“Where in bloody hell is my nephew.”
Seated in his office poring over the paperwork his man-of-affairs had brought ’round earlier that morning, Daniel sighed and closed the books. He’d learned long ago the nature of that tone. And also the reason for unexpected visits. He picked his head up just as Tanner opened the door, revealing his uncle. “His Lord—”
“No need for introductions,” Lord Claremont commanded, brandishing a newspaper. “The boy knows who I am,” he said, stalking forward. “Get out,” he ordered, not looking back.
Tanner quickly pulled the door shut, leaving them alone.
“Uncle,” Daniel drawled. “To what do I owe the—?”
“Stuff it, boy,” he bellowed, jabbing the gossip columns in his hand. “This isn’t a social visit,” he thundered, as he settled his large frame into the chair opposite Daniel’s desk. The viscount hurled the paper across the desk and it whacked Daniel in the chest, falling with a noisy thump atop his ledgers.
Daniel shoved them from his work. He didn’t need to look at those pages to know the words stamped in ink there. Just as words of his actions at White’s had been whispered about in his ballroom last evening and printed on every paper to land on lords and ladies’ breakfast tables that morning. His uncle stared furiously back and Daniel winged a single eyebrow up, tauntingly.
The viscount leaned forward and thumped the desk hard with the flat of his hand. “I told you no scandals.” His uncle pursed his mouth. “And you burn down White’s?” An act that had seen Daniel’s membership forever revoked to that great, estimable club.
Reclining in his seat, he kicked his heels up on the edge of his desk. “Bah. By the papers reporting, it was just a table and some carpeting,” he said in mocking tones that sent his uncle’s brow lowering. But he would have unrepentantly set the entire club ablaze for the ugly wagers placed on Daphne. Fury thrummed inside him all over again.
His uncle lingered his gaze on the soles of Daniel’s boots. “Everything has always been a game with you.”
“Yes,” he conceded, his agreement only a half-truth. Since the passing of his mother and brother that had been the state Daniel had allowed himself to live in. Until now. Nay, until Daphne. She’d challenged that rakish existence and forced him to truly look at the life he lived…and reminded him of how it once had been.
Lord Claremont peered at him. “You do not care what this means for your eight thousand pounds?”
The muscles of his belly clenched. Yes, he had. Seeing the stories printed in the papers, Daniel had well known what it portended.
“You’ll have to marry an heiress or sell the remaining unentailed properties you have,” his uncle said, plucking the very thoughts from Daniel’s head.
And where saddling himself with an equally cold and ruthless heiress would have been the only path he wished to travel, now it left him feeling sick inside. “I’ve options,” he said, forcing a bored yawn. Options, which included stretching his finances and dipping his toes in trade, which he should have and could have done years earlier. All that had once failed to matter, now did.
“I might have forgiven the scandal at White’s,” his uncle said, with a grunt. “But I cannot forgive you two.”
Daniel looked back perplexedly.
Reaching inside his jacket, Lord Claremont withdrew a thick folded note and tossed it down on Daniel’s desk. “Here.”
Picking it up, he unfolded the page and his stomach sank. The words blurred together and he forced them into focus, reading the damning note signed by Tennyson.
“You need to pick better friends,” his uncle mocked.
Bile climbed in his throat and stung like acid. He’d told Tennyson everything about his uncle’s requirements and, as such, he’d neatly, if inadvertently, handed over the perfect revenge. Tennyson’s reputation in deflowering an innocent all those years ago would never be revealed and ruin his prospects with an heiress. But Daniel’s uncle would know and the funds promised would go up in flame more easily than that page at White’s. Daniel briefly closed his eyes.
“He’s not a friend,” he said tightly, carefully refolding the sheet. He tossed it back to his uncle who caught it with two hands. There had only ever been one true friend, who’d known everything about who he was, and who he’d wished to be in life, and ultimately who he’d become.
Lord Claremont snorted as he tucked the page back inside his jacket. “Then you should use greater discretion in what you bandy about to enemies.”
“Tennyson deserved a beating.” The lady had been deceived by a scoundrel and for that act that had shattered her heart and innocence, his uncle and Polite Society would hang her upon a cross and turn the proverbial cheek on the man responsible for those crimes.
“I do not disagree with you there. Never liked his father, either. Pompous bastard.” His uncle lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Nonetheless, the lady was ruined by him.”
The lady was ruined by him…
The lady was also the same girl who’d skipped stones beside him in a lake. Who, despite the struggle presented by her leg, walked to Mrs. Belden’s for a post and then marched all the way to his estate to spare his sister hurt. At every score, she’d boldly challenged the existence he’d lived. And with her worth, she was far better than the whole of the peerage rolled into one.
His uncle spoke, slashing into his thoughts. “I’ll allow you one more opportunity to earn the eight thousand pounds.” He folded his hands and dropped the interlocked digits on his belly.
“You wish us to wed?” He started, his own surprise reflected in the viscount’s eyes. Where had that question come from? And why, with each passing moment, did the possibility of being joined to Daphne fill him with this lightness.
“See you wed?” His uncle gave his head a bemused shake. “Quite the opposite.”
Daniel eyed his uncle with a wariness that came from too many lectures and games from this man over the years.
“I want her out,” his uncle said quietly. His usual rancor was gone, the solemnity in its place far more threatening.
Daniel’s body turned to stone. “What?”
“Your Miss Smith,” his uncle clarified. “If Tennyson breathes a hint of a word about her scandal, your sister’s virtue will be called into question. I’ll not have Alice’s reputation compromised.”
Turn Daphne out. Send her on her way with the references, as she’d asked for not even a day ago. Where she’d return to the country and that would be the last he saw of Daphne Smith. He curled his hands. “I cannot,” he said quietly, firming his mouth.
His uncle drummed his pinky fingers together. “For eight thousand pounds, a man can do anything,” He looked at him meaningfully. “Particularly a bounder like you.”
Almost three weeks ago, Daniel would have sold his soul to the Devil for even a chance at the monies promised him by his uncle. Funds that would see his debts paid and able to resume his wicked pursuits.
“Well, what is it going to be, boy?”
Seated in the parlor with Colebrooke’s work on her lap, Daphne attended that German translation because it was a good deal easier than noting the stack of gossip columns littering the rose-inlaid table.
“Oh, dear.” Alas, her charge made the task impossible. “Have you read this, Miss Smith?” Alice called, forcing her attention to the girl. A copy of The Times in her hand, Alice stared questioningly back.
“I…” Had read them when they’d arrived and had been battling a constant state of nausea since.
“This cannot be good for Daniel,” Alice muttered, no answer clearly required from her. She tossed down the reputable paper and picked up one of the more scandalous sheets. The girl’s eyes formed moons and she gasped. “They say he burned down White’s.”
“I’m certain he did not burn down the whole of White’s,” she said, with a conviction she did not feel. But still, surely the reporting from The Times about the fate of that distinguished club would not prove erroneous.
“And he beat Lord Tennyson.” Alice made a tsking sound with her tongue.
Oh, God. Her stomach muscles knotted. Forcing her intent gaze away from her book, Daphne stole a peek at Alice. Did the girl suspect…? Finding her attention solely diverted on those gossip sheets, Daphne struggled for calm.
Alice hurled down the paper and reached for another. “I venture I know the reason for the dispute.” By the accounting in the papers, it had been a violent beating that had seen the man escorted home by several other gentlemen. Daphne, however, wouldn’t contradict the girl her word choice. Alice nibbled at her nail. “Do you suppose it was over a wager?”
Of course, Alice could never begin to suspect the truth. Daphne forced her tone into a semblance of calm. “I couldn’t begin to suspect the merits of their argument,” she lied and guilt assailed her. For she well-knew the reason for that beating doled out and the burning of that page in the White’s betting book, and now…the inevitable forfeiture of the funds promised him by his uncle.
Daphne closed her eyes a moment. I am going to be ill. Why would he do this? A true rake would not have found fault with Lord Tennyson’s actions in those long ago days and a true rake certainly wouldn’t have taken him to task for it eleven years after the fact. With her charge prattling on about the scandal of the Season, as it had been marked in papers, she opened her eyes. She took in the details so very telling about this family’s circumstances: the fraying brocaded curtains. The pulls in the fabric of the upholstery. The bright paint bearing the imprint of frames, from where portraits once hung. All testaments to Daniel and Alice’s need for funds.
If he had not already been disqualified from the terms laid forth by his uncle, Daphne still only served as an impediment between him and his eight thousand pounds. Once, she had been a naïve girl with an optimistic view of the world. She was a woman grown now and, as such, she accepted the truth—there could never be love with Daniel. He’d stated as much too many times now for her to even hope. Her heart twisted.
There had always been friendship, however. The scandal pages had detailed his violent beating of Lord Tennyson, proving once more Daniel’s loyalty and regard as a friend.
It was all she would ever have from him.
But in humiliating the marquess, as long as Daphne remained in London, she’d serve as a potential pawn for that dastard. She could not, nay would not, allow him to use her against the Winterbournes.
Coward that she was, she wished to go, without ever having a goodbye with Daniel’s sister who’d come to mean so much to her. Before her courage deserted her, she spoke quickly. “I must leave.”
Alice stopped speaking mid-sentence and tipped her head. “Would you like company?” she asked perplexedly, starting to rise.
Daphne stayed her. Having been an only child, there had been a dearth of friendship or companionship, particularly when Daniel had been away at school. How I am going to miss this family. She took a slow breath. “I must leave my post here,” she clarified.
Alice’s smile fell. “What?” she blurted. “You mustn’t do anything. Unless you wish to, but you did not allude to as much. Which leads me to believe you feel you have to.”
With her quick-wit, Lady Alice missed nothing.
Daphne curled her toes into the soles of her slippers. How to go about explaining to an innocent the circumstances of Daphne’s past? With the same impressive fortitude as her brother, Alice met Daphne’s gaze squarely, a demonstration of the girl’s strength and directness. Yes, Alice deserved some explanation. “I have to leave,” she repeated. “There is, was a situation that makes it impossible for me to remain.”
Pursing her lips, the other lady folded her arms. “Does this have anything to do with my brother nearly burning down White’s and beating Lord Tennyson to a pulp?”
She swallowed hard. “I…”
Alice collected her hand. “You needn’t answer that, unless you wish.” Which at this moment, with this woman, she did not. Daniel’s sister went on. “I do not know what transpired that resulted in the scandal my brother brought about at White’s, but I have no doubt that Lord Tennyson deserved that beating.” She jutted out her chin. “And I also know my brother and I would never have you leave.” She paused. “For any reason. Unless you wished it.”
The young lady spoke with the innocence only a girl was capable of. For the world’s ill regard for the Winterbourne family, they’d been grossly wrong in their opinions. There was no more loyal pair than Daniel and his sister. “Thank you, Alice,” she said softly. Outside of her parents, Daphne had existed with nothing more than either disinterest or pity from Society and, yet, in these two she’d found people who saw the woman and not the disability. “I, however, would not forgive myself if I remained.” And ruined Alice’s future. No, Daphne could not repay their kindness with selfishness.
“But—”
“If you’ll excuse me, Alice?” she asked, shoving to her feet. “I must meet with His Lordship.” Daphne made a slow exit and started down the hall. She kept her gaze trained forward, purpose driving her footsteps. This was for the best. Now, mayhap if she told herself that enough, she could almost believe it. She reached his office and raised her hand to knock, when voices inside carried out into the hall, faintly muffled.
“…I am not turning her out…” Her stomach reflexively knotted at Daniel’s furious declaration and she borrowed support from the cane. I should go. I have no place listening at keyholes. Yet after stealing a glance about the empty hall, Daphne took a step closer and, as if she were a girl again, pressed her ear to the panel.
“What will you do for income without my funds, Daniel?” Lord Claremont’s bold challenge was met with silence.
“I’ll sell off—”
“You are running out of items to sell,” his uncle interjected. “And if you manage to see a return on any investments, it would still require the leniency of your creditors.”
A tense quiet stretched out into the corridor and Daphne held her breath so long her chest ached. She didn’t want the reminder of Daniel’s circumstances, which were a product of his lifestyle, these past years. Ones that merited an heiress or cooperation with his uncle’s terms. She touched her forehead to the door; the wood was cool on her heated skin.
“You have no choice, Daniel.” There was a finality to that pronouncement issued by the viscount. “There have already been whispers and rumors that you are bedding your sister’s companion. If Tennyson’s involvement with the lady comes to light, it will only cement those whispers.”
Of course, Lord Tennyson would have revealed her past.
Her throat worked and where once there had been shame at her folly, now she held her shoulders with stiff rigidity. Her mistake was hers and she owned it, but it only defined her as much as she allowed it. And if she remained in Daniel’s employ, it would be all anyone saw in her.
“If I marry her…” The remaining words were lost to the door panel and his lowered voice. She captured her lower lip between her teeth. Despite his uncle’s and Society’s ill opinions, Daniel was more than the rake he presented. He’d still, with the threats made by his uncle, offer his name, anyway. She fell even more in love with him. All of her heart would forever belong to him.
“If you marry her, you’ll never see a pound,” his uncle said bluntly. There was the shuffle of footsteps from within the room and heart in her throat, she staggered back. “We are done here.”
The door opened, leaving her exposed in the hallway with embarrassment burning a path from her feet to the roots of her hair.
The viscount looked at her, shock registering in his eyes. A dull flush mottled his cheeks and he yanked hard at his cravat.
“Daph…Miss Smith,” Daniel swiftly corrected, coming forward.
“My lord,” she greeted succinctly, managing a curtsy for the viscount. “Forgive me,” she said to Daniel. “There was, is a matter of import, I’d speak with you on.”
“Lord Claremont was just leaving,” he said tightly, stepping aside so she might enter.
His cheeks ruddy, the viscount dipped a bow. “Of course.” He fixed Daniel with a final stare. “I would have you think on what I said to you, boy.”
As soon as the viscount had taken his leave, Daniel pushed the door shut, closeting them away. They faced one another with an uncharacteristic silence hanging awkward between them. He spoke quietly. “I am sorry you had to hear that,” he said curtly.
She shook her head. “It is fine.” She’d not hold him accountable for his uncle’s opinions. “He didn’t speak anything that was not true, Daniel.” Surely he knew that?
By the white lines that formed at the corners of his tense lips, he did. “He can go to hell,” he said tightly, stalking over to his sideboard. He swiped the bottle closest to his fingertips and poured himself a tumbler of whiskey. “I’m not sending you away because he ordered it.” When he turned back, a muscle pulsed violently near his jaw.
“What of your funds?” she countered, taking a step toward him.
That muscle worked all the more. “I will find a way.” I always do. Those words hung in the air, as real as if they’d been spoken.
She closed her eyes as a slow, painful laugh bubbled past her lips. Daphne buried the sound in her fingers. “Oh, Daniel,” she murmured, joining him at the sideboard. “How confident you’ve always been. You’ve been that way since you were a boy. Sometimes, in life, there are no options. No matter what you do, your circumstances are your own.” Just as his financial state belonged to him, from a lifetime of dissolute living. “I have to go,” she said gently. “You know that.”
He jerked, as though she’d run him through. “Don’t leave.” There was a faint entreaty that ran all the way through her.
“Why do you want me to stay?”
Panic flared in his eyes and he searched about. Daphne came over to him in a soft whir of skirts. She touched her fingers to his lips. Silencing him. “I don’t care that the ton thinks me inferior because of my birthright and leg or even my damaged reputation. I don’t care how many pounds you have or don’t have to your name. I care about what you can’t give me.” She let her arm fall to her side. “I want love, Daniel. I always did. I’ll not settle for less.”
He pulled his hand free, a frantic light glinting in his eyes, and dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been a rake so long, I don’t know how to separate that from who I am. All I know is I do not want you to leave.” There was a hoarse desperation there that made her want to stay. For selfish reasons. To have him, in any way she could.
Yet, if she gave up on the offer made by the Marchioness of Guilford, just for a few fleeting months with Daniel, Daphne would lose all of herself.
She backed up a step. “If you defied your uncle and lost those funds, you would grow to resent me.” And that she would never be able to bear.
Pain sparked in his eyes. “You think so little of me,” he whispered.
“You misunderstand.” Daphne shook her head. “It is because I think so much of you that I’m leaving. You’ve offered me marriage, vowed to defy your uncle, without considering that, in doing so, you’d forfeit your future.” The opportunity to find love. And she was so very selfish and dark, because she despised the woman who would one day own his heart. “I was offered employment.”
His lips moved, but no words came out.
“The Marchioness of Guilford and I spoke. She offered me a post at her institution.” She paused. “And I am accepting it. For you and Alice.” Daphne drew in a breath. “And me, Daniel. I must do this for me. For eighteen years of my life, people have pitied me.”
“I have never pitied you.” That denial ripped harsh from his throat.
Her heart tugged. “No.” Then there had never been anyone in her life like Daniel. Her friend and one-time champion. The boy, then man who’d seen a woman of wit and strength, and had not imposed limitations upon her because of Society’s perception on perfection. “But there is only one reason for me to stay.” You. “And a thousand reasons for me to go. You told me that I am the same person here,” Daphne touched her fingertips to her head and then her heart. “I need to do this.”
Some indefinable emotion glinted in his eyes and then, much like the hardened gentleman whose foyer she’d stormed, he peeled his lip back in a sneer. “You’ll just leave, then. You,” he spat that word as a vile epithet, “who accused me of using alcohol as a crutch and hiding myself away, will run.”
His words found an unerring mark. She scrabbled with her skirts. “I am not running.”
“Bah,” he shot back, scraping the air with his hand. “You’re no different than I am. I may have become a rake to protect myself, but going to Lady Guilford’s, you’ll be protecting yourself from the world just the same.”
His words held her frozen and she pressed her eyes closed. In this moment, she hated him. Hated him for being right. But more, she hated herself for having a gift proffered by the marchioness and wanting more. For in all her weeks with Daniel and his sister, thoughts of Ladies of Hope had barely been a thought.
She forced her eyes open. Security at Lady Guilford’s institution was the next best dream Daphne could hope for. “Not every girl or woman like me has the advantage of believing in themselves or having someone like you who believes in them.” Love for this man filled every corner of her being. For Daniel had never treated her differently. Not as a girl with an intact limb and not as a woman with a disfigured leg. “I need to be there, Daniel,” she said softly, needing him to understand.
He tensed his shoulders. “Do you know what I believe?” He didn’t allow her a chance to respond. “You are using your purpose as a way to hide.” Had he been snapping and snarling, that challenge would have been less painful than his quiet rebuke.
Tears blurred her vision and, unable to meet Daniel’s defiant gaze, she stepped around him.
“Daphne, wait,” he entreated. For a fraction of a moment where hope dwelled, she thought he would give her the words that would keep her here. He dragged a hand through his hair. “I have spent so much time keeping the world out,” his voice emerged ragged. “I don’t know how to let anyone in…or how to feel.” His admission emerged as an apology.
She sucked in a shuddery breath. “I want it all, Daniel. Love, a family, a purpose outside of a proper household, and in the absence of those other dreams, I will take at least one of those dreams that is presented before me.” With his silence and her heart splintering apart inside her chest, Daphne left.