The Handmaiden's Necklace (3 page)

“Shall I have one of the servants bring you a brandy, Your Grace?”

“Yes, I’d like that. Thank you.” It might help him make it through the next half hour, which was all he intended to stay.

The brandy arrived and he sipped it slowly, searching for a friendly face, seeing his mother and Aunt Cornelia in conversation with a group of other women, glancing past them to the round, powdered face of Flora Duval Chamberlain. His gaze lit on the woman to her left, a woman with flame-red hair and the face of a goddess. Rafe’s stomach contracted as if he had suffered a powerful blow.

His expression instantly hardened. He told himself he hadn’t come because of her, but seeing her now, he recognized the lie for what it was. For an instant, Danielle’s eyes met his and widened in shock. Rafe felt a shot of satisfaction as the color drained from her lovely, treacherous face.

He didn’t glance away, certain that she would.

Instead her chin shot up and she gave him a look meant to burn right through him. He clenched his jaw. Long seconds passed and neither of them looked away. Then Danielle rose slowly from her chair, flicked him a last seething glance and walked off toward the rear of the garden.

Fury engulfed him. Where was the humility he had expected? Where was the embarrassment he had been certain he would see in her face?

Instead, she walked the gravel path with her head held high, ignoring him as if he weren’t there, making her way over to where a group of the children played at the back of the garden.

Inwardly shaking, Dani fixed her gaze on the children playing tag near the gazebo, determined not to let her unnerving encounter with Rafael Saunders show in any way. She had taught herself that after The Scandal, how to take rigid control of her emotions. Never let them know the power they held, how badly they could hurt you.

“Miss Dani!” Maida Ann, a little blond girl with pigtails, rushed toward her. “Tag! You’re it!”

Danielle laughed and felt a breath of relief. She had played the game with the children whenever they came for a visit to Wycombe Park. They expected her to play with them now. At the moment, she was glad for the distraction.

“All right. It looks as if you have tagged me. Now…let me see…which of you is going to be next? Robbie? Or maybe you, Peter?” She knew some of the children’s names, not all. None of them had living parents, or if they did, the parents refused to claim them. Dani’s heart went out to
them. She was happy that her aunt was a patroness of the charity, which gave her a chance to spend time with the children.

Giggling, Maida Ann darted past her, just out of reach. Dani adored the feisty little five-year-old with the big blue eyes. She loved children, had hoped one day to have a family of her own.

A family with Rafe.

The thought made her angry all over again.

And sad.

It wasn’t going to happen. Not with Rafe or any other man. Not after the accident, the terrible fall she had suffered five years ago. Dani shook her head, pushing the bitter memory away.

She fixed her gaze on a boy named Terrance, a red-haired child about eight years old. Terry ran past her, just out of reach, each child rushing forward then darting away, secretly hoping she would direct her attention to him, even if she tagged him and he or she would be
it.

She played the game for a while, dancing away, bolting forward and finally tagging young Terry. Waving at the children, she gave them a last warm smile and made her way deeper into the garden.

She didn’t hear the footfalls approaching behind her until it was too late. She knew who it was before she turned. Still, she couldn’t help the gasp of surprise as she stared up into Rafe’s handsome face.

“Good afternoon, Danielle.”

Her heartbeat thundered. Anger made rosy circles appear in her cheeks. She turned away, rudely ignored him, caught the look of shock that appeared on his face, and simply started walking.

But the Duke of Sheffield wasn’t used to being ignored, and she felt the pressure of his fingers as they wrapped around her arm. His grip was firm enough to stop her forward motion and turn her around to face him.

“I said good afternoon. I expect at least a civil reply.”

She clamped down on her temper, told herself not to let him bait her. “Excuse me. I believe my aunt is calling.”

But he didn’t let go of her arm. “I think your aunt is otherwise engaged at the moment. Which means you have time to greet an old friend.”

Her fine thread of control stretched to the breaking point and then completely snapped. “You are no friend of mine, Rafe Saunders. You are, in fact, the last man on earth I would think to call a friend.”

Rafe’s jaw hardened. “Is that so? If not a friend, then how, may I ask, should I think of you?”

She lifted her chin, the knot of anger in her stomach almost painful. “You may think of me as the biggest fool you have ever met. A woman foolish enough to trust a man like you. Stupid enough to fall in love with you, Rafael.”

She started walking, but Rafe’s tall figure stepped into the path of her escape. His jaw was set, his intense blue eyes diamond hard.

“I believe it was you, my dear, I found with one of my closest friends. You who invited Oliver Randall into your bed, under my very nose.”

“And it was you who was eager to believe your friend’s lies instead of the truth!”

“You betrayed me, Danielle. Or perhaps you have forgot.”

Dani looked up at him, her eyes snapping with fire. “No,
Rafael. It was you who betrayed me. If you had loved me, trusted me, you would have known I was telling you the truth.” She gave him a thin, bitter smile. “On second thought, as I think of it, certainly it is you who are the fool.”

Rafe’s whole body vibrated with anger.

Good,
she thought. She hated the bland, uninteresting man he had become, so cool and unaffected. The sort of man she wouldn’t have found the least bit attractive.

“You have the nerve to stand there and claim you are innocent of the affair?”

“I told you that the moment you stepped into my bedchamber. The events of that night have not changed.”

“You were in bed with the man!”

“I didn’t even know he was there—as I told you that night! Now, get out of my way, Rafael.”

Fury burned in his cold blue eyes but she didn’t care. She started walking again and this time Rafe made no move to stop her.

She was surprised he had approached her in the first place. They hadn’t spoken since the night he had walked into her bedchamber five years ago and found Oliver Randall lying naked in her bed.

She had tried then to tell him that Oliver was playing some kind of cruel, terrible joke, that nothing had happened between them, that she had been sleeping until Rafe had walked into the room and startled her awake.

But for reasons she still didn’t understand, Oliver had set out to destroy the love Rafael had felt for her—or at least said he felt—and the man had brutally succeeded.

Rafe hadn’t listened to her that night, nor responded to any of the dozen letters she sent him, begging him to hear
her side of the story, pleading with him to believe she was telling him the truth.

As word of the scandal began to leak out, he never once defended her, never once paid the slightest attention to her version of events. Instead, he had abruptly ended their betrothal, confirming what the gossipmongers said.

Telling the world that Danielle Duval was not the innocent she pretended, but a scarlet woman who had conducted herself shamelessly, and with blatant disregard for her intended. She’d been shunned in society, banished to the country. Even her own mother had believed the tale.

Dani’s vision blurred as she made her way through the garden. She rarely thought of Rafael and those awful days back then. But now she was here in London and Rafe was tossing the entire affair back in her face.

She sniffed and fought back the tears she refused to let fall. She wouldn’t cry for Rafe, not again. She had wept more than enough for the man she had loved five years ago and she would never weep for him again.

R
afe stood in the garden, angry and oddly disturbed as he watched Danielle’s elegant figure moving along the gravel path until she disappeared inside the house.

He didn’t know what had possessed him to seek her out. Perhaps it was keeping his silence for all of these years. Whatever it was, instead of the satisfaction he was certain he would feel once he had confronted her, he was more troubled than ever.

As she had done that night, Danielle had professed her innocence. He hadn’t believed her then and he didn’t believe her now. He’d read the note, after all, and he had two eyes in his head. Oliver had accepted Danielle’s invitation and he was there in her room, lying naked beside her in bed.

Rafe had called the bastard out, of course. Ollie was supposed to be his friend.

“I won’t meet you, Rafe,” Oliver had said. “I won’t fight you no matter what you do to me. We’ve been friends since we were boys, and there is no denying the fault is mine entirely.”

“Why, Ollie? How could you do it?”

“I love her, Rafael. I’ve always loved her. You know that better than anyone. When she asked me to come to her room, I found it impossible to refuse her invitation.”

Rafael had known for years that his friend was in love with Danielle, had been in love with her since he was a youth in his teens. But Dani had never loved Ollie.

Or so Rafe had thought. He had stupidly believed that Danielle loved him and not Oliver Randall, though Ollie had for years pursued her. After that night, he had come to believe she had accepted Rafe’s offer of marriage simply to become a duchess. It was wealth and power she wanted, not him.

As he walked out of the garden, he reminded himself of all those things, told himself that just as before, nothing Danielle said was the truth.

But he was older now, not insane with jealousy, not blinded by love as he had been in those days, not furious and aching with pain.

And because he was a different man than he had been back then, he couldn’t get the image out of his head. He couldn’t forget the way Danielle had looked at him there in the garden.

Without a shred of remorse, without the slightest hint of embarrassment. She had looked at him with all of the hatred that Rafe had felt for her.

No, Rafael. It was you who betrayed me. If you had loved me…you would have known I was telling you the truth.

The words nagged at him, gnawed at his insides all the way back to Sheffield House. Was it possible? Was there the slightest chance?

First thing the following morning, he sent a note to Jonas McPhee, the Bow Street runner he and his friends had used over the years whenever they needed information. McPhee was discreet and extremely good at his job, and he promptly arrived at Sheffield House at two o’clock that afternoon.

“Good day, Jonas. Thank you for coming.”

“I am happy to assist you, Your Grace, in any way I can.” The runner was short and balding, and wore small, wire-rimmed spectacles. He was an unimpressive man whose muscular shoulders and knotted hands were the only indication of the sort of work he did.

Rafe stepped back from the doorway, allowing McPhee into his study, then turned and led the man over to his desk and indicated that he should take a seat in one of the dark green leather chairs in front.

“I’d like to hire you, Jonas.” Rafe sat down behind his massive rosewood desk. The room was two stories high, with book-lined walls and an elegant molded ceiling. A long mahogany table sat in the middle of the room, lit by green glass lamps that hung down from above, and surrounded by a dozen carved, high-backed chairs. “I’d like you to investigate an incident that happened five years ago.”

“Five years is quite a while, Your Grace.”

“Yes, it is, and I realize it won’t be easy.” He settled back in his chair. “The incident involved a woman named Danielle Duval and a man named Oliver Randall. Miss Duval is the daughter of the late Viscount Drummond, who passed away some years back. Lady Drummond died just last year. Oliver Randall is the third son of the Marquess of Caverly.”

“I’ll need to make some notes, Your Grace.”

Rafe held up a sheet of foolscap. “I have all the information written down for you right here.”

“Excellent.”

Rafe set the paper down on his desk. “At one time, Miss Duval and I were betrothed. That ended five years ago.”

Rafe went on to tell the ugly story of what had happened the evening he found the note Danielle had sent to Oliver. He explained how at midnight he had gone into Danielle’s room and found the two of them together. As the tale unfolded, Rafe did his best to relay the information without revealing any of the emotions he had felt back then.

“Is there any chance you kept the note?” Jonas asked.

Rafe had anticipated the question. “Oddly enough, I did, though I can’t begin to tell you why.” Opening the bottom drawer of his desk, he moved the pistol he kept there aside and pulled out a small metal box, then fished out a key he kept on a ring in another drawer to open it. The note inside was yellowed and faded, the creases where it had been folded wearing thin. Still, it had the power to make a knot form in his stomach.

He handed the note to McPhee. “As I said, I have no idea why I kept it. Perhaps as a reminder never to be so ridiculously trusting again.”

McPhee took the note from his hand and Rafe handed him the list he had made of places and names, people somehow involved in The Scandal, however remotely.

“This may take some time,” McPhee said.

Rafe stood up from his chair. “I’ve waited five years. I don’t suppose a few more weeks will matter.” And yet he was strangely anxious to know what McPhee would find. Perhaps
he merely wanted the affair resolved, as it never really had been.

Perhaps he was thinking of the future, of his upcoming marriage. Perhaps he merely wanted the past dead and buried—once and for all.

With Caro’s help, Danielle packed the last of her belongings into her traveling bags, taking special care with the garments she would need on board the ship during the two-month voyage to America.

Dani couldn’t wait to leave.

“It looks as if we are done,” Caro said, always cheerful. “Are you ready to go?”

“More than ready. How about you?”

Caro laughed, a joyous sound. “I have been packed and ready for days.”

“What about Aunt Flora? Is she completely packed?”

Dani’s robust aunt bustled into the room just then, strands of silver hair, loose from its pins, floating around her pudgy face. “I am ready to leave whenever you are, my dears.”

Like Dani, Aunt Flora considered Caroline Loon almost a member of the family. At one time, Danielle had suggested Caro no longer needed to work as her lady’s maid, but could continue instead as Dani’s companion.

Caro had been mortified. “I don’t want your charity, Danielle. I never have. I am happy to work for whatever I receive. Besides, you and Lady Wycombe have always been extremely kind and generous to me.”

Dani had never brought up the subject again. Caro was happy to earn her way and Dani was happy for their friendship.

“Well, then, if all of us are ready,” Aunt Flora said, “I will
send down for the carriage.” Which would take them to the dock, then head back to Wycombe Park. Lady Wycombe would eventually be returning to England, but Dani and Caro would be staying in America, making their home with Dani’s future husband, Richard Clemens.

“Oh, this is all so exciting!” Flora bustled off to make the final arrangements and Dani looked over at Caro, who also looked excited.

“Well, I guess we’re on our way,” Dani said.

Caro grinned. “Just think—soon you will be a married woman.”

Danielle just nodded. She couldn’t help thinking of the last man she was supposed to wed and his terrible betrayal.

Richard is different,
she told herself.

And Dani prayed that she was right.

The ship prepared to set sail with the tide the following morning, a big, square-rigged passenger ship, the
Wyndham,
with the most modern accommodations available. The captain had personally greeted the women and promised he would look out for their well-being during the journey, since they were traveling without the protection of a man.

Dani tried to imagine a man who had ever protected her from anything. Certainly not her father, who had died when she was so young. Not her cousin, Nathaniel, who had made lecherous advances when she was only twelve years old.

Definitely not Rafael, the man who was to be her husband, the man she had loved with all her heart.

She wondered about Richard Clemens, but thought that it really didn’t matter. She had learned to take care of her
self and she would continue to do so, even after they were wed.

Danielle stood between Aunt Flora and Caro at the rail, looking out over the water as the ship prepared to sail. A late May wind chilled the air and whipped Dani’s pelisse around her shoulders.

“I can scarcely believe it,” Caro said as they watched the London dock disappear in the distance. “We are truly on our way to America!”

“What an adventure we are going to have!” Aunt Flora said brightly.

Though Dani was nearly as excited as they, she wished she could be more certain she was doing the right thing. She barely knew Richard Clemens. And after Rafael, she was far more wary of men. Still, Richard was giving her the chance at happiness she had given up ever having.

She leaned over and hugged each of the women, her dearest friends in all the world. “I am just so glad the two of you are coming with me.”

But she knew the women wouldn’t have it any other way. They were family. The only real family she’d ever had.

Now a new family awaited her in America. Richard and his son and daughter, children she wouldn’t have if she had never met him. She tried to remember his face, got an image of a man with thick blond hair and brown eyes. An attractive man, intelligent and generous.

They had met at Wycombe Park. Richard was in the textile manufacturing business and had come to England hoping to increase his accounts. He was a guest of Squire Donner, one of Aunt Flora’s friends who lived nearby. The
squire and his wife, Prudence, along with their houseguest, Mr. Clemens, had been invited to dinner at Wycombe Park.

That night, after an evening of cards and pleasant conversation, along with an hour of Dani and Prudence entertaining on the pianoforte, Richard had asked if he might call on her again. Dani had surprised herself by saying yes.

In the days that followed, they hadn’t spent a great deal of time together, yet they seemed to get on very well. And even after she had told him about The Scandal, Richard had wanted to marry her.

Unlike Rafael, he had actually believed her when she told him she was innocent of any wrongdoing in the affair.

Standing on the deck of the
Wyndham,
Dani felt the wind in her face as her gaze moved farther out to sea. She was lucky. So very lucky. God had given her a second chance at happiness and she intended to grab hold of it and hang on with both hands.