Just One Kiss (3 page)

She was standing in the stables. Clad in black, she initially escaped his notice, but as soon as he caught of a glimpse of her shining hair and lush curves his eyes refused to look anywhere else. They skimmed hungrily over her form, trying to make sense of the transformation in the girl that he had known since childhood, when she liked to tag along on outings that he and Anthony made.  She was almost six years younger, and he had never thought of her as anything more than a puppy that liked to follow in their wake, but the skinny, grubby little girl who had chased him in the fields had blossomed into a young woman, and an incredibly fetching one at that.  Considering the fact that he was practically engaged he hadn’t permitted himself the temptation of speaking more than the barest pleasantries during their brief encounter.  Edward had watched her, though, and had been shaken to the core when he discovered that she was watching back.

Daphne didn’t know it, and he planned never to let her know it, but she’d thrown him off kilter from the first time that he’d laid eyes on her again, and his discomfort grew as the days stretched out. Miss Winston lingered in town, attending parties, selecting her trousseau and closing up her house.  Edward spent more and more time with Anthony
Hargreaves
and, consequently, his sister.

Edward didn’t deny that he enjoyed spending time with the girl. She was intelligent and full of life. He was flattered by the hungry way that she hung on his words and laughed at his jokes and he paid attention to her in return. Maybe he had asked her for too many dances or offered his arm for too many strolls in the park, but he had never intentionally led her on.  Daphne ought to have known better
--
but her conduct suggested otherwise. Try as he might, Edward had never been able to block the memories of that fateful morning from his mind. 

It began as an ordinary day. Edward awoke a bit later than usual and rang for breakfast in his room. He had not yet summoned his valet and was still sitting in his shirtsleeves, still trying to shake away the after effects of dreams when Daphne burst into his room and closed the door behind her.

Sitting there in his room, half-clad, he half thought he had imagined her or that she was the lingering fragment of one of his dreams.  Edward was so stunned by her arrival that he barely heard the words she said.  Daphne was rambling on about love and he had made a tongue-tied reply, but then she had kissed him, and he had known that she was real.

Edward had his share of experience with women at college, but when Daphne’s lips brushed his own, he felt as if he’d never been kissed before.  He had never felt skin so alive and humming, or lips that
molded
so perfectly to his own.  He had enough presence of mind to keep his hands to himself, but Daphne’s fingers raked up and down his back, leaving ten searing furrows in their wake.  Still half asleep and half-believing, it had been tempting to follow her lead. 

Fate intervened.

Edward and Anthony planned to meet at Meriden for some shooting that morning, but Edward was running late, and his friend became impatient. Long years of familiarity with the family meant that
Hargreaves
didn’t wait downstairs in the hall -- with disastrous results.

“What the hell are you doing with my sister?”

The seconds that followed that question, angrily bellowed in Anthony Hargr
eave
s
’s
voice, were the longest of Edward’s life.  The pleasure of the embrace evaporated instantly. Suddenly, everything seemed to move in slow motion. 

Edward knew how compromising a situation he was in.  He was kissing an unmarried girl, in his bedroom, with the door firmly shut and his coat and waistcoat still draped across the bed.  If Anthony had held his silence, the consequences might have been avoided, but he did not.  His bellow alerted the entire house, and the fury on his face meant he was not going to listen to reason.
Hargreaves
dragged his sister home, but Edward knew that he’d be back.

Anthony marched back to Packwood House the afternoon of the incident, still breathing fire.  He demanded satisfaction for his sister, and Edward had no choice but to
submit
to his demands.  The kiss had been intriguing, true, but not enough to build a marriage upon.  Edward had reached an understanding with Miss Winston, their engagement was about to be announced, and
he
did not wish to be thought of as a man who trifled with young ladies’ hearts.  However, in the end, the choice was simple.  He did not want to marry Daphne
Hargreaves
, but he did not want to murder her brother either.  It would have come to that; Anthony had arrived with pistols, and Edward could extract himself from the situation in only three ways: married, wanted, or dead.

They might have been content.

The Earl could think of any number of couples who had not precisely been in love on the event of their nuptials, but who had grown easy in each other’s company over time.  Looking back over the years, Edward couldn’t remember precisely what it was which had made him so determined to see Daphne punished for what she had done.  After all, she was only a silly girl.  She had been impossibly youn
g, and perhaps entitled to be
foolish.  Still, he could not find a way to forgive her the carelessness with which she had treated his life.

“I love you,” she had said that morning.  The memory still made his lips twist into a bitter smirk.  She supposedly
loved
him, and yet she had no concern for his own feelings before she thrust herself into his life.  She hadn’t inquired about
his
interests or
his
plans for life. 

It was, perhaps, attributable to a defect in his character, but the loss of Miss Winston did not sting nearly as deeply as the loss of his independence, or of his dreams of going abroad to see the world.  He had nurtured a small fantasy of using his wife’s money to purchase land in the West Indies for sugar, or a farm in one of the other colonies, but Daphne had seen those hopes dashed.  She was not as well provisioned as his intended fiancé.  He would have to content himself with law.

Only, he didn’t.

Edward Everton had never been intentionally perverse.  He rarely acted badly and when he did it was meant to impart a lesson, and not for vicious satisfaction or cruelty’s sake.  But on the evening of their wedding, he had been pushed beyond his bounds.

Daphne had been so deliriously happy at the ceremony.  It was clear to anyone who saw her face that she was positively giddy with joy at the union that was taking place.  Oblivious to the arch glances passed between her guests, she floated down the aisle of the church to his side and seemed fit to explode with joy when she placed her hand in his.  She had achieved her goal, netted her fish, and was satisfied with her result.  He could almost
hate her for it.  By the time
the vicar pronounced them husband and wife, he wanted nothing so much as to wipe the smile from her impossibly pretty face.

Edward endured cake and toasts at his brother’s house for an hour, and then quietly skulked away.

“Are you tired, darling?”
Edward hadn’t noticed Daphne following in his wake, but he ought not to have been surprised.  She had been glued to his side since they left the church, chattering happily about her plans for their house and her trousseau and the babies they would have, as if completely oblivious to his displeasure.  She took his hand, smiling shyly in a manner which he supposed must pass for a sixteen-year-old’s attempt at seduction.  “Shall we retire for the evening?”

He met her eyes, nervous but bright.  He was struck again by how lovely she was, how warm and full of life.  He remembered how nice it had felt to kiss her- and that was when something inside of him hardened.  He would
not
love her!  He would
not
reward her for what she had done.

“I’ll be along later,” he said in a surprisingly gentle tone, “There’s something I have to take care of in town.”

Daphne frowned. “Is it a surprise?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes,” he nodded his head and eased her toward the staircase. “It’s a surprise.”

“You’re coming back?” Finally, her certainty faded.

Edward didn’t permit himself to look at her soft, grey eyes, or the tantalising pout of her lip, or the delicate slope of her shoulders displayed by her yellow silk dress. “I’m coming back,” he promised.

As it turned out, the words were not a lie.

Here he was, six years later, finally coming back to his wife.

Chapter 3

A sharp gust of wind alerted Edward to the fact that he was still standing on the porch staring at his own front door.

“This is ridiculous,” he growled under his breath, and then jerked the door open and strode into the hall.

A butler scurried into the passage, looking as anxious as his stereotypically blank façade would permit.  He gave Edward an appraising glance.  The look was so studied that Lord Coventry could almost read his mind: A stranger; and therefore a threat; too well dressed to be a burglar, and certainly not in broad daylight in the middle of Grosvenor Square.

“May I help you, sir?” The servant inquired at last, his tone respectful, but his body subtly barring him from going upstairs.

“I’m here to see Daphne,” Edward answered gruffly.  “She’s expecting me.”

“
The Countess of Coventry,”
The butler clarified in a tone that was subtly chiding.  “I shall see if my Lady is at home for you, Mr…”

“She’s at home for me,” Edward snapped, too annoyed to deal with the little man.  He tried to go around, but was thwarted.  The butler valiantly stood his ground, placing a hand on the banister to block the intruder’s path.

“If you would be so kind as to wait, Mr…?”

“
Lord
Coventry,” came the curt reply.  “The
Earl
of Devonshire -- and you will kindly let me pass in my own house!”

If the tone and temper of the words had not been enough to move the manservant, their content certainly was; in shocked silence, he stood aside, apparently remembering himself at that last moment and trailing Edward up the stairs calling, “Sir, I will announce you?”

Edward didn’t listen.  He had spent enough time brooding over this visit.  He would prefer that it was over quickly -- one clean stroke of an axe, rather than a lingering pain. “Where is Lady Coventry?” he barked.

“In her
parlor
, sir,” the butler said.  “I could fetch-“

“Where is it?”

“This way.”

Edward felt a twinge of pity for
the older man.  He was obviously quite loyal to his mistress, and wasn’t yet certain whether to assist Edward or not.  He was trying, and failing, to walk a middle line.

Edward walked in the direction that the other man had indicated, pausing again in front of a closed door.  His hand hovered over the handle, and he took a breath.  Then, he stepped inside.

Daphne was facing toward the window.  She didn’t stir as he stepped inside, so he was granted a moment simply to observe her from the door.

His light eyes drank in her shape.  From behind, he could discern little difference in her figure.  She was still fine boned, but her hips had flared slightly, softening the boyishness that her figure had held before.  Her auburn hair had deepened to brown, leaving only glints of fire that peeked out from beneath her lacy cap.  The rest was still a mystery.

“Edward?”

He started when he heard his name.  From her posture, he assumed that Daphne hadn’t noticed his presence.  Of course, she was looking out the window.  She was expecting him.  She had probably heard the latch.

It was strange how simply hearing her speak his name affected him.  A cold shiver ran through his body as the vowels and consonants rolled off her tongue, her familiar voice hushed and oddly intimate considering that they had been strangers these six years.