Chapter 1

"My lady, I water flowers in my spare time — Wait!"

Daphne was dragged by the arm away from Lord Caine. A delightfully boring man who had been introduced by her mother. Her cousin Melanie's fingernails dug through Daphne's sleeves into her skin.

Melanie's face was flushed with color as she hurried Daphne into a corner of the exuberant hall. Gowns and gentlemen swished past, swaying in time to the music. But none of that caused Melanie to pause.

"Mother is going to kill both of us! Lord Caine was her last hope for me."

"Lord Caine only thinks about his flowers," Melanie huffed. "You were on the verge of faking a fainting spell."

"I would never resort to such juvenile means to escape an unpleasant conversation, cousin." Daphne said.

"Ah, so you admit that it was unpleasant?" Melanie retorted.

"That is not what I am saying. He was not all bad. At least I could have gotten a bunch of roses from the affair. Or those white irises I adore." They stopped by the thick, dark curtains lining the wall. Perfectly concealed from Daphne's mother. It was good because Daphne was not in the mood to deal with her mother's fury.

The last time that anger descended was four years ago at a ball like this. She had been introduced to a supposedly wealthy viscount and she ruined everything by running out to the gardens and was almost ruined.

Of course, she had never told her mother about the following incidents. It meant that, in her family's eyes, she had intentionally failed. An old ache pierced through her at the thought of that night.

Four years had gone by.

Not a single word from him.

"Now, will you tell me why you are acting like a complete lunatic?" Daphne prodded.

Melanie beamed, almost bursting from the seams of her dress. "Are you ready?"

Daphne caught the plague of her excitement and smiled back. It was inevitable. With Melanie, it was always something. From the discovery of a perfect shade of dress material to the tastiest snack she had ever tasted. Anything could excite her cousin.

She held Daphne's hands and shook her shoulders. "Now, he is behind you."

"Who?" Daphne attempted to turn.

"No! Do not turn so rudely. Do it with some style," Melanie cautioned.

"Daphne! Melanie!" A woman's sharp voice came. Both girls froze and looked over their shoulders. Standing by the side of a very imposing man, was Daphne's mother, the Countess of Wallace, Gertrude Parsons.

And her face was tight with anger.

She would be screaming the house down if the ton was not present. Now, she merely affixed a fake smile at another mother and marched toward them. She was not aware that Daphne was distracted by the man. He was speaking to another person beside him.

It was the same dark hair. The blue eyes. Tall figure. Broad shoulders. The softest lips.

Daphne felt the air drain from her body. It was the Duke. Victor. Daphne wanted to faint now.

"What do you think you are doing?" Lady Wallace barked at them in the lowest voice she could afford without arousing suspicion.

"Aunt," Melanie coughed, hiding behind Daphne. The coward.

"You must have a good explanation for interrupting Daphne's discussion with that gentleman, otherwise I will have to send you back to your parents."

"Mother!" Daphne gasped. "That is really too much. How can you threaten your niece in that manner?"

Melanie looked like she was about to cry. "I just wanted to show her the–"

"Shut it," Daphne said out of the corner of her mouth.

Her mother raised her arms. She always meant the best for them but sometimes she came off too intensely. Melanie could not be financially supported by her family to come out into Society. She needed Daphne's family. Throwing her out there in this manner meant her mother was at the end of the rope.

"Percy has been looking for you, Daphne."

Daphne groaned; her eyes kept flicking in the duke's direction. Her palms had become a sweaty mess. "Percy does not want to dance with me, Mama."

"Yes, he does!"

Daphne sighed, "Mama, you do not understand Percy more than I do. We have played together since we were children. If he wanted to marry me, I would be the first to know."

"He does not because you keep rejecting him and every other man in the city! Now go before I lose what is left of my temper. He is from a good family, well-behaved, and has a heavy pocket to ensure you are cared for. What could possibly be your objection? I do not want to hear it, go."

"I did try to court him once and he proved to me he was the exact kind of man I should avoid."

Those words died on Daphne's lips before she could utter them. Percy was like a son to her parents. They held him in the highest regard, but they did not know that side of Percy. The side that showed him to be an unreliable rake who had a woman up in his bedchambers when Daphne, his supposed betrothed, visited.

"Fine."

Melanie opened her mouth to speak but Daphne shook her head. It had been four years. If the duke wanted anything to do with her, he would have contacted her. She could not let her family hoist the hopes of her marriage on such a man.

Not unless she confirmed it.

She slipped past her mother and Melanie. The left part of her body prickled with her effort not to look in that direction. Victor was there and he had been talking with a widow who was wearing a flamboyant tiara.

It was easy to spot Percy. He wore the flashiest red coat. On his tall stature, it should have been an eyesore, but he managed to make it elegant. He caught her eye as she approached and gave a wide smile. He opened his arms.

Daphne allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

"Relax, Daph, I do not bite."

"Well…"

"I was eight. That does not count."

"Ah, I would still beat you at horse riding any day. No matter how much you wail and scream about the unfairness."

"Spare me some pride, our parents were watching. You would not shed a single tear."

"Terrible. You have always been terrible."

He paled, imperceptibly, "Daphne, I am sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you."

Daphne was pirouetted in his arms, when she faced him again. "I understand and I forgave you a long time ago, Percy."

Daphne's eyes darted about the hall. She found the duke talking with a man. The duke gave a soundless laugh, before lifting a glass to his lips. Daphne felt her insides quiver at the sight.

"What do you say? Daphne?"

"What?"

"I want to try again, with you. There is no better partner that I can think of. We know each other so well. It would be a wonderful union."

Daphne stumbled onto Percy's boots and their legs tangled. Quickly, he righted her. "Where is your mind?"

"I am not the best dancer, you know that." Daphne forced herself not to snap at him.

"Yes, but you were never this bad. I guarantee you have something else on your mind."

"The naked woman I found in your bed, yes," Daphne said.

"She was not naked…that is not the point. I was much younger and stupid. I thought marriage was a cage that would tie me off from such pleasures. It made me go wild, hurting you. But I promise, this time, it will not happen again. You have my word."

"Your word is unreliable at best. You have a good heart, but I do not think marriage should be on your mind yet. Could you tell my parents that?"

"I cannot."

Daphne jerked her head up to stare at his face, "Why? Why do you insist on this?"

"You are the best for me. It might take some time, but you will see it eventually."

"You are as delusional as you are rakish."

"You wound me, Daphne. But I will change your mind soon."

Daphne stepped back from him. The duke had just slipped away from his conversation. She wanted to speak with him, despite the nasty heaviness in her chest. It urged her to stay where she was. Following a man like Victor would be worse than being with Percy.

But Daphne's heart got the best of her.

"You can try. I have to get a drink."

"You drink now, too?"

"Why not? It eases the nerves, especially with all the preparations in the house."

"Your sister's wedding. I am terrified for all of you who have to be in close proximity with her."

"Do not speak of Amelia in that manner," Daphne chided half-heartedly. It was old news that her sister had the ability to escalate any situation and worry about everything while speaking about ten million words an hour, fast.

"In any case, I was invited. And I cannot wait to share another dance with you there. It is one of the few joys of the day."

"Are you bent on making me crazy?"

"I want you to see my heart. I am sorry. I will take any opportunity I can to show you."

"Sure."

Daphne tapped a girl standing nearby, took her hand, and joined it with Percy's. "Enjoy."

Percy had blond hair, bright, hazel eyes, and a straight, tall stature. The girl melted into his arms and even though he wanted to follow Daphne, he was a gentleman and would not leave the girl standing.

Daphne walked toward the man that made her heart race.

* * *

"Great heavens, Kensington, will you quit moping?" Harry exclaimed, nudging Victor.

Victor arched an imperious brow at his friend. Harry cleared his throat and turned away. "What is that on your neck?"

Harry peered down at himself with a smile, "A necktie, I am told. Amelia seems to think it makes me look dashing." The man actually preened.

Disgustingly sweet.

Victor would have rolled his eyes if he knew how. "You know she has got you wrapped around her little finger."

"Is that so?" Harry grinned scratching a non-existent itch on his jaw. "Perfect. When do you intend to speak with her sister? I had the guts to make my intentions known. I cannot say the same for you."

"You speak nonsense," Victor said. Then he looked across the sea of people and found her. The freckled goddess that had possessed his thoughts and heart for the past four years.

She was twirling about the dancefloor in the arms of another man. He supposed there was some kind of justice in that. He had ignored her; she belonged to another now.

"Sure, and that is why you have been brooding into your drink for the past hour."

"I have plenty on my mind. It comes with the title. I cannot say the same for you, having been leashed like a French bulldog."

"What is that?" Harry asked with a frown. "A bulldog?"

"A vague idea," Victor replied, recalling the animal he had seen on his travels. "Like that cloth on your neck, would you please take the damned thing off?"

"Will you speak with her if I do?"

Victor had known the man for ages. In Eton, he was the quiet child afraid to ruffle any feathers or spread his own. Amelia came into his life, and it was like a light went on inside him. "I think I should stay away from you."

Harry had the audacity to scoff at the idea, "And who would put up with your grouchy attitude if you do?"

Victor retracted his gaze from the dance floor and peered into his glass. "Who says I have need for anyone? I am perfectly fine."

Did he have to hold her waist so tight? Was that even appropriate?

Harry came to stand in front of him, blocking his view. "Tell that to the scowl gracing your face." He stared deep into Victor's face, making him uncomfortable. "You are still infatuated with Daphne, despite what you claim."

"Move," Victor snarled.

Harry took a leisurely sip from the glass in his hand, "you still write those heart-wrenching letters to her? What about the poems you composed in her name?"

"There were no poems," Victor snapped, irritation blinding him.

Harry chuckled, "Ah, so letters then."

"Stop it," Victor growled.

"No, this is too good. You wrote letters to a woman you kissed one night, four years ago. How the mighty has fallen! I wonder what our mates would think about this wonderful situation."

Victor saw that ridiculous red coat flash past, behind Harry. "If you dare…"

"I dare. If you do not tell her, I will broadcast your infatuation to them. Let them know that the cold bastard has finally been saddled."

"Does Amelia know she is to be married to an insane man?"

"I believe that might be the source of her attraction. So, what will it be? Should I write letters of my own?"

"You are insufferable. If you do anything to taint her name…"

"And the hackles are finally out."

"Idiot." Victor drained his glass and looked around for a surface on which to set it down. It was at that moment that his eyes traveled across the room again. There were frown lines between her brows. That buffoon with whom she was dancing was saying something imploringly to her.

He wanted to go there and yank her from him. He reminded Victor of an oversized peacock. But he was not like Weatherton, and he did not leer at her. It was the only reason he remained with Harry.

Then he caught sight of a gaggle of mothers. They eyed him with such intent that his skin crawled with the aversion. Daphne made him sway, but it was not enough to endure this farce.

"I hate these things," Victor griped. "I will never see the point of putting women on display."

"Look beyond that. Can you honestly not see the people laughing, trading jokes and banter, forgetting their sorrows, and dancing until their energies burn out? Families are created here. Alliances are formed. It is more than just an auction as you call it. All you have to do is look."

"All you have to do is look," Victor completed with him.

Harry executed that rolled-eye move with perfection. Victor supposed it was a by-product of spending time with his wife-to-be. Harry said, "You are beyond redemption."

"And you should polish the speech; it is the same every time. At least change the words."

"It is in your head now. Maybe that is my plan."

"To be the annoying, grating voice in my head? Thank you."

"You are welcome. Wait. Where are you going?"

"Anywhere far enough away from you," Victor griped.

"But she is here, that oaf is about to kiss her."

What? In full view of the ton? That would ruin Daphne's reputation!

Victor swung around, a little too fast. First, he saw Harry's smug face, which he wanted to punch. But when he looked further, he came to a crashing stop. His heart stopped and restarted with a violent, harsh beat.

The former dancing partners stood about five inches apart. Her gaze shifted from the idiot and clashed with Victor's.

Green sparkling jewels, set apart by a stubborn, perky nose. Full lips that could drive a man to insanity with one single kiss. A strong spirit and sharp mouth. His body violently recalled the feel of those hands in his hair, on his back. The feel of her soft chest heaving on his.

It recalled the softness of those lustrous strands of auburn hair, threaded between his fingers as he crushed her mouth to his. Victor broke the trance of their shared gaze with force. The glass in his hand shattered to the floor, causing gasps to rise about the room.

Servants swarmed to clean up the mess and Victor walked out with Harry.

The man she stood with had quickly taken her out of harm's way. She was safer with him. She seemed happy. What would she want with a broken person like him, who deserved nothing but the darkness shrouding his damned life?

Her happiness was all that mattered. The beauty she shot into his life would be treasured but never brought into the light. He was not foolish as to endanger her with himself as the weapon.

"Let me see your hand," Harry said softly.

"Use the necktie to wipe the blood now, will you?"

His friend gave Victor's shoulder a healthy slap. It stung but not enough to quail the disaster that was his mind.