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“Who is that with him?” the duchess asked as she and Daphne stood in front of the town house in Oxford Square on the outskirts of Mayfair, the leasing agent checking his watch nervously beside them.
Daphne closed her eyes. Colin wouldn’t. But, of course, he had. “It’s no one, Mama. I’ll send him away.”
“See that you do.”
Even though the skies threatened no rain, Daphne opened her parasol and spread it out behind her then moved forward to intercept her husband and Mr. Murray. She gave them a tight smile, keeping her gaze mainly on Mr. Murray as looking at Colin would remind her too much of what had happened this morning at Madame Renauld’s.
“The lass has fire in her eyes,” Mr. Murray said to Colin, probably thinking she couldn’t hear.
“Mr. Murray, how kind of you to escort Mr. FitzRoy to see us.” It was a clear dismissal. The men paused before her and gave polite bows. Colin’s was graceful as usual while Murray’s was more gallant than she might have expected from such a large, seemingly uncouth man. She moved to take Colin’s arm, but Murray surprised her again by intercepting her and wrapping her arm around his. Then holding it in place.
“Actually, I came to see you, Lady Daphne.” He began to walk with her, very slowly, toward her mother, whose gaze had narrowed. “You see, I havenae met any suitable lasses yet.”
She tried to tug her arm away, but he just patted it. Colin covered his smile with one hand.
“The Season is young, Mr. Murray. I don’t even believe all the families are yet in Town.”
He gave her a wide smile. “Och, I didnae ken. I was wondering if you would do me one more kindness, lass. Perhaps make me a list of the lasses you recommend.”
She gave him a sharp look. “Women are not like tailors or bootmakers, Mr. Murray.”
“Aye. I didnae intend to pay the lasses. Just woo and wed one then take her back to Scotland with me.”
It seemed a fate she would not wish on her worst enemy. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Murray, but as I have said before, I do not think I can be of assistance.” She finally freed her arm. Her mother gave her an impatient look as the men were now standing before the duchess.
“Your Grace,” Colin said, “may I present Mr. Duncan Murray. He fought with me on the Continent.”
The duchess held out a stiff hand and Murray bent over it. “A pleasure, Your Grace. I believe you ken my mother.”
The duchess started. “I think that unlikely, Mr. Murray.”
“My mother was English, the daughter of the Earl of Montleroy.”
The duchess’s blue eyes widened. “Lady Charlotte? But she ran off with...” She trailed off as she assessed Murray.
“A Scotsman? James Murray, me father and the brother of the laird of Clan Murray.” Murray spread his arms. “And now Lady Charlotte has sent me to find a bride.”
“Charlotte. I haven’t thought of her in years.” The duchess appeared to be staring across the street, but Daphne thought she looked as though she’d gone decades into the past, perhaps reliving her own Season as a young debutante.
“Your Grace,” the leasing agent said timidly. “Might I show you the house now?”
“Of course.”
The leasing agent ascended the steps and led them inside, Murray escorting the duchess. Daphne wondered if what he had told her mother was true. If it was, Duncan Murray’s uncle was the Duke of Atholl. It was very difficult to picture the Scotsman as part of such a noble family. Colin offered his arm to Daphne. She closed her parasol and took it.
“Why is he here?”
“You try putting him off,” Colin answered.
She had and thus far her efforts had been futile. Her mother was still chatting with Murray about his mother, who had apparently been a good friend of the duchess’s, and waved Colin and Daphne ahead. “I have seen the house,” she declared. “You two look around. I will wait in the parlor.”
Compared to the Warcliffe town house, this building was small. But Daphne supposed they did not need much room as it was only the two of them. The first floor held what she immediately thought of as the pink parlor. The walls were a pale rose and the furnishings in shades of cream or blush. She knew she would love spending mornings in that room. It opened into a library, which was quite bright and airy as libraries went. Books lined the shelves and a writing desk faced the window. It was a large window that opened to the garden, and Daphne could see rose bushes already had been planted and tended. They would bloom soon. She’d have to see what color the roses were. If not pink, she’d have some planted.
“I can tell you like it,” Colin said.
She glanced at him. “You don’t?”
He shrugged. “One house is much like another.” He spoke to the agent. “Might we see the dining room?”
The agent led them across the foyer and opened the doors to the dining room. It was a good size, not so large that she would feel as though the two of them were separated by miles if at opposite ends of the table, but not so small that her parents or siblings could not dine with them.
“It’s a bit small,” Colin commented.
She chuckled. “It’s not as though we plan to have grand dinner parties.” She might enjoy Society, but he had made clear he did not. And she did not mind. She was tiring of the endless rounds of social engagements.
“I don’t know about grand, but it will be difficult to fit six couples.”
“Six couples?”
“My friends and their wives.”
She gaped at him. He had friends? But then she knew that. There was Murray and Fortescue and the Duke of Mayne, she supposed. But of those, only Mayne was married, and she certainly did not intend to invite a woman known as the Wanton Widow to her home. Although now that the widow had married the duke, perhaps people would give her another moniker.
“The garden is large enough,” she heard herself saying. “We could dine al fresco.”
“Even better, I can tell Mayne he has to host. Phin is much better at that sort of thing than I am.” He seemed relieved, but as they followed the agent up the stairs, it occurred to her, for the first time, that Colin actually intended to live here.
She intended to live here.
They would live here together.
Yes, she’d always thought she wanted a real marriage, but now that she was faced with the prospect, it was a bit daunting. She’d never spent above a few hours with Colin. She barely knew him. What would they talk about at breakfast? What would they do in the evenings? Where would he sleep when he went to bed?
She got a glimpse of the drawing room, her mind too occupied with thoughts of Colin in bed with her to notice much of it. Then they were shown to the bed chambers. The agent informed them there was one large one with a sitting room attached on the first floor and two others above. Those above were smaller—perfect for servants or children.
Daphne felt the blood rush out of her head at the mention of children. There was only one way to beget children, and she hadn’t particularly enjoyed that act the last time.
I’d make sure you enjoyed it.
She was beginning to believe he would too.
But this was all so very much to take in. Years ago, she’d fancied herself in love with him and had been thrilled to marry him. But that was before he’d abandoned her, making her feel a fool for ever having cared for him.
And she didn’t have the luxury of playing at being a new bride. She had Battersea demanding payment, and he would not wait any longer. He would come for her. After this morning, she couldn’t seem to stop looking over her shoulder. Once or twice, she imagined she spotted him following her, but it must have been her imagination. One of these times, she’d be right and he’d snatch her away and force her to pay her debts on her back.
Colin’s voice startled her out of her worrying. “Give us a moment to speak in private,” he said, ushering the agent out. Daphne watched, feeling a bit dazed. He closed the door of the bed chamber, leaving them alone.
“There’s only one bed chamber,” she said. Her parents had adjoining chambers and their own beds.
“And you don’t want that?”
She sank into a wide chair upholstered in velvet. “I don’t know what I want. How can I even think of this with Battersea demanding his payment? What am I supposed to do? Pick out china?”
“I’m sure the house comes with china.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“I do, and I have already begun investigations into Battersea.” He crouched before her, his arms resting on his knees.
“How will that help? Everyone knows his reputation. Even I knew. I was such a fool.”
“You made a mistake. You’re trying to fix it.”
“How? I didn’t even make it to the gaming hell to win the money I need.”
“By trusting me to help you.”
“You can’t don disguises and run away from him forever.” It all seemed so hopeless.
“But I can see if he has any vulnerabilities. Perhaps he has secrets he doesn’t want made known. He might be willing to forgive your debt in exchange for your silence.”
She blinked at him. She’d never thought of that. It hadn’t even occurred to her, and it rather surprised her that it occurred to Colin. She hadn’t known he was so devious.
“Do you really think he has any secrets we could use against him? Something provable, not just rumors about his part in the baroness’s death.”
“I intend to find out.” He looked about the bed chamber. “Do you like the house?”
She shrugged. “Does it matter? My parents have already leased it for us. Don’t you like it?”
He shrugged. “Like you, I’m not sure what I want.” His gaze moved to the bed. “With a few exceptions.”
She was careful not to look at the bed. “Do you actually intend to live here then? I thought perhaps you went along with the idea so my mother would leave you alone.”
“I’ll admit that was a factor I considered, but right now you need to be kept safe.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, good. So you will live with me not only out of obligation but duty as well.”
He looked a little surprised by her outburst. “That’s not all.”
Daphne told herself not to hope. She told herself not to wish. He’d never cared for her. He probably didn’t have the capability to care for anyone. She’d never seen him express any strong emotion other than the rare flash of anger here and there. “It’s not?” she asked, cursing her heart, which sped up even as she told it not to.
“I’d been thinking I needed a place of my own for some time. And this location is more convenient to my club.”
Daphne stiffened. She would not say a word. She would not react.
“Not to mention, it gets a bit crowded at my father’s house when my sisters and all their offspring are in Town from the country.”
Daphne sprang to her feet. She couldn’t keep quiet. The humiliation of it all was too much. “So you want to live with me out of convenience? Duty, obligation, and convenience!”
His eyes narrowed as he rose slowly to his feet, wincing slightly. Obviously, his ribs still pained him. “It might be less convenient than I supposed.”
“I daresay it will.” She faced him, hands on hips. “I am not a convenience! Do you know how many men asked me to marry them?”
His brow clouded.
“I’ll tell you. Dozens!”
“Well, you did have a formidable dowry,” he said. Obviously, he did not realize how close she was to clobbering him over the head. Would he never see her as desirable, someone of worth?
“Fine. Then do you know how many men asked me to run away with them after you and I married? How many men propositioned me, wrote me love poems, begged me to return their affections?”
“I don’t think I want the answer to that.”
“But maybe you need it because it will show you that not everyone sees me as just a convenience!” She was shouting now, but she didn’t care. For his part, Colin looked unperturbed.
“I said the house was convenient. Not you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’d never call you that.”
“Oh, so now you insult me.”
He blew out a breath, his only sign of frustration. “So I’m not to think of you as convenient or inconvenient. What is it you want from me?”
“I want you to feel something for me! Something other than lust. Something more than indifference.”
He took a step toward her, his green eyes fixed on hers. “I’m not in the least bit indifferent to you,” he said. He took another step and she moved back slightly. “I’ll admit to the lust, but that’s not all there is.”
“Then what else is there?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
He stared at her for what seemed a very long time.
“Hate?” she prompted. “Love? Some other feeling?”
He swallowed. “I don’t know.”
Daphne closed her eyes. He did not know what he felt for her. He couldn’t even say whether it was closer to love or hate. This man, who was so much a part of her life and yet who had never been part of her life, couldn’t even answer a basic question as to how he felt about her.
She could not do this anymore. She could not keep hoping he might someday feel something for her, might someday want her, want to build a life with her. “I am done here,” she said. She pushed him away and walked toward the door, the tears she held back stinging her eyes. She would make some excuse when she was downstairs. She would tell her mother she was not feeling well and needed to go home. But she didn’t even reach the door.
Colin’s hand closed on her arm, his grip gentle but firm. She looked back at him, prepared to shake him off and tell him where he could go. Something in his eyes stopped her. Was it fear?
“I like your bows,” he said.
Daphne blinked. “Pardon?”
“Your bows. I like them. I like seeing where you will wear them.” He gestured to her dress, which had a row of pink bows from her throat to the floor. “I like thinking about untying them when we’re alone.”
She felt her cheeks heat but ignored the sudden rush of arousal at the image his words created. “That’s just lust again.”
“Yes, but lust for you. I don’t look at other women’s clothing and think about undressing them. I don’t even notice what they’re wearing.”
She nodded. “I suppose that might border on affection. What else?”
He gaped at her. “I have to say more?”
“Do you want me to talk about how I feel about you?” She wasn’t sure what she would say. Not the entire truth, that was certain. He would probably pass out if she told him how she really felt.
He looked as though he were ready to pass out now. “No! You needn’t start talking about your feelings. I’ll think of something else.” He put a hand to his forehead, pressing it hard as if thinking very intently. His gaze roamed over her face then down to her bosom.
“No more physical attributes,” she qualified.
He gave her a murderous look. “Fine.” He looked down, then away, then up at the ceiling.
“If this is too difficult for you—”
“I like that you’re brave,” he said.
She raised her brows. She didn’t think she was particularly brave. She’d never gone off to war and faced the enemy on a battlefield. Apparently, that was a good deal easier for him than this.
“You walk into a ballroom and never seem to worry that everyone looks at you and judges you. And the other night, you were ready to run off to St. James’s Street. Although that might have been more foolhardy than brave.” He took her other arm, so he held both of them. “Don’t give up on me,” he said so quietly she almost couldn’t make out the words.
She stared at him, and for once his face looked so open and vulnerable. And she realized she had been right earlier when she’d thought she’d seen fear. It had been fear, and now he was afraid she would walk away from him.
He felt something for her. She could see it now. He just couldn’t say it. Not yet.
Her first impulse was to throw her arms about him and kiss him and tell him she loved him, but that would only terrify him back into silence and stiffness. And she couldn’t risk his rejection again. So she notched her chin up. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll give you another chance.”
The fear in his eyes turned to annoyance, and she liked that much better.
“You may kiss me, if you want,” she said, her tone regal and long-suffering.
“May I?”
“I suppose.” She shrugged. But as soon as his hand came around the back of her neck, she lost all semblance of false apathy. He slid his other arm around her waist and pulled her hard against him.
“May I do this?”
She took a shaky breath. “If you must,” she whispered.
“I must.” He moved backward, taking her with him until he had her pressed up against the wall. She could feel his hardness pushing against her belly. “How is this?”
“Acceptable.”
“Just acceptable?” He slid a hand down her arm until she trembled. “Now, do you want me to kiss you?”
“Yes,” she murmured.
“You want me to tell you how I feel?”
She nodded.
“Then pay attention.” His mouth closed over hers, taking her breath away. She closed her eyes, holding on to him, and allowing the sensation of his lips on hers, his arms around her, to take over. There was more than lust in this kiss. There was passion and reverence and need. And just as she tried to respond to that need, he pulled back. He rested one arm on the wall and looked down at her. “When are we moving in?” he asked.
“Now?” she whispered. She wanted him to lead her to the bed. Better yet, she would lead him. She’d strip off his clothes and kiss him in all the places where she ached right now. She’d like to see his reaction to that.
His mouth quirked. “Too ambitious. The day after tomorrow.”
Daphne did not want to wait that long. She wanted him to do what he’d done to her this morning again. Now.
“Daphne!”
Daphne closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. It was her mother.
“Duncan said he would keep her busy, but even he has his limits,” Colin said. “Listen to me, stay home tonight and tomorrow night. Say you have an ague or whatever it is ladies say. Just be careful until you’re back with me. I can’t follow Battersea and keep an eye on you, and I don’t want to have to rescue you should he see a chance at abduction.”
“As though I would need rescuing.”
“Daphne! Where are you?”
“Just do this one favor for me, will you?”
The door pushed open, and the duchess stepped into the bed chamber. Colin looked over his shoulder, and Daphne caught her mother’s wide-eyed look. The shock quickly turned to pleasure. “Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Colin stepped away from her. “We were just discussing when we should move in. The house is perfect, Your Grace.”
“Oh, good! Well, continue your, er, discussion. I’ll wait downstairs.” And she was gone, closing the door behind her.
Colin looked back at her. “Well?”
Daphne’s own eyes widened. Did he mean to take advantage of this opportunity to—
“Will you stay home, stay safe, for a couple of nights and days?”
“Fine,” she said. “But this is my problem, and I want to deal with it. I’ll accept help, but I won’t sit home forever and embroider while you fix everything. Once we move into this house, my father will release my dowry. We can use that to pay the interest on my debt to Battersea.”
“No,” Colin said.
Daphne narrowed her eyes.
“We’re not paying him a penny. Besides, if you think he’ll be satisfied with that, think again. It was you he wanted all along. If you paid the debt and the interest, he would find another way. All the money in the world won’t be enough to satisfy him.”
“But you think we can blackmail him?”
“I don’t know. I hope so. I’ll know more when you see me again.” He kissed her lips briefly. “In two days.”
She wanted to pull him down for another kiss, but he stepped back and released her. She felt chilled without him, and two days of not seeing him seemed a long time. But then there would be the first night in their new home.
I’d make sure you enjoyed it.
Taking a deep breath, she decided she could wait just a little longer.