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“I cannot believe she had the nerve to show her face here,” Lady Pavenley said in a not so quiet whisper.
“She should be hiding her face in shame,” Lady Isabella agreed.
Daphne stepped out from the potted plant separating her from her former friends. It was the first ball she’d attended in a fortnight, and Colin had gone to fetch her a glass of champagne. Obviously, the gossip had been raging in her absence.
“Enjoying your evening?” she asked Lady Pavenley and Lady Isabella.
They both stiffened.
“I did hear you, in case you were wondering. But I don’t see why I should be ashamed.” She plucked at one of the pale blue bows adorning her sapphire blue dress. “It’s not my fault Battersea abducted me. And if he hadn’t, the information about the other women he took to that house and abused would not have come to light. Nor would Captain Gladwell have testified about the insurance fraud the earl perpetrated.” Daphne looked at her nails. “I do believe the Lords might just find the earl guilty of his crimes. And when that happens, my husband has promised to host a grand ball. I’ll tell him to take your names off the guest list.”
“Lady Daphne,” Lady Pavenley said, her tone placating. “I’m afraid you misunderstood.”
“No, I think you did,” Daphne said. “I never liked you—either of you—and I should have told you long before. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Mr. Murray a dance.”
“The Scotsman!” Lady Isabella exclaimed. “He’s practically feral.”
“Then I don’t suppose you want an introduction. I promised to introduce him to the ton. By the time I am through, he will be the most sought-after gentleman in London.”
“I’d like to see that,” Lady Pavenley sneered.
Daphne would like to see it too. She’d never really exerted her social power before. Now was as good a time as any. If she’d been sweet and kind, she would have said it was because poor Mr. Murray needed a wife. The truth was he’d become a daily fixture in her dining room, and the cook was complaining at how much he ate. It was time to send him back to Scotland, time to have Colin all to herself.
Because Colin was hers now. He trusted her with his heart, and she was learning to trust him with hers.
***
DAPHNE DANCED WITH Mr. Murray and then with Colin not once, but twice. He’d tried to convince her to leave after their first dance, pointing out that dancing with one’s own husband was exceedingly gauche. But Daphne retorted that as the daughter of a duke and the wife of a war hero, she was in no danger of censure. Finally, sometime after midnight, Colin convinced his wife to leave the ball and go home with him. He didn’t care for dancing, but he had to admit, Daphne was an exceptional dancer. And she had looked too beautiful to resist. Her new blue gown made her skin luminous, and her eyes shone brighter than ever. The dress showed far too much of her body, but then that was the current style. And he certainly liked how easy the current style made undressing his wife. Currently, she stood before him in a chemise, stockings, and nothing else.
“I don’t think I’ll go to many more events this Season,” she told him, sipping her wine before putting it on the table and moving to unfasten his cravat. “I’ve had enough excitement and gossip for a while.”
Colin raised a brow. He had no doubt she would change her mind about staying home when the next invitation arrived, but for the moment, he had her all to himself. She dragged his neck cloth free and unfastened his collar.
“I introduced Mr. Murray to half a dozen young ladies tonight. Certainly, I have done my duty.”
“You have been most generous,” he said, his voice low and heated. “Even Duncan was surprised when you agreed to help him.”
“I have my reasons,” she said. “I like having you all to myself.” One sleeve of her chemise had fallen off her shoulder, revealing most of her lovely round breast, and Colin was suddenly quite impatient to have his hands on her. He pulled her close and kissed her. Daphne kissed him back, laughing. “I’m still undressing you.”
“Later,” he said, kissing her again. “I’m impatient to touch you.”
“And what about me? I want to touch you.”
“Later,” he said again, pushing her back against the bed and tugging her chemise down about her waist.
Later, when they were both naked and flushed, and she lay warm and curled against him, he leaned close, heart pounding, and whispered in her ear. “I love you, Daphne.”
For just a moment, a bubble of panic rose up and threatened to choke him, and then she murmured. “I love you too, Colin.” And she snuggled closer and sighed. He sighed too, his body relaxing and his heart full.
When he’d hired young Jeremy Donnelly at Colin’s suggestion, the Duke of Mayne had remarked that he saw a change in Colin. Neil Wraxall said the same when he’d introduced Harley to him, though they hadn’t yet convinced her to leave her life on the streets behind. Colin was beginning to see it too. He smiled more. He laughed easily. He didn’t push his emotions away as often.
And tonight, he let them wash over him like Daphne’s scent. He thought he might just recognize the emotion he felt at the moment—pure, unadulterated joy.