Daughter of Darkness (25 page)

‘You’re too perfect,’ he growled. ‘I prefer you in a chemise with your hair about your waist.’

Color crept under her skin. A self-conscious smile flitted across her lips, then faded when her eyes engaged his. ‘I’ve not thanked you for the gift, Gerard.’ Placing a perfumed hand each side of his face, she guided it down to hers to be kissed. Surprisingly, she made a thorough job of it. She learned fast.

Annie Tupworthy was appreciative of the visit by the Viscount and his wife, but embarrassed that her shortage of staff meant she was unable to entertain them properly.

‘We’re not here to be entertained,’ Gerard said, noticing her distress. ‘We’re here to inquire after your welfare and that of your son. The loss of your husband must have come as a shock. If there’s anything I can do to help, please feel free to ask. I’ll put my clerk at your disposal and he can sort out your husband’s business affairs, perhaps?’

‘Thank you, My Lord. I’d be most grateful for the help.’

‘Carlisle is so handsome.’ Willow was bending over the crib making soft, cooing sounds. ‘Gerard, do come and see him.’

The daughter of the house was a pretty child of about five, Her quiet demeanour and good manners were a credit to her mother. She gave him a shy smile, then giggled when he tickled her under the chin. He grinned at her, enchanted by her petite perfection. Having a daughter would not be too bad, if this little maid was anything to go by. He made the appropriate noises whilst he did what was expected of him. The infant boy resembled a skinned rabbit. Milk dribbled from the corner of his pursed up mouth and his blotchy face seemed screwed into a permanent frown. No wonder the child frowned, he thought, feeling sympathy for him. He was bound from shoulders to toe in a piece of linen, and couldn’t move anything except his head. Willow seemed enamored by the infant. When the nurse gave in to her pleading and placed the infant in her arms, she promptly cuddled him against her breast and covered his face in kisses.

He pictured their own son snuggled against her, and experienced a strange contentment. She would be a good mother. He must get her with child as soon as possible. It might take her mind off the village orphans. The issue was fast becoming a bone of contention between them. She refused to admit her scheme to fund an orphanage was unworkable. Her capital could not support it long term, and he wasn’t prepared to squander any of the Lytton funds until the estate was making a profit again. That could take several years.

‘Is there anything you need?’ she inquired, before they took their leave. She’d brought a basket of preserves and some early daffodils she’d picked from the garden.

‘I’m in need of a young woman who can act as both maid and companion to my daughter. If you hear of one I should be most obliged.’ Annie hesitated before adding. ‘I would also be honored if you would stand as godparents to Carlisle. We are quite alone in the world, so I have no relatives to sponsor him.’ There was a quiet resignation in her tone, as though she expected to be turned down.

‘We would be honored.’

Willow tried to keep the astonishment from showing in her face at Gerard’ s acceptance. ‘You must call on my wife when you’re fully recovered and bring your charming daughter to visit. No doubt our ward would enjoy having someone his own age for company.’

Edward!
On the way back to Lytton, Willow couldn’t help wondering why he’d suddenly mentioned Edward. He’d hardly acknowledged the boy’s existence up until now, except to tell her that Daphne had written to say she was unwell, and had requested he be kept at Lytton indefinitely.

Edward rarely asked about his mother now. He’d become part of the family, and was kept so busy with his various activities he didn’t have time to fret. The country air had brought a healthy bloom to his cheeks, and he was growing into a sturdy, outgoing child.

Willow was pleased Edward was staying at Lytton, but wondered at an illness so debilitating as to keep a mother from her child. Only death would part her and her children when she had them. She’d recently captured a likeness of Edward on paper, and intended to send it to Daphne when the opportunity presented itself. About to ask him what ailed Daphne, she caught his glance on her face. His eyes were lazily soft. When he smiled she was acutely aware how sensuous the curves of his mouth were. She took a quick intake of breath, overcome by a sudden craving to be kissed by that mouth. Her craving seemed to be reciprocated, for he growled deep in his throat.

‘Come here, wife.’

He was still kissing her when the coachman guided the carriage to a halt outside the entrance to Lytton.

‘Edward is renounced as your heir!’ Daphne stared at the marquis in disbelief. ‘Are you mad?’

‘On the contrary, my dear.’ The voice of the marquis was silky smooth. ‘I have lodged an official disclaimer with my lawyer stating my reasons. You will countersign this paper, acknowledging the validity of my action.’

‘But why?’ A spasm of coughing wracked Daphne. Her voice was weaker when she’d finished. She gave the man she loathed a tenuous smile. ‘There’s no one else who bears your name. This is one of your cruel jests, yes? You said you loved me, asked me to become your wife.’

‘And you refused.’ The marquis yawned, but his eyes glinted meanly in their sockets as he gave a carelessly, callous smile. ‘I admit your games kept me amused longer than most. When you were young and willing to please I’d have given you anything. Yet it pleased you to spurn the protection I offered you. I will not ask again.’

‘I ceased to be young the day you married my mother,’ Daphne said bitterly. ‘Did you really think I’d place Sheronwood Estate, and the welfare of my son in your grasping hands?’

Leaning forward, the marquis breathed in her ear. ‘You attempted to cheat me. Edward has no Lynchcross blood in his veins.’

Daphne gave a shocked start. So he knew? How had he found out? ‘You’ll need proof before you can disinherit Edward.’ Her smile became mocking as she stared up at him. ‘People will say you’re piqued because your effeminate nephew achieved what you could not.’ She choked out a laugh. ‘I’ll tell them the marquis is cruel to children.’ Her voice was cut off when a hand slid round her throat and tightened about her windpipe.

‘They will not take the word of a diseased courtesan like you.’ His eyes had glazed over. Fear struck her like a poisoned arrow when he whispered almost to himself. ‘I have signed confessions from the apothecary and two male servants formerly in your employ. They’ve sworn you poisoned your husband with belladonna, Madam.’ He thrust a parchment on to the table and placed a quill in her trembling fingers. ‘Sign it, else you’ll be charged with murdering your husband.’

‘Eduard was made insane by disease,’ she whispered, staring at him with fearful eyes. ‘It was you who instructed the apothecary to prescribe the fatal dose.’

‘You’ll never be able prove it.’ When his fingers tightened, she scrambled to comply with his demand. He twisted her neck towards him when her signature was scrawled across the document, and tearing the pen from her hand, flung it aside. ‘Eduard kept a journal, which has lately come into my possession. The pale, pitiless eyes focusing on hers were full of hate. ‘Eduard was incapable of being a husband to you. He suspected your child was fathered by Gerard Lytton. For that, I’ll have the life of your son.’

‘It’s not true,’ she managed to rasp against the throttling hand. Fear leaped into her throat, bringing a salty taste. ‘Do not kill Edward, I beg you. He’s protected by the King.’

‘I have another fate in mind for your son, madam.’ Placing his mouth close to her ear, he poured into it his vile plan for Edward.

Her eyes snapped open in horror before he closed off her air completely. A welcoming blackness descended on her.

‘After that, I’ll slit the throat of the man who planted his vile seed in your womb and plotted to take what’s mine,’ the marquis muttered, throwing her body aside. Daphne’s maid gave a squeal of fright when she entered the chamber and saw her mistress lying on the floor.

‘Your mistress has collapsed,’ he snapped. Picking up the paper he strutted to the door. ‘Attend to her.’

In the depths of her crystal Willow could see nothing but a reflection of her face. She’d concentrated on the shining sphere for what seemed like hours. Her eyes were tired, her head beginning to ache. Sapphire had been convinced she had the gift to see in the crystal, but the effort fatigued her.

She allowed her mind to drift to other thoughts. She enjoyed the company of Sapphire, for apart from Lady Edwina, no woman had ever taken an interest in her before. With Sapphire, she could relax. She’d found herself telling Sapphire about her upbringing at Coringal, and her treatment at the hands of her father. Then she’d told her of her forced marriage to Gerard, her love for Lytton House, and the happiness and sense of belonging she’d found within its walls. Sapphire offered understanding without censorship. Relaxed in her presence, it had become a habit to confide the little things that worried her, and those which brought her pleasure. Some inner part of her seemed to have always known the woman.

A faint ringing sound from the crystal drew her attention. ‘How can this be?’ she whispered, intrigued by the phenomenon. In the depths of a crystal the shape of a great house appeared. The house was of French design, with formal gardens interspersed with neat pathways. There was a fountain below a terrace, a naked nymph with water gushing from an urn held above her head. She could hear the water cascading into the bowl.

On a seat by the fountain sat a girl of about twelve. She had a wooden doll in her hand and was attended by a governess. As she watched, a woman came through the opened windows of the house and ran towards the child. She was being pursued by three men and was crying out in terror.

Bella slipped unseen from the room and hurried to her mistress, her eyes wide with excitement.

Two of the men dragged the woman away, knocking the governess to the ground. The girl was crying when the third man took her hand and led her away. She kept turning to look at her mother, who was struggling in the grip of the other two men.

Willow could feel the child’s terror, and her breath came in short anguished gasps. There was something familiar about the people. She leaned closer. One man was her father, though of more youthful appearance. The girl… ? Her face became thoughtful when the scene abruptly became mist. She’d only caught a glimpse of the child’s face, but she could have sworn it was Sapphire… or herself?

Turning her face to the mirror, she gazed at her own reflection before that of the child faded from her mind, then drew her sketching pad towards her. When she’d finished recording the scene she’d witnessed, she rose to her feet and made her way to Lady Edwina’s room.

‘What is it, child?’ Edwina was just about to take tea, and sent her maid to fetch another cup. ‘You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘You think I need a reason to visit you, Grandmother?’

‘Undoubtedly.’ Edwina chuckled. ‘Your husband seems to demand more of your presence every day.’ The delicate blush staining Willow’s cheeks didn’t escape her notice. ‘You find Gerard to be an agreeable husband, yes?’

‘He’s not offensive to me.’

The casual shrug Willow gave brought Edwina’s ire up.
Not offensive?
The chit was hard to please if that was all she could find to say about her husband. ‘Stop twitching, child,’ she snapped. ‘A lady must appear elegant at all times.’

‘Pray do not chastise me, Grandmother,’ she pleaded. ‘I’m troubled. I need your advice, not your condemnation.’

‘Troubled, my dear?’ Taking Willow’s hands in hers, she dismissed her maid. ‘I’ll do what I can to advise you, but if it is a marital problem I cannot interfere.’

‘Marital problem?’ She gazed at Edwina uncomprehendingly. ‘I have no marital problems.’ She thrust the drawing into her hands. ‘Something strange is happening, which concerns my mother. It’s imperative I discover the circumstances of her childhood.’

Edwina glanced at the drawing, but made no sense of it. Was Willow sensitive, like her mother? Had she picked up something from Marietta’s past? With sinking heart, she stammered. ‘I’m afraid I cannot help you, child.’

‘I’m no longer a child.’ Willow’s chin lifted in the determined manner Edwina knew so well as she retrieved the sketch. ‘If you cannot help, I’ll be forced to write to my father. She was his ward before their marriage.’

‘Wait!’ Edwina cried out as Willow rose from the chair and prepared to leave. She knew the marquis would only seek to slander Marietta, if he condescended to answer at all. ‘You’ll give me a little time to think about this?’

‘Of course.’ Bending to kiss the woman, Willow turned the kiss into a hug and whispered with great emotion and longing in her voice. ‘I suspect my mother is still alive.’

Edwina’s heart lunged in dismay. How long had she harbored this suspicion, and had she any inkling who her mother was? Hands shaking, she untangled herself from Willow’s hug and poured tea from the ornate silver teapot. She waited until Willow had composed herself, then handed her a dainty porcelain cup and saucer edged with gold. It was part of a Meissen tea service, a birthday gift from Gerard several years before. Edwina was exceedingly fond of it and used it only on special occasions.

‘Some stones are best left unturned,’ was the only counsel she could think to give Willow. As she watched her take a sip of the tea she endeavored to draw the subject away from Marietta. ‘Be careful with that cup, Willow dear. This tea service was a gift from Gerard. I only use it on special occasions.’

Willow gazed at it in silence, then back at her with a query in her eyes.

‘It would be my daughter’s birthday, had she lived.’

Willow had almost forgotten the existence of the woman whose place she’d taken as mistress. She found it hard to relate the embittered Lady Caroline to either of her sons, or to Lady Edwina as her mother. Caroline Lytton had been mistress of this house, she’d breathed the same air, had been wife to the earl and suffered in childbirth to bear him sons. Her portrait hung in the gallery with the other countesses. A portrait of Ambrose hung next to her. Whether by accident or design, they’d been hung with their faces gazing away from each other.