Guilty Series (6 page)

She started to turn away, but his voice stopped her. “Where are you going, in heaven's name? If you have been persuaded away by some other excavation—”

“I will be staying with Lady Hammond at Enderby. She is going to introduce me into society and help me find my mother's family.”

That was just as ridiculous now as it had been last night when his sister had suggested it. There were only seven months before the opening of the museum. Seven short months in which they had an enormous amount of work to do.

Damn Viola's sudden interest in romantic endeavors. She knew how important this excavation was to him, and also how crucial Miss Wade's expertise was to getting it completed. He had no intention of letting this little scheme of theirs go any further.

“I can appreciate your desire to find your connections, Miss Wade, but you can easily make inquiries about your relations from here. Viola will not carry out any plans involving your departure from here without my consent. I refuse to give it, and will tell her so.”

A smile he could not help but describe as triumphant curved her lips. “Lady Hammond said that all I needed to do was speak with you and officially resign my post, giving you one month to find a replacement.” She gestured to the letter on the floor. “Now I have done so.”

“Find a replacement? God, woman, people like you do not grow on trees! You know perfectly well that anyone with your skill at restoration is committed to a project years in advance. It took me three years to get your father. The museum opens in seven months, and you know the villa will take at least five years. Replacing you is impossible at this point. I have assured the Society of Antiquarians that this museum will be opened in time for the London season, so that we might generate as much interest as possible. I will not have the opening delayed a year because you've got it into your head all of a sudden to go off to London in search of a husband and the frivolous amusements of society. You cannot leave until this project is finished. I have obligations to fulfill, and I have given my word.”

“You, you, you!” she cried, an outburst that astonished him, not only because she dared to speak to him in such a way, but also because it was the first display of real emotion he had ever witnessed from
her. “You may be a duke, but you are not the sun around which the world revolves. In fact, you are quite the opposite, for you are the most selfish man I have ever known. Inconsiderate, too, for you order your servants and staff about without so much as a please or a thank you. You care nothing for the feelings of others, and you are arrogant enough to believe that your rank entitles you to behave that way. I—” She broke off and wrapped her arms around herself as if attempting to contain her emotions. As well she should, for this torrent of inexplicable criticism was both unjustified and unpardonable.

He opened his mouth to dress her down for her impudence, as he would any other person in his employ, but she spoke before he had the chance to do so. “The plain truth, your grace, is that I do not like you, and I do not wish to work for you any longer. Speak to Lady Hammond if you wish, but I am leaving in one month regardless of whether or not you forbid her to help me.”

Anthony watched her back as she walked out of the antika without another word, not knowing quite whether to go after her or go after Viola for putting idiotic notions into her head. In the end, he did neither.

Instead, he bent down and retrieved Miss Wade's letter of resignation from the floor. He opened it and scanned the two lines written in her precise and perfect script.

As he refolded the letter, a memory came into his mind of the day she had arrived at Tremore Hall five months earlier. Today was not the first time
Miss Wade had given him cause for surprise.

For a long time, he had wanted to excavate the Roman remains on his estate, and had envisioned a museum in which to put them. Not just a place for the wealthy and privileged to view a part of their history, but one open to British citizens of all classes. There was nothing else like it in London.

Sir Henry Wade had been widely acknowledged as the best antiquarian living, and Anthony had wanted the best for his excavation. He had spent three years trying to persuade Sir Henry to take on the villa excavation and the restoration of its antiquities, to no avail. He had been forced to use other, much less skilled restorers, and he had found their expertise woefully inadequate, but he had persisted in his attempts to persuade Sir Henry to return to England and take over the project, and the man had finally agreed to come.

But it had not been that eminent gentleman he had found waiting for him in the anteroom off of Tremore's great hall that March day five months ago. Standing amid the stone statues, green marble columns, and crystal chandeliers of the anteroom, he had found a young woman with a round, solemn face and gold-rimmed spectacles, a woman who had proclaimed to his house steward that she was Sir Henry's daughter. Dressed in a worn brown traveling cloak, wearing brown boots of heavy leather and a wide-brimmed straw hat, with a plain black portmanteau at her feet, she had looked as dry as the Moroccan desert from which she had come.

In a soft, well-bred voice that displayed no discernible personal feeling, she had told him of her father's death and her arrival here to take Sir Henry's place and complete his excavation.

His immediate refusal should have sent her scurrying for the door, but it had not. She had ignored his words as if he had not spoken at all. She had told him of her knowledge and experience in a recital of concise facts, listing in methodical fashion all the reasons why he should allow her to step into what would have been her father's position.

When he had finally interrupted her, stating in the most icy tone a duke could command that he had chosen her father because he had wanted the best antiquarian available and he had no intention of hiring her without her father, she had not pleaded with him. She had not tried to play on his sympathy or his chivalry with some heartbreaking story about how she had nothing and no one and needed the job. She had merely blinked at him through those spectacles, staring at him with that inscrutable face and looking for all the world like a solemn baby owl as she had replied in utter seriousness, “I am the best available.”

His disbelieving laugh had gone right by her, for she had continued, “I am the daughter of Sir Henry Wade, and he was the best. I was trained by him, and now that he is gone, there is no one more qualified for this post than I.”

He had never intended to hire her, but he had few options. For the sake of expedience, he had agreed, and for the sake of propriety, he had brought Mr.
and Mrs. Bennington from one of the lodges on the estate into the house, so that Mrs. Bennington might act as her chaperone.

During the five months Miss Wade had been here, he had come to realize that her words had been no idle boast. She knew more about ancient Roman antiquities than he could ever hope to know. She was an excellent mosaicist, and her fresco work was perfection itself. He had wanted the best, and as she had so bluntly told him, he had gotten it.

Anthony came out of his reverie and crumpled the letter in his hand into a ball. Until this project was complete, Miss Wade was not going anywhere. When he had the best, he was damn well going to keep it.

V
iola had predicted Anthony would not like the idea of Daphne resigning, and the moment he came storming into her sitting room scarcely an hour after Daphne's departure, she knew her prediction had been an accurate one. He was frowning like thunder.

“Miss Wade is leaving,” he said without ceremony. “What have you been up to?”

Viola looked up from her letters to glance at her maid, Celeste, who had paused in her task of repairing a torn hem on one of her gowns, then back at Anthony. “If we are going to have a row,” she said calmly, “I should not like to do so in front of a servant.”

Anthony turned to the maid. “Leave us,” he or
dered, and the girl stuck the last pin into the dressmaker's model, bobbed a quick curtsy to both of them, and left her mistress alone with the duke, closing the door behind her.

Viola studied her brother for a moment, noting his narrowed eyes and the grim set of his mouth. Oh, yes, he was very angry indeed. Even to her, it was a bit intimidating.

“I really don't know what you mean,” she finally said. “Daphne came to me and said she had decided to resign her post. She told me of her intention to find her grandfather, move in society, and perhaps begin meeting suitable young gentlemen. She asked for my assistance. What was I to do?”

“Refuse. That seems to be an obvious choice.”

“I would not do such a thing. She is a baron's granddaughter.”

“Perhaps. We do not know that.”

Viola shrugged as if it did not matter. “A knight's daughter then,” she amended, smiling. “I like her, we have become friends, and I think she deserves to be given the opportunity to find her family. She is no common servant sent up from the orphanage. She is a young lady, and she deserves to take her place in society.”

“Cannot this little venture of yours wait until spring? Or better still, five years or so?”

“How heartless you are, Anthony!” Viola rebuked. “Five years will serve to eliminate her chances in the marriage mart altogether. Besides, she wishes to go, and you cannot blame her for wanting to establish her connection to her grandfa
ther. I told her if she was determined to this course, of course I would assist her, but she needed to speak with you first.”

He shot her a shrewd, knowing look. “You encouraged her to resign.”

“I did not refuse to help her, if that is what you mean. Daphne must be allowed to claim her birthright.”

“That is not what I meant. You talked to her about how exciting London is, how amusing the balls and parties are, offered to help her find a husband and all that rot. God only knows what silly ideas you have put into her head.”

“There is nothing silly about a young lady wishing for company and society and wanting to find a husband. She is very lonely here, you know.”

“That is hardly the point,” he answered. “You know how important this museum and excavation are. You know I have obligations to complete this project. I cannot believe you would do this, Viola.”

She spread her hands wide and donned an air of bewilderment. “Anthony, you seem quite put out. I fail to understand why you should care one way or the other. All you need do is replace her.”

“Miss Wade is not replaceable. She is vital to the success of this project, and she is not going anywhere for at least the next seven months. Five years, if I have my way.”

Viola began to laugh. “My dear brother, you cannot make her stay against her will. Slavery is against the law, you know.”

He was clearly not amused. “When I hired her,
she took on an obligation to me through the completion of this project. She intends to break her promise to me, yet she had the impudence to call me inconsiderate.”

“She did?” Viola was astonished. Anthony's position was so high that most people, including herself, would not dare speak to him in such a way. “I can scarce believe it.”

“Believe it, for that is what she said. I do not say please and thank you, she said. I am inconsiderate, arrogant, and—what was it?—selfish. Yes, that was it. She said she was resigning because she did not want to work for me any longer.”

He sounded outraged—baffled, too, without any comprehension of Daphne's point of view. Viola was a bit confused herself. What on earth could have prompted Daphne to speak in such a fashion? She seemed such a serene, steady sort of person. “Anthony, when she told you she was resigning, what did you do? Bully her, I suppose.”

“Indeed, I did not. I simply reminded her of her duty to me and my obligation to the Society. She flew into an inexplicable temper, and leveled all manner of insults at my head. Who is she to speak so?”

Though still puzzled by what had prompted Daphne's sudden desire to leave Hampshire, Viola could read between the lines where her brother was concerned, and she no longer needed to wonder what had sparked Daphne's temper on having her resignation refused. He had probably gone on and on about what mattered to him, without a thought for what mattered to her.

Viola almost wanted to laugh. She had a great deal of affection for Anthony, but he did have his faults, which Daphne had clearly not hesitated to point out to him. Despite the other woman's quiet reserve, Viola was developing a high degree of respect for her. Reserved, perhaps, but quite able to speak her mind, and stand up to Anthony.

“What was the girl thinking?” he demanded, turning away to pace back and forth in front of his sister. “Does she not understand her place? God, does she not know what I could do to her for this?”

Viola studied him as he moved back and forth in such high dungeon, and she realized she had never seen him quite like this before. Undoubtedly, he had never heard such criticism in his life, and was so outraged by it that his usual coolness and self-possession had deserted him. Daphne had truly gotten under his skin, probably because everything she had said was true, and deep down, he knew it.

“A duke saying please and thank you,” he went on. “How ridiculous is that?”

Viola was too preoccupied to reply. A thought suddenly occurred to her, a thought that seemed incredible at first, but which took hold with such force that she could not set it aside. Oh, how delightful if he could be persuaded to marry Daphne instead of Lady Sarah.

The more Viola thought about that idea, the better she liked it. If Daphne was indeed the granddaughter of a baron, her suitability would be disapproved only by a few high sticklers. Viola knew from that look she had caught on Daphne's face the other day that
she was a woman of passionate feeling, despite her outward demeanor. She was head over ears in love with Anthony already. She also seemed to know her own mind, and she had the temerity to stand up to a duke. That boded well for future happiness. Of course, his unfair impression of her had to be overcome, as well as her decision to leave and her new, unexpected animosity toward him, a feeling that puzzled Viola. Where had it come from?

“Oh, good lord!” she exclaimed as a realization suddenly struck her. “Of course. How could I have been so blind not to see at once?”

“That is what I want to know,” Anthony's voice intruded, and made her realize she had spoken aloud. “I am quite put out with you, Viola, as well as with her. What were you thinking?”

Viola tore herself away from her dismayed realization long enough to reply, “I am sorry, Anthony, if you feel put out.”

Daphne must have overheard their conversation in the music room, their conversation about her. That explained everything. No wonder she wanted to leave with such haste. No wonder she wanted to go into society and find suitors to soothe her wounded pride. No wonder she dared to throw criticism back at Anthony. What woman would not retaliate for the comparison to a stick insect?

“You should have at least consulted me,” he tossed out at her as he continued to pace. “She had the gall to say she is leaving because she does not like me, Viola. Deuce take it, who is this chit to like me or not? Who does she think she is?”

“A woman who is not afraid to tell you what she thinks of you, obviously.” As much as she hoped her brother could be made to revise his assessment of Daphne, she wondered if it would matter in any case. Daphne had been in love with him, Viola was sure of it, which made her wounded pride all the harder to heal.

Bringing the pair together suddenly seemed a hopeless business, and Viola's heart sank. Daphne was a warm and loving person, and she would make Anthony so much happier than Sarah ever could. “She is entitled to her opinion, Anthony.”

He shot her an angry glance as he paced. “You are partly responsible for the entire situation. I expect you to retract your offer to the girl at once.”

Viola folded her arms and gave her brother the stubborn look characteristic of their family tree. “I will do no such thing. If Daphne chooses to come to stay with me, I will not gainsay her.”

Anthony stopped pacing and faced her with all that ducal intimidation. “You intend to defy me?”

She stood her ground. “I intend to do what is right. Daphne deserves to find her relations and take her place in society. I have offered to help her in that task, and I have invited her to stay at Chiswick with me. I will introduce her into society, assist her to make appropriate acquaintances, and introduce her to eligible young men. I will not take back that invitation simply because you will be inconvenienced. If you do not want her to leave, I suggest you find a way to persuade her to stay. If you can.”

The moment she said those words, Viola felt a ray of hope return. Anthony had never been one to refuse a challenge. As she expected, her brother met her gaze and replied, “I can, and I will.”

“Might I suggest,” Viola added, smiling, “that in persuading her to stay, you make use of the charming aspects of your character? You might have better success in changing her mind if you remember that she is a woman with needs and feelings and dreams of her own. Though she might be an excellent antiquarian, Daphne is not a machine. If you got to know her, you might come to understand her, which would only serve to help your cause.”

He did not react to having his own description of Daphne thrown back at him, nor did he seem to appreciate her advice. Instead, he started for the door. “I will keep your counsel in mind.”

“Good. Then I think I will go on to Chiswick in the morning, so that I do not get involved in this any further.”

“Excellent.” He paused in the doorway to look at her over his shoulder. “I shall be down to London in a few months, and will pay a visit to Enderby to see you then. In the interim, if Hammond does anything—”

“I shall inform you at once.”

“Good.”

Viola watched her brother go, and she hoped her notion to bring Daphne and Anthony together would succeed. Matchmaking was a tricky business, but she thought this match at least had a chance. Granted, Daphne wasn't beautiful like
Lady Sarah, but she was attractive in her own way. She shared Anthony's most important interests in life. She had the intelligence and good sense necessary to run the vast households of a duke with ease. She had passion and a warm, tender heart. Though he did not realize it now, Daphne was a woman who could make him happy. If it came about, theirs would be an excellent match.

She summoned Celeste to begin packing her things. She had done all she could to ensure Anthony's future happiness, and she would have to content herself with that. Perhaps she would write a letter or two along the way to move the pair in the right direction, but love, if it was destined between these two, would have to happen on its own. She knew the best thing she could do for now was get out of the way.

In addition to helping Anthony find a loving wife, there was also the benefit of prevailing over Lady Sarah Monforth, one of the most worthless young women in England. The idea of that sweet triumph made Viola smile.

 

Daphne watched as a pair of workmen carried a large section of mosaic flooring through the doorway into the antika. She winced as the corner of it hit the door jamb, chipping off a tiny piece of the pavement. “Oh, please be careful.”

“Never say please to the workmen,” a low voice murmured in her ear. “If you do, they will not respect you.”

The sound of Anthony's voice right behind her
almost made her jump, and Daphne turned around. “I appreciate the advice, your grace,” she said, “but since I have been around workmen all my life, I believe I can manage to get a pair of them to move a mosaic pavement without assistance.”

She walked away, but she could still feel Anthony's gaze on her back as she followed the men inside the antika. “Thank you,” she said as they laid the pavement on her largest worktable. “Now, I need—”

“Leave us,” Anthony interrupted from behind her.

The two men immediately moved to obey, ignoring Daphne's sound of protest. She frowned at him as the workmen left the building. “I do not suppose it occurred to you to inquire if I had any further need of their help before you dismissed them?”

“No,” he answered with characteristic bluntness. “I wanted to speak with you in private, so I sent them away.”

“Do you always get what you want?”

Daphne watched his dark brows lift in surprise at her impertinence, and she could not suppress a hint of satisfaction. Being indifferent to him was so easy, now that she didn't care for him any more.

“Usually,” he answered. “Perhaps because I am arrogant, inconsiderate, and selfish. Or so I have been told.”

Having her own words quoted back to her was a bit disconcerting, but if he expected an apology, he was mistaken.

“All dukes are like that,” he went on. “It is the way we are raised, you see. It comes from a lifetime of being surrounded by people who wait to gratify
every whim and obey every order without question. Do not expect any duke to behave otherwise.”

She bowed her head in deference to his superior knowledge of dukes. “With you as my example, your grace, I assure you I will not.”