Authors: Madeline Hunter

Tags: #Historical romance, #Fiction

Dangerous in Diamonds (42 page)

BOOK: Dangerous in Diamonds

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“When did you become Mrs. Joyes?”

“When I first joined Margaret. It was obvious soon that I was with child. I became a war widow, since there were enough in England that one more was not notable. When I approached Becksbridge again, I let him believe I had married Captain Joyes, only to lose him soon in the war. I hoped that after the duke died, if Latham should see any documents with Mrs. Joyes’s name, he would never guess it was me. I never thought to find myself near London again. I had hoped he would give me property near Margaret and Estelle. Instead, he gave me this.” She gestured to the land they now walked.

“So you lived here and waited for old Becksbridge to die.”

“I both waited for it and dreaded it. If he settled the land on me the way he had implied, and if Latham remained in France since he seemed to prefer it there, I could bring Estelle to live here, and all would be well.”

“Instead he gave the land to me, and Latham returned to England.”

“Yes.”

He drew her into his arms, as he had been wanting to do since he saw her up the lane by her house. As he had been needing to do for three weeks of separation from her.

“You are not to worry any longer. If he is fool enough to return to England and learns of her, you will not be a woman alone fighting him. He will not dare hurt you through the child, because, if he tries, I will certainly kill him this time.”

Her smile trembled. “I will be sure to remember that, Your Grace, and inform you should I even learn he is aware of her. It will be good to be in fear no longer.”

She did not understand what he meant. Or, perhaps she chose not to hear it.

“Daphne, I have spent three weeks—more actually—trying to understand why a sensible woman would refuse the chance to become a duchess.”

“Did you conclude such a woman must be mad, and that was all there was to it?”

He laughed. “That was one possibility. Then I thought, what if this woman is not mad? What if she is most sane? What if she assumes that this duke who proposes—”

“I do not want to interrupt, but officially no duke proposed to this woman.”

He looked to heaven for patience. “A small detail.”

“Only to a duke. But please go on.”

“What if she assumes that this duke will continue his wicked ways, as if he were not married at all? There are some women who would not mind, who might even welcome that he occupy himself elsewhere. Then there are women who would not want to use the same bed where he had been with others before her.”

“No doubt you thought that mad too.”

He lifted her chin and kissed her lips lightly. “At first, perhaps. On second and third thought, I found it flattering. Charming. Perhaps—loving.”

She flushed and averted her eyes. He tucked her arm around his and slowly paced back up the lane. “As I rode here, I debated what I could say to you to prove that I did not only see penance in that marriage offer. It occurred to me that I could admit that I have been with no other woman since we met.”

Her head snapped around and she gaped at him in shock. He had to laugh. “Hell of a thing, isn’t it? I’ll try to explain why someday, but it is the truth. I am sure that I can give up that part of being bad now, if I married the right woman. She would have to agree to let me be bad with her instead, of course.”

“How bad?”

“Very bad, I’m afraid.”

She did not object or try to negotiate further. That was an encouraging sign.

“Then it entered my head that if a woman knew she was going to arrange the dramatic exposure of an evil man but expose herself too in the process, she might, if she were a kind and thoughtful woman, think it best not to marry a man who was not aware such scandal would surround her soon.”

“You cannot deny there is sound logic if this woman thought this way. It would not be honest to—”

“I do not care if the world knows about you and Latham, Daphne.”

“You will. When you turn your attention to those boring duties that you loathe but execute so well, you will regret—”

“Today is Tuesday, and I tell you I do not care.”

She appeared startled and a little frightened. He drew her to the side of the lane. “After all this hard thinking, however, I realized there might be one more reason you would not consider me. I have never told you that you have stolen my heart, have I?”

“No, Your Grace. You have not.” She looked down. Those two pink flags marked her cheeks and darkened. “It would be very hard to be with you and love you as I do if you did not love me, Castleford. A woman would have to be very greedy to become a duchess under such circumstances. All the jewels in the world would not ease that hurt, you see.”

“There is no danger of that, Daphne. If I did not know for sure before, these last three weeks of hell have made it clear enough. I have missed you badly, and I came here today to tell you so. You have indeed stolen my heart, and I do not mind at all.”

She sniffed. He thought it very sweet that she was overcome with emotion. She sniffed again and wiped her eye with her hand. “So are you going to propose officially?”

“Certainly, if you desire it.”

“I think I would like you to, if you do not mind.”

He took her hands in his. “Well, at least you are not insisting that I get on my knees.”

She looked at him, and her unshed tears of joy made tiny diamonds in her eyes. “Actually, that would be very nice too.”

He looked around. He doubted they were visible from the house. He eased down onto his knees. “You must tell no one. It will ruin me.”

She laughed and cried. She bent to kiss his cheek.

“Daphne, will you be my wife, so the love we have for each other can blossom like the flowers in your greenhouse?”

She bit her lower lip, then opened her mouth to respond. However, no words came, and her expression fell. She looked toward the house.

“There was one more reason for that sensible woman to refuse to marry a duke, Castleford. Estelle. Everyone will know whose child she is. And I know how you hate him.” Her brow furrowed from her distress. “I could leave her at The Rarest Blooms, I suppose. I would see her often, but—” She gazed down at him with an expression too close to sad regret. “I have waited so long to have her with me.”

“I may hate him, but I do not hate the child.” He got to his feet. “You can say she is Captain Joyes’s child if you want. You can say she is Latham’s. Do it however you want. As for having her with you, there is certainly room. You might have noticed that I have very big houses.” He pulled her into his arms. “I love you. Stop thinking of reasons not to marry me and say that you will.”

She looked up and touched his face. While he watched, the most beautiful expression claimed her face. No high emotion and no blush but no defenses either. Just Daphne, her pure self, as open and vulnerable as he had ever seen her.

“Yes I will. I will marry you, Castleford.”

He kissed her, moved by her beauty and her exquisite self and her rashness in loving him. He swore to himself that while he might never be more than almost half-reformed, he would never do anything to make her unhappy with this decision.

He took her hand and they walked up the lane.

“When shall we do it?” she asked.

“Why not today? I can go to Cumberworth for the vicar. I have a special license with me.”

“You obtained a special license before riding down? That was a little conceited of you.”

“Not conceited, darling. Enterprising. Desperately hopeful. We can use The Rarest Blooms for our wedding party, and your friends can be our witnesses.”

“That would be very appropriate, I think. I would not want anything more. Yes, let us do it that way, in the garden.”

He stopped short, as he remembered something. “Speaking of rarest blooms, I hope it isn’t ruined.”

He strode to his horse and plucked a wooden box out of the bag there. He peered inside. “All is well. After riding twenty miles in each direction for it, I would not want it wilted before you saw it.”

Daphne came close to the horse and looked over his arm. “What is it?”

“Exquisite transience. A flower like none other, procured from the only man in England who I am told has the plant.” He opened the box.

Her eyes widened in wonder. Even jewels had not impressed her like this.

“It is an orchid,” he said.

“I know what it is.” She lifted it carefully. “I have seen drawings of it, from when it bloomed last year. How did you get this?”

“I heard it had bloomed again, so I went and asked that fellow Cattley to sell me one flower. It did not cost quite as much as the diamonds.”

She lifted the flower and sniffed its scent. While she admired it, he looked at the house. The women had come out. They stood clustered near the door, watching her. Those who had lived here in the past and those who would live in Surrey in the future mingled together while Daphne remained entranced by the gift.

She stretched up and kissed him. The little group at the door broke out in claps and undignified hoots and calls.

Daphne looked back at them and laughed, then returned to her astonishment over the orchid. “You amaze me, Castleford. You have actually found the rarest bloom in England.”

He looked at her. “Yes, my love. I believe that I have.”

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