip. ‘I’ve been told that your father has tripled the purse.’

  The laughter left her eyes. ‘That’s ridiculous. You’ve already claimed your rights as my husband, besides… ‘ Her eyelashes fluttered gently, and the amusement returned. ‘I know I’m unworldly, but surely my favors cannot be worth so much.’

  ‘They are priceless to me.’ He gave her a grin, then frowned as he saw the error he’d made on the board. ‘The marquis has convinced himself you would be repugnant to me, I believe. I don’t like the thought of you being subject to the attention of every rake in town, but I cannot challenge them all.’

  ‘If you claim the purse, you will not have to.’

  Her queen found an unassailable opening and he capitulated. The notion she’d put forward was so startling it had robbed him of breath, as well as his wits. A grin flirted at the corner of his mouth as the idea took root. ‘You have a devious mind, My Lady.’

  ‘Not as devious as yours, I hope.’ Her smile was seductive as her eyes drifted up to meet his, her voice breathless with anticipation.

  ‘Oh?’ He met her mischievous gaze with feigned puzzlement.

  ‘A pedlar came to the door when you were out. I… I bought you a gift.’ Her composure cracked and she blushed. ‘It’s behind your cushion.’

  Two seconds later he gazed at the silk cords in his hands, grinning as he remembered the episode in the pavilion and the promise he’d made that day. Never dreaming she’d be so compliant to his wishes, he gazed at her in delighted surprise, made a couple of loops, then leaned forward and placed them around her wrists.

  ‘I’m quite agreeable to playing games,’ he whispered, tightening them, as with a show of delightf
ul reluctance she rose to her feet. ‘Come, Willow. I’ll teach you what desire is all about. I think you’ll enjoy this lesson.’

  ‘You will not hurt me,’ she whispered, laying her head against his shoulder in sudden supplication.

  It was all part of the game. ‘Not if you submit to my wishes,’ he assured her.

  She would submit, and enjoy her submission. He had no intention of allowing her to do otherwise, and she didn’t expect it.

  Chapter Eleven

  The marquis had not heard that his daughter and her husband were in London, nor had he issued an invitation for them to attend his assembly. When they advanced into the salon his eyes narrowed speculatively and the momentary lull in the conversation was followed by an excited buzz of talk.

  Pocketing his winnings, Charles Addison detached himself from the gaming tables and hurried forward to greet his friend. ‘Had I known you were in London I would have called upon you.’ His glance swept admiringly over Willow. ‘Your bride is exquisite. Her bone structure’s superb.’

  ‘Ever the doctor, Charles.’ Though he laughed, Gerard’s eyes were watchful. ‘Can you never look at a woman without commenting on some part of her anatomical makeup?’

  ‘You know I can, but with this one, I have the feeling you’d call me out.’

  ‘You could be right.’ His glance lazily roved around the salon to search for people he was acquainted with. There were several who could be counted on as friends. His glance sharpened on Simon Carswell, who was staring openly at Willow. His exploits included the drunken rape of a young seamstress in France, and the murder of the father who’d tried to defend her. His companion was a cur of a man who feasted on his leftovers. Both were in debt to the marquis, and hung about him like fawning dogs.

  ‘I’ve heard rumors, Charles. Are they true?’

  Charles knew exactly to what he referred. He gazed warningly at him.

  Gerard’s mouth creased in a suggestion of a smile. ‘Lady Sommersley is aware that her father makes sport of her.’