Chapter 2

"Good luck," Melanie mouthed as Daphne set off to the gardens. Melanie blocked her mother's view, giving Daphne the freedom she needed.

Daphne's cheeks brightened with a flush, but she did not slow her steps. She knew where to find him. If the look they shared was any indication, he still felt something for her.

It was that look that made her grab that girl and shrug off Percy's touch. This was a chance she could not afford to miss, unless she was prepared to be the old maid in her family.

He recalled that night and he would wait at the same spot.

Her insides did several dances at the thought. She knew a man like Victor had too much dignity to forsake his words. He would not just leave without a good reason and would not forget his promise to her.

Daphne's smile widened and she bit the corner of her lips to retrain herself. In doing that, she remembered Victor's kiss and heat flared up in her.

She would not kiss him again so easily, of course. He would have to call on her in the morning, meet her parents, and set a date for the wedding banns to be read.

Daphne stepped into the night. Insects chirped around her, hopping from one hedge in the gardens to the next. Fragrant flowers filled her nostrils with their scents. As she took the first step in, her mind jumped.

She tried her best to hide the effects of what Weatherton had tried to do, but at times like these, it was simply inevitable. She ground her cold palms to her dress, wiping the chilled sweat that clung to it. Her skin was riddled with terrified goosebumps.

There was a path lit by gas lamps, but they had been there that night that Weatherton stalked her. They offered no protection. Thankfully, the man had not looked her way since the threats from Victor.

This thought reassured Daphne and she pushed through the debilitating fear. She made her steps light as she approached him. It was her intention to surprise Victor as he had her, on their first night.

She could already see the smile lighting his sinfully handsome face. Four years had done little to the man's appearance. If anything, it made him more elegantly roguish.

She would make him suffer a bit before letting him back in her life. He deserved it, for making her wait without a word.

Daphne picked up her skirts and moved faster between the flowered bushes. Male voices filtered to her and she came to a slow stop. One was instantly familiar. How could she forget the powerful voice of her savior?

"I said, stop it!" Victor groused. Something in his tone made Daphne stop. She slid behind one of the hedges and listened.

"Honestly, if I knew you would be so testy in love, I would never have recommended it," another man said in a light tone, followed by a chuckle. It was Harry. Her sister's betrothed. They were friends?

They had been together for most of the night; Daphne assumed Harry was paying his respects to the duke, as were others. They were close enough to share personal details. A surprise.

"I do not love her!" Victor exploded.

"Keep your voice down!"

"How the hell do you think a random kiss one night would make me fall for a woman? Me. When have you ever seen me fall for their wiles?"

Daphne's body ran cold. She held her dress in a death grip.

"And even if I were to love, why the hell would it be one as innocent and precious as that girl? I do not know about you, but I have needs that can only be satiated through experience. A cloying virgin is the least of my requirements. Understand?"

"Victor," Harry called softly.

From her spot, Daphne wiped angry tears from her face. Her teeth clattered against each other as shudders wracked her body.

"If you had not invited me to this hellhole of a ball, I would not have remembered her existence at all. You think I would spend four years of my travels immersed with one woman? Yet, you claim to know me well."

"So, your decision stands."

"It does. I have never wanted to be married. This title dies with me. Honestly, the sooner I get rid of it, the better for everyone else."

Daphne walked backward and stepped on a glassy ornament. It shattered under her feet, echoing into the night. The voices paused.

She ran toward the back of the building, seeking to take comfort in the darkness. She braced her back on the wall and wiped her tears. Daphne took a deep breath, steadying herself. She heard a sudden sound from the back and hurried toward the entrance.

Melanie had managed to get rid of Daphne's mother and was waiting for Daphne, almost bubbling out of her skin with excitement.

"What did he say…? Did he kiss you?"

Daphne's lips curled downwards. Behind her eyes, tears prickled. But she wouldn't cry; she wouldn't give that to him. She blinked a great many times to hold them back. She folded her arms and looked out at the crowd, seeing nothing and no one.

"Oh no," Melanie said softly, deflating. She slid her hand through Daphne's elbow and laid her head on her cousin's shoulders. "I am sorry for pointing him out to you."

"No," Daphne said, shaking her head. "I had to see that. It is better than to have my head in the clouds."

"How bad was it?"

Daphne opened her mouth as rage surged through her. "He is a swine, that is all. A cold, heartless swine. And I should never entangle with him. The worst kind of rake… I regret it so much. I wish it had never happened."

"I will not tell anyone about it."

"We should leave before they return. Where is Mother?"

"I will call her. Wait here."

Daphne gave a dull nod. Nothing appealed to her anymore. Her heart was heavy, like a rock had taken its place. It was her own foolish fault.

* * *

On his way out of the ball, Victor met a lady on the steps. She stopped, shot a vicious glance at him, and hissed. She swept up her skirts and ran toward her family's carriage. They had their backs turned so he could not determine their identities.

"Odd," he muttered. Generally, the women around here loved him. A little too much, if he was being honest.

"Sir, I have drawn your carriage," Ethan said, startling Victor from his reverie. Harry came up behind him and patted him on the back.

"So, you will be there for the wedding? Nothing has changed."

Victor shuffled his right foot. It really was not in his character to feel foolish but he did at the moment. He could not even look his friend in the eye. "You did not give me a bloody choice," he retorted.

"Remember that. It is a special time for me, and my best man has to be by my side."

"Blasted thing you did. You could not have chosen anyone else? Why did you have to put me in that position?"

"You act as if I have a noose around your neck, Victor."

"If you make me wear that necktie thing, yes you do."

Harry chuckled, "I have to bid Amelia's family a good night. I will see you tomorrow and about that…"

Victor hurriedly walked down the stairs, his legs whipping fast in front of him. He would rather swallow his own tongue than speak of Daphne again. He was home and in his bed in about an hour. Under the sheets, he closed his eyes and her face floated up in his mind.

It was not as it had been that night. A mix of fear and determination. Or the low trembling in her spine when their lips met. Tonight, he saw her face smiling up at that man in the red coat. She seemed happy, save for that one time their eyes met.

Best to leave her alone.

It was the proof Victor needed. If he entered her life, he would only cause misery and pain. It was the curse of being an Anderson. His blood had been tainted the moment he was born.

The morning came too quickly. He was drenched in sweat by the time his manservant came to call on him. Victor went through his ablutions, aided by his valet.

As he did every morning, he dined on fried eggs, ham, beans, and a cup of tea. All of it tasted like charcoal and the tea, like piss. He picked up the local newspaper and flipped through it until he came to the banns.

The banns were read every week. He stared at his friend's and Amelia Parsons' names. He waited to feel the thing that would compel him to want the same and it was not there. It was fitting for Harry, and Victor could not be happier for him.

"Your Grace, she is here again. Shall I tell her to leave?"

Victor retracted his gaze from the papers. The butler stood with his lips in a straight line and a displeased expression on his face. Victor restrained his laugh and pushed his teacup back.

"What does Miss Haversham want this time?"

"The housekeeper job, since you have a cook. She insists that you have to hear her out."

"Bring her to the drawing room, I will be there in a moment."

"Your Grace…"

"Yes, Dan?"

"She just wants to extort some money out of you. Your father always had her thrown out. She is here because she assumes you will be too soft."

Victor paused and said softly, "I am not my father. Never make the mistake of comparing us, ever again."

"Certainly, Your Grace." Dan paled, cleared his throat, and hurried away. The darkness that had overtaken Victor's expression slowly dissipated. He released his grip on the table's edge and the paper that was crinkled there thumped to the floor.

The portraits of his family members lined the hall, leading to the drawing room. At the exit, he was cornered by his mother. The dowager duchess had plans with the Queen's ladies. The diamond of the Season was yet to be chosen and there were discussions regarding the ones seen at the ball the previous night.

All of this information, Victor learned against his will.

"I could talk to her for you."

"It is just a woman after some money, I can handle it."

"It is a mistress your father set aside who has been flaunting it in our faces for years."

"Mother."

"I knew. You do not have to shelter me from these things, Victor. I am not a child."

Victor withdrew his gaze from his mother's weathered one. Even after all these years, she was still beautiful. The shade of her eyes had been the same blue as his. Now, the years had watered them down. The years and the miserable life she had led with his father at the helm.

Victor took her wrinkled hands in his, feeling their warmth run through him. "Have a splendid day, Mother."

She smiled, withdrew one hand, and touched his cheek, "I will. I think the Queen is close to making a decision any day now. The Season is in full swing. It has never taken her this long. Perhaps the news of her nephew is true after all."

"Her nephew?"

"They want him to pick a bride. The diamond will probably be his. If he is ready, which I certainly doubt."

"Why?"

"Well, a little bird told me he is in love with a maid. He was seen kissing her by the blacksmith's shop at night."

"Ah, that is unfortunate."

Dark night kisses would be the bane of all of them.

"It is. Everyone deserves love. Even you, my darling. When will you stop running?"

"I am not."

"I raised you, and you have always been the sweetest boy and now a wonderful duke. It pains me that you constantly allow his shadow to dictate the path of your life."

Victor straightened and released his mother's hand. "I should speak with Miss Haversham."

"You are running again."

"Good day, Mother."

The woman in the drawing room was hunched in a chair. She was half his mother's age and had silvery blonde hair worn long past her shoulders. Her face was round and soft, with an innocence that was misleading.

She shot to her feet when Victor entered. He ignored the single chair with the surface that his father preferred and took the couch opposite her.

"Your Grace, you should speak with Lord Fergus. I managed his household for two years. I gave them spectacular service. I believe I can provide the same for you, given the chance."

Victor stared at the woman for a few seconds. Her mouth slammed shut and her throat worked. "Miss Haversham, you should take a seat."

She did as he asked.

"You have five minutes. I want you to tell me exactly what you want. If…"

She opened her mouth. Victor raised his hand an inch. She closed her mouth again, her jaw trembling. Victor fought off the pity for her. She, like the other women, was a victim of his father's philandering. He would lavish his wealth on them, presenting the most charming front until he tired of them.

What was left was a woman who was starved of both attention and financial aid. Some remarried. Others tried to blackmail him. They were not aware that the duke could not care less about his family or their knowledge of his ways.

"If you misuse it, I am afraid you will not get another chance. I will not stop you from coming here, but this is the only time you will have my full attention. Speak."

"I…I…"

Victor leaned forward; his poise still relaxed. But what he did not know was that even without trying, his eyes made him seem fierce.

"Yes?"

"I…I deserved something!" she shouted. Victor showed no reaction. She got to her feet and paced the length of the room. "I gave that man the best years of my life. He would not let me bear children because he insisted it would ruin my face, and my body. He said he would always provide for me. How could he not have left a pin in my name?"

Victor craved a drink. He sat back and intertwined his fingers, "You did not answer my question. You have less than three minutes left."

"I need money!" She screamed. "I need to be cared for. It is my right!"

"How much?" Victor asked, softening his voice. He gestured at the chair. She stopped prancing about the room and did as he silently asked.

"Enough to pay for my relocation to the country and provide for the rest of my life."

"This part is very important, Miss Haversham. You will never return here. You will never have another contact with me or my mother."

"That will depend on the amount you are willing to pay, Your Grace."

"No, you are not listening. This transaction stays between us. If word gets out, I will ensure that you repay every dime and that you are thrown to the streets. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good, wait here."

About ten minutes later, Victor returned with the money. He handed it into her shaky hands and a smile bloomed on that innocent face. She started to speak again and Victor stopped her.

"You should go."

Miss Haversham held the bag to her chest and hurried from the room. He leaned back and rubbed the heel of his palm on his forehead. That was the last of the three. All of them compensated for the sins of his father. The money meant nothing to Victor, nor would it ever be enough for the damages.

One of those women had lost her son to the stumping feet of his father. That death was covered up because he was the duke and it was just the woman's word. It was all the man's fault and no matter what, Victor refused to apportion any blame to anyone but his father.

"Your Grace, the horses are ready," Dan announced.

"Get me a drink first."

"She has gone. How did you do it, Your Grace?"

"I would really like that drink, Dan."

"All right, Your Grace. The clothes for the wedding have arrived. Would you like to test them first before riding?"

The air in Victor's lungs was stuffed, tightening his chest. His gaze kept returning to that favorite chair of his father's. Hate for himself, the man, and his life was overwhelming. He needed that ride. He could not think about anything else. Especially not a wedding where he was guaranteed to see Daphne.

He could not see her.

He could not stand that his chest squeezed tighter at the thought that he could never have her.

"You know what? I think I will be going for that ride now."