Dangerous in Diamonds (19 page)
He closed by writing that under no circumstance was Mrs. Joyes to be worried about this matter, lest she feel obliged to return home to brandish a pistol as well.
Trusting that he had averted the two disasters of Mr. Edwards being tried for murder and Mrs. Joyes departing London, Castleford then penned a letter to the lady herself.
He forced himself to add enough words to make it look gracious and not too brief. Then he informed her that he required her presence at another meeting regarding her property. Would she be good enough to indulge him and attend one tomorrow at five o’clock?
He sealed both letters and gave them to one of his valets. Content that his day’s work was done, he went back to bed.
A
hot August day has a way of burning through illusions. So it was that while Daphne woke the next morning still in a daze—due to shockingly explicit dreams involving her, Castleford, and a bed made out of a huge diamond—she felt very much her old self by the time she finished her breakfast. Decidedly so. Somewhat sadly so.
hot August day has a way of burning through illusions. So it was that while Daphne woke the next morning still in a daze—due to shockingly explicit dreams involving her, Castleford, and a bed made out of a huge diamond—she felt very much her old self by the time she finished her breakfast. Decidedly so. Somewhat sadly so.
Sitting in the late morning light pouring through her chamber window, she assessed what had happened the night before and spared herself not at all.
She had imbibed too much wine. She would like to claim Castleford had pressed it on her as part of his plot, but nevertheless, she had, of her own free will, drunk sufficiently to abandon all good sense.
True, a different man might have refused to take advantage of her condition, but this was Castleford, for heaven’s sake. It was a miracle he had not ravished her while she stood against that wall.
She could not ignore that, while he had unaccountably not ravished her, what he had done had convinced him that she was his to ravish in the future. That business about wearing diamond bobs and nothing else—it was not so much that he had said it but rather how he had said it. Calmly, frankly, as if it were inevitable. As if he had a right to her now.
When the mail arrived, she eagerly looked through it, hoping for a return letter from Margaret. Her spirits sagged when there was nothing from the north.
Perhaps she should just make that journey uninvited and hope for the best. She might have given Margaret pause by mentioning the past. This visit had become more of a necessity with each passing day to make sure that people dear to her were protected. The way emotions kept running higher about the trouble up there only increased her worry.
She flipped past two letters from writers she did not recognize. They appeared to be invitations. She wondered who would be inviting her to anything.
Then she found the letter from Castleford himself.
Very gracious, very polite, and containing only the barest allusion to last night’s intimacy (he had delighted in seeing her “freely enjoy her own high spirits” during the party), he finally mentioned that, by the by, they needed to meet tomorrow about her property.
She set the letter down and wondered how long it took a jeweler to make diamond ear bobs.
D
aphne went out later that morning to meet with one of the stewards who had written about contracting for plants. She did not return until one o’clock. Having concluded that she could not avoid the meeting with Castleford, she penned a response and told him she would attend. She politely declined the two invitations from hostesses whom she had never met. Then she wrote another note to Celia and sent it off too.
aphne went out later that morning to meet with one of the stewards who had written about contracting for plants. She did not return until one o’clock. Having concluded that she could not avoid the meeting with Castleford, she penned a response and told him she would attend. She politely declined the two invitations from hostesses whom she had never met. Then she wrote another note to Celia and sent it off too.
She was just sealing Celia’s letter when a footman arrived to announce that a caller waited below. No card had been sent up. Instead the footman bore a nosegay of yellow roses and a letter.
Ten minutes, no more, I promise
, was all the letter said. It was signed
Latham
.
, was all the letter said. It was signed
Latham
.
She set the flowers aside to wilt and contemplated this request for a visit. After debating it every which way, she decided she should discover what the man had on his mind. Not a pursuit, the way Castleford expected. She was almost certain of that. Even Latham could not be that conceited.
She found him below in the drawing room. During their greetings, she gave him a better examination than she had last night.
Nine years changed any person, but it particularly affected men if it spanned the end of their youth and the beginning of maturity. She noted that the slight softness in Latham’s face had ceased being the remnants of his boyhood and become instead the evidence of a man who indulged his appetites. Still, most women would find him attractive, even handsome, she admitted. They would also find his sedate dress and hair and his easy, amiable charm reassuring and comforting. Thus did wolves hide in sheep’s clothing.
“Miss Avonleah—excuse me, Mrs. Joyes now—I had to call.”
“How did you know where I was staying?”
“I had but to ask around. Society is aware of your visit in this house. I hope that you do not mind that I did ask and sought you out.”
“I am not pleased. Last night was unavoidable for me. This was not.”
He smiled politely, but merriment at her formality showed in his eyes. “Seeing you astonished me. I never thought I would again. Also, I confess it made me nostalgic for those years when I was much younger, and my father’s household was my second home still.”
Did he think that was humorous? Or, heaven forbid, that seeing him had made her nostalgic too? “It is your home completely now, so you can indulge your nostalgia daily. Will you be going down to the country again for that purpose?”
“I do not think so, not soon at least. I have been asked to stay in town. Liverpool thinks I may be needed.”
Already he had insinuated himself into the highest ranks of influence. She found that dismaying. Of course, he was a duke now. Probably all of them were needed in times of trouble, if they were of a mind to heed England’s call.
“I assume that Lord Liverpool has read your essays, if he favors you now.”
“He has read them. Have you? Did you find them at all inspiring or useful?”
“I found them humorous, coming from you. Let us not pretend that you do not know why.”
He acknowledged that he did know why with a vague bow of his head and a boyish smile that feigned a degree of chagrin. He probably thought that little gesture of embarrassment apology enough for his youthful sins.
She suspected he had practiced the expression in the looking glass for just those occasions when someone mentioned they knew a great deal more about him than he wanted remembered.
He did not appear inclined to say only a few words and then quickly leave. She in turn felt obligated to sit, so he could make it a proper call. Ten minutes the note had said. He would not get eleven.
“I was not aware that you had married, Daphne.”
She marked his change of tone. And the way he used her Christian name. And the way he looked at her. His attempt at intimacy was bold and insulting, but perhaps she should have expected it.
She remembered how he used to slyly flirt with her when he visited his father’s house. Being young and lonely, she had actually found that charming, even flattering. She later blamed herself for the kisses and intimacy that followed, but after years of doing so she had come to realize how dishonorably he had behaved. No one, not even she, would claim it had been like that poor scullery maid, of course. Her gentle birth had spared her that.
“It was commonly known in your father’s household that I married. Probably no one thought it worth mentioning to you.”
“I would have expected my father to do so.”
“Servants come and go, and their lives are not fodder for drawing room discussions.”
“You were not just a servant.”
“Actually, that was all I ever was. Your father and his wife indulged my pride in small ways, but in the end I was no better than a scullery maid to your family and would have received similar consideration in all things, if not for my connections to the county where you have your country estate.”
His smile fell at the comparison she used. His pale eyes lost more color. He speared her with a curious, almost cautious gaze.
“Do you still visit the county?” he asked. “I have not been back long enough to call on any of the old families.”
“I correspond with a few of them.” She told him some of the events in those lives from the last few years. She made sure he understood that the daughter of one of that county’s gentlemen would still be heard and received by some of Becksbridge’s neighbors.
He listened as if she made small talk, but she trusted she had made her point. When she was done, he smiled in a too-familiar way, as if he had not understood her meaning at all.
“You are so formal now,” he said. “Not the happy girl I remember. I confess that I was hoping last night’s coolness was only surprise at work. And discretion.”
His boldness astonished her. “I am happy enough, but no longer a girl. No longer ignorant of the world. No longer innocent and not nearly so trusting.”
“That is perhaps for the best. And as a widow, you understand what men are about now, don’t you?”
She could hardly believe her ears. She worried that he was going to fulfill Castleford’s prediction and say something stupid now, and that this inappropriate turn in the conversation might be the prelude to a proposition. Surely he could not be that much a rogue.
“Yes, whether they are honorable or not, I know what men are about. Just as I know about the protection that privilege gives some men, if they are such scoundrels as to exploit their stations.”
He looked at her, not pleased and, she hoped, at least a bit concerned. She looked right back. She wanted him to know that she now understood what
he
was about. She wanted him to worry that she might share it with others.
he
was about. She wanted him to worry that she might share it with others.
“Will you be in town long?” he asked.
“A week or so, no more.”
“Then you will return to . . .” It became a question.
She chose to let his words dangle there.
Silence ensued. He finally gathered his gloves and hat and took his leave.
“I am sure that I will see you again before you go down to the country,” he said on departing. “You may not believe this, but I have thought of you often over the years.”
She watched the drawing room door close behind him, then released in a long exhale the emotions she had been holding inside her. What a horrible man, not to have the decency to stay away from her.
“Y
ou are creating a spectacle,” Hawkeswell said. “It will be the talk of the clubs and coffee shops all day.”
ou are creating a spectacle,” Hawkeswell said. “It will be the talk of the clubs and coffee shops all day.”
“I assumed they were all staring at you,” Castleford replied.
Actually, he assumed nothing of the kind. The reactions as they rode their horses down Bond Street beneath the late morning sun could not be missed, and it was obvious which gentleman was causing the surprise.
People he knew well and others he barely recognized actually stopped their horses and feet to watch him. A few women in a passing carriage were so rude as to point out the window in his direction while they exclaimed over his presence. One would think the prince regent was riding by stark naked, from the attention sent his way.
“They can all go to hell,” he said. “If I want to be up and about town at this hour, that is my business. This gawking only proves my long-held opinion that most people are small-minded fools.”
It also proved that Daphne Joyes was ruining him, and he had better put an end to it. After all, he was riding about town at this hour because he had discovered that being in bed got boring if one was awake and alone at the same time.
Since he did not spend the nights now taking his pleasure with a woman, he tended to fall asleep the way most people did. That left the days for doing other things. He was having some trouble recalling just what those things might be.
“What is this business that you are about, that is important enough to draw you out of your luxurious cave?” Hawkeswell asked. “I only fell in with you because I wanted to witness the show. It is even better than I thought. We may have a crowd following us soon.” While he talked, he played to the onlookers like a circus master, smiling and nodding left and right, approving their bad behavior.
Amazing, isn’t it? Your eyes are not deceiving you, it is truly he!
Amazing, isn’t it? Your eyes are not deceiving you, it is truly he!
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