Seduction Becomes Her (20 page)

Despite his efforts, Charles had nothing to show for his quest except for a few bruises, a much lighter purse, and an intimate knowledge of every smuggler’s haunt along the Cornish coast. He had learned one thing: the common folk were far more anxious about the dead women than the gentry realized. They were frightened for their womenfolk and spoke in low tones about the savage state of the two bodies. There was no mention of a third murdered woman, and Charles wondered if that corpse had ever actually existed. But of the sole thing he searched for, he found no sign. There was never a hint, never a whisper of a stranger, a newcomer in the area, not a word about someone who just might be a killer.

Thinking of his fruitless search, he grimaced, tapping the letter on his wrist. Perhaps Mr. Vinton had been more successful.

To Charles’s disgust, Mr. Vinton had discovered nothing helpful. Tossing the letter aside, Charles sat on the sofa, staring at nothing. Except for the two, possibly three, women done savagely to death, he had not found any evidence that pointed to their killer or killers and more importantly, to Raoul being alive and slaughtering innocents. He’d found no money trail, and no one seemed to have noticed or heard of any strangers in the area.

Charles leaned his head back against the sofa and sighed. If only he and Julian had found Raoul’s body, then there would not be this gnawing question at the back of his mind. Raoul had been shot twice in the chest, either wound likely fatal, yet it was possible that neither bullet had hit a vital organ. Certainly, Raoul had not been incapacitated enough to prevent him from disappearing down the sluice hole. The underground passageway had revealed no sign of him, and since it emptied into the river, again, it was possible that Raoul had managed to make it to the river and had allowed the current to take him far downstream before it tossed him up on a riverbank. Possible, Charles admitted, but unlikely. The lack of a body could indicate that Raoul did make it to the river and in all probability, drowned or was dead when he hit the water. If his body had been lodged under a rock, it might never be found, or it may even have been swept out to sea. But suppose Raoul had survived the shooting, survived the river, what then? Sofia was dead and unable to help him. So how did he manage to survive? He rubbed his forehead. Was it time for him to admit that Raoul was well and truly dead and that he was merely chasing shadows, seeing things that were not there? Charles took a deep breath. He had done what he could, used what resources he had at his command, and had come up empty-handed. Even though they had found no body, Raoul must be dead. He swallowed some brandy. His half brother was dead, and he would squander no more time or effort trying to prove otherwise.

The gruesome deaths of the two women that had brought him to Cornwall, Charles thought tiredly, had to have been the work of someone else. It was possible that their deaths were not even related to each other and that he had wasted time that could have been more pleasurably employed. The memory of Daphne’s soft mouth beneath his leaped to his mind, and his body reacted instantly. Ignoring the impudent organ that sprang to life between his legs, he tossed off the last of his brandy. Walking toward his bed, he decided that it was a good thing he’d been distracted by this Raoul business. If not for that, he’d have been spending every available moment in Daphne’s orbit, and he doubted that his resolution to keep his hands off of her would have been kept. Even if he didn’t plan to seduce her, he knew himself too well. He would have been unable to resist her allure, and soon enough, he would have sought a secluded moment alone with her, intending to only steal a kiss, but one kiss would lead to another…. With her sweet mouth beneath his, his hands would have sought out those soft, tempting curves, and if she did not deny him, and he knew she would not, in a moment, it would be too late….

His body and brain inflamed by the vision of losing himself in Daphne’s silken depths, he tossed aside his robe and crawled into bed. He lay there, painfully aware of the aching, throbbing rod that poked up from beneath the covers. Devil take it! And to think that he had ten more days in which to endure this punishment. Pray God the time passed swiftly.

The time did fly, but not as swiftly as Charles would have liked. For Daphne, the days passed far too quickly, the enormity of the changes in her life both exhilarating and frightening.

Beaumont Place buzzed as if preparing for a siege. Extra servants were hired; foodstuffs from Penzance and outlying areas poured into the house in a steady stream; wedding gifts arrived in bewildering numbers, and she wondered if Charles was related to half of England. The household had been in a frenzy of preparation for weeks, but for her, the wedding had been at a distance, her life still her own. Then overnight, the wedding was only two days away, and horses and coaches were driving up to the front of the house disgorging trunks, servants, and utter strangers who would soon be her relatives by marriage. There seemed to be a astonishing number of them, and as Charles made introductions, only a few stood out: Marcus Sherbrook, a cousin who looked remarkably like Charles, and of course, the Earl and Countess of Wyndham. Daphne had been nervous to meet them, anxious about what they must think of this sudden marriage, her lack of social connections and fortune preying heavily on her mind, but the earl’s warm smile and the friendly way the countess embraced her beguiled her. If she had thought that Marcus looked like Charles, she was utterly dumbfounded by the resemblance between Charles and the earl. They looked enough alike to be twins, she thought dazedly as she stared at the earl’s amazingly familiar features. Then realizing that she was standing and gawking like a village milkmaid, her cheeks bloomed red, her eyes dropped, and she muttered something intelligible.

The countess, her eyes twinkling, hugged Daphne again and said, “Don’t be embarrassed. They do resemble each other to a remarkable degree. Unlike you, I was forewarned, and when I met Charles, I was not caught by surprise, but you…” She smiled at Daphne. “Charles, the wretch, never mentioned a word, did he?”

Utterly disarmed by the countess’s easy manner, Daphne said, “He is, indeed, a wretch, for he breathed not a word to me. Nor that Mr. Sherbrook also shared the family features.”

“Be that as it may, you must admit that I am, by far, the most handsome of the lot,” Charles murmured, trying to look modest and failing lamentably.

“Certainly the most arrogant,” the earl replied with a laugh. “It is, I’m afraid, his besetting sin.” Taking Daphne’s hand in his, he said, “We are most pleased to meet you, Miss Beaumont, and to welcome you to our family.” He slanted a mocking glance toward Charles. “Having only just met you, already I feel that you will have a leavening effect on that scamp you plan to marry. Believe me, he needs a firm hand.”

“Dash it all, Julian, don’t be filling her head with that sort of nonsense! I already go in fear that I shall live under the cat’s paw. She definitely doesn’t need you giving her pointers on how to bring me to heel.” He grinned down at Daphne. “She’ll manage quite well on her own.”

“Well, I certainly mean to try,” Daphne murmured.

Nell laughed and clapped her hands together in delight. “Oh, I knew I would like you! You are exactly what Charles needs. I so feared he would fall prey to some sweetly biddable female who would be absolutely no good at all for him. Now tell me, where are Sir Adrian and your sister? Charles’s letters have been full of them, and I have been so looking forward to meeting them—they sound an enchanting pair.”

Nothing could have endeared Nell to Daphne more than Nell’s interest in her siblings. “They are awaiting us in the gold saloon.” She smiled. “My brother felt that it would be proper for me to meet you first. Won’t you come this way?”

Adrian and April rose nervously to their feet when Julian, Nell, and Marcus, escorted by Daphne and Charles, swept into the room, but once introductions were made, Julian’s friendly overtures and Nell’s warm interest calmed them, and their nervousness vanished. They comported themselves very well, Daphne thought proudly several moments later, watching Adrian talking earnestly to the earl and Marcus while April sat on the sofa conversing prettily with the countess. Their manners were impeccable, and who would not be charmed by two such handsome and beautiful young people?

Charles came to stand by her side and whispered in her ear, “Are you scheming already to elicit Nell’s help when April makes her debut in London?”

Daphne had the grace to blush. “Not scheming,” she admitted with a guilty expression, “but I
was
hoping that if the Countess liked April enough, she might want to introduce her to some of the higher ranking members of the ton.” She glanced at Charles, her eyes glowing. “It would be most wonderful for April’s advancement in society. Just a word from the Countess could put all of London society at her feet. And if the earl helped him, Adrian would be asked to join the most select clubs for gentlemen in all of London. Under the aegis of the Earl and Countess of Wyndham, their positions in society would be assured.”

“And you don’t think that I could do as much?” he asked with a lifted brow, astonished to discover that he was a trifle put out that Daphne would look to someone else to launch her sister and brother into the heights of the ton.

“Could you?” Daphne asked innocently. She touched his sleeve. “Oh, Charles! Would you? It would be more than I ever dreamed to have them welcomed into the midst of the
haut ton!
The doors that would open for them! The opportunities!”

Staring down into Daphne’s face, her love and pride in her brother and sister blazing in her eyes, Charles wondered bleakly, and not for the first time, if the day would ever come that she would look at him with that same intense loving expression. The lowering thought occurred to him that in Daphne’s world, he came a distant third to Adrian and April. He wasn’t
exactly
jealous, at least he didn’t think so, but he wished that his rivals for her affections were not her brother and sister. A male rival, he would have known precisely how to disable, but he was defenseless against Adrian and April. If they had been a pair of selfish, scheming hellborn babes, he could have, and would have, dealt summarily with them, but what was he to do when pitted against a disarmingly charming youth like Adrian and a beguiling little darling like April? They might not come from a socially powerful and aristocratic family as he did, but their bloodline was certainly respectable, and with Adrian’s newly inherited title and wealth, there was nothing to hinder their advancement amongst the rich and powerful. Charles smiled. Who could resist them? They deserved to have all those golden opportunities that Daphne longed for them to have. To his astonishment, he realized that he wanted their advancement into the ranks of the
ton
as much as Daphne did, and he shook his head at how quickly he had entered the ranks of every scheming, matchmaking parent he had ever met.

Charles glanced over to where Julian, Marcus, and Adrian stood talking. “I may not have the cachet of the Earl of Wyndham or the staid respectability of my cousin, Marcus, but there are few doors that are closed to me,” he said carelessly, “and as his brother-in-law, I will be more than happy to ease Adrian’s path into society.” He made a face, honesty making him add, “However, in April’s case…I think, perhaps, that her social advancement would be best left in yours and Nell’s hands.” He grinned down at Daphne. “There are a few of the reigning hostesses who might look askance at any female I sought to fire off into society.”

“Is your reputation very bad?” Daphne asked uneasily. She was curious about his life prior to coming to Cornwall. She knew of his relationship to the earl, knew that his family was highly esteemed, knew that he was wealthy and owned his own estate, but beyond that, there was a whole blank canvas.

Charles rubbed his chin. “Let me put it this way: a few years ago, mamas with lovely marriageable daughters tended to keep them under lock and key when I was in the vicinity.” He smiled charmingly at her. “But most gentlemen found me more than tolerable.”

“Do not let him bamboozle you,” said Julian, coming up to join them, Marcus and Adrian trailing behind him. Grinning at Charles, Julian continued, “I tell you, my dear, that he was the worst kind of rake. A handsome, utterly charming ne’er-do-well, a neck-or-nothing rider, and an incredibly lucky gambler.”

“Don’t forget,” chimed in Marcus, “handy with his fives, a devil with a sword, and reckless and wild to a fault.”

“All of that,” Julian agreed easily, the expression in his gaze hard to define as he stared at Charles, “but also the very man you want at your side should your back be against the wall.”

“I shall have absolutely no character left if the pair of you continue to fill her ears with that sort of tittle-tattle,” Charles complained. To Daphne, he said, “Do not listen to them. They were always an envious pair. You see before you a changed man. I have sworn off my rakish ways.” He lifted her hand to his lips and murmured, “And you, my sweet, have nothing to fear. I shall be an exemplary husband.”

“If it kills him,” said Marcus sotto voce.

Baron Templeton, his wife and heir, the Honorable Stacy Bannister, arrived shortly, and there was another round of introductions, although Daphne took one look at Lady Templeton and Stacy Bannister and knew them to be related to Charles. Both had the Weston family looks, and it came as no surprise to learn the Lady Templeton was his aunt and Stacy, at twenty-five, his youngest male cousin. She was even more gratified when Stacy took a liking to Adrian, and the stunned look on his face when he met April filled her cup to over-flowing.

Dinner that evening was lively, the conversation scintillating, and the food superb. By the time the ladies rose from the table, leaving the gentlemen to their port and wines, she was so filled with optimism for the future for Adrian and April that Daphne’s feet hardly touched the floor.

She was still floating, visions of Adrian and April taking London by storm drifting through her head, when she prepared for bed many hours later. Sitting at her dressing table, she swung around and stared at the now opened doorway that led to the sitting room she and Charles would share, and the reality of what was happening filtered through her brain. The day after tomorrow, at eleven o’clock in the morning, she would be married to a man whose name she had not even known a month ago. Her heart gave an uncomfortable lurch. Soon she would be Mrs. Charles Weston, and her fate and those of Adrian and April would be in the hands of a stranger, albeit one whom she had grown to trust and respect. She did not know whether to be ecstatic or terrified. Or both.