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Daniel felt the blood leave his face. How had he forgotten the planned trip to London, as well as the most nerve-wracking part of it should he fail to find a bride while still on Synne?
But he knew in an instant: Margery. She had so bewitched him the last few days that he had not been able to think straight. Or, rather, he had willingly lost himself in her. And had completely lost sight of what he needed to do, which was to marry quickly.
As if Gregory heard Daniel’s troubled thoughts, he leaned forward in his seat and dropped his voice to a nearly believable concern. “Erica is still in London, you know. I’d expected them to travel to Thrushton’s country seat for the rest of her confinement, thereby saving you the pain of seeing them while you’re in town. But he’s of a mind to stay on for the opening of Parliament, and so they’ll remain for the birth as well. I thought it wise to forewarn you, so you are not caught unaware.”
“There was no reason for you to warn me; their presence in London will not affect me at all,” Daniel managed, wholly unsure if it was a lie or not. If anything, he felt numb.
“Oh, well, that’s a relief.” Gregory smiled widely, clapping a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel flinched, an instinctual reaction where his cousin was concerned. He sent up a quick prayer that Gregory had not seen. The man thrived on people’s vulnerabilities, and used them to his advantage.
But those prayers were ignored. His cousin let out a bark of laughter. “Never tell me you still fear my fist, Danny.”
He should not. He was larger than Gregory now, after all, a man grown, a veteran of the war, a bloodyduke.
And yet inside he still felt that same debilitating fear that he used to. There had not been a corner he had not rounded where he had not tensed for the possibility of Gregory being in the room. There had not been a single moment while in his presence that he had not held his breath, waiting for the swiftly wielded words that would cut as deftly as an assassin’s blade, leaving deep wounds, yet done under cover of politeness so that no one saw them for what they were. And there had not been a moment while alone in his presence that Daniel had not expected a heavy hand to descend. Punches carefully placed, so the bruising would not show.
Gregory seemed blessedly unaware of Daniel’s tortured memories. He rambled on, extolling the glories of London, even though mere moments ago he had been attempting to dissuade Daniel from visiting that same city. But wasn’t this a much slyer way of seeing that Daniel did not visit the capital? He made certain to touch upon every one of the things that would cause Daniel to turn tail and run: routs and balls, musicales and the theater, meeting so-and-so in Hyde Park, which was apparently the place to see and be seen. The man could be lying through his damn teeth, for all Daniel knew. He didn’t have a clue what London was like, after all, and most especially not in the off-season.
But that didn’t matter. His cousin’s words were dredging up a wild panic in his chest that he was hard-pressed to contain.
Finally Gregory grew silent and looked about with a raised brow. “But I thought you had learned your manners, Danny. No tea and biscuits for your dear cousin?” Before Daniel could think to apologize, the other man gave him a pitying look. “Well, no worries. I’m certain you’ll master the social niceties. Eventually.”
As Daniel stared mutely at him, Gregory stood with a fluidity and grace that would have had Daniel envious even at his most hale and hearty. “But I’d best be on my way. I’ve a mind to see this quaint little town while I’m here. Don’t get up on my account,” he continued when Daniel made to rise. Again, that pitying look. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt that leg of yours, after all.”
As Gregory headed for the drawing room door, whistling jauntily, Daniel finally managed to speak up. “Will we be seeing you again?”
His cousin paused and looked back at Daniel with unbridled humor, letting loose a gay laugh. “Oh, you are a funny one, Danny. As if I would come all this way for a single visit, and without even a drop of refreshments.” He grinned, almost a feral baring of teeth, all the pleasantness seeming to have been leached from it. “I’ve already taken a nice little room at the Master-at-Arms Inn, and so yes, Cousin, you can be certain you’ll be seeing more of me. Who knows, mayhap I’ll be able to assist you in preparing for London and seeing Erica again, eh?” And with that he was gone.
Daniel sat dumbly for a moment, staring at the open door, listening as his cousin exited the house in that boisterous, cheerful way of his that never failed to grate on Daniel’s nerves. The man’s parting words filled him with a hollow dread, as well as a remembrance that it was all too possible he might see Erica in London. Although there was little chance she would be out much in public, being so close to her confinement, a vivid image nevertheless popped into his mind then, of meeting Erica face-to-face, of seeing with his own eyes her swollen stomach, her contentment with Thrushton—and perhaps a vague pity and disgust in her eyes, as well as a deep relief that she had escaped having to make a life with Daniel.
To his shock, however, that possibility did not have the power it used to. Instead, it was quickly replaced by another: Margery, glorious and glowing, and heavy withhischild. And his heart ached for that.
He recoiled as if burned. He saw now that the love he’d had for Erica was pale in comparison to what he was beginning to feel for Margery.
Erica had been beautiful, and graceful, and at ease with everyone. Everything that Daniel had not been. She’d dazzled him, like a star. But he had only known her by her social persona; he hadn’t known who she truly was beneath the glittering exterior. His affection for her had been unformed, a mere bit of clay.
But with Margery, he was beginning to know her heart. His affections for her were being formed like a vase on a potter’s wheel, growing more complete with every conversation, every shared laugh, every glance. Every kiss. And he wanted so much more of that with her.
In the next moment he cursed himself for being the biggest fool alive. He had done the one thing he had vowed never to do, had put his guard down and let his emotions guide him. If he wanted to keep Gregory from eventually getting his hands on the dukedom, he had to secure a bride, and an heir. And by falling in love with Margery, who had proclaimed she would never marry, who was so against marrying again that she would hire herself out to him to find him a bride, though she was willing to take him to her bed, he would essentially be shooting himself in the foot.
He blanched then. Love Margery? Surely he didn’t. Theirs was a temporary affair. They had agreed on just that. And hadn’t he determined that he would never put himself in the position of loving another? Hadn’t he promised himself, with his broken heart and shattered dreams, that he would never grow close to another person again?
A numbness spread over him and seeped down to his very bones. His days of idyllic happiness were over. London or no London, he could not allow himself to continue falling in love with Margery. It was time to choose a wife, to marry. And to leave Synne—and Margery—behind for good.
***
Anticipation filled Margery as the carriage approached Seacliff. She had been gone the better part of the day, visiting Swallowhill and offering what help she could with Clara and the babe. But though she’d been kept happily busy, though she’d enjoyed the time spent with her family, the hours had dragged. She couldn’t stop thinking of Daniel.
And as the carriage rocked to a halt and she descended to the drive and entered the house, she felt quite honestly as if she were coming home.
Which shouldn’t surprise her. She had been a resident at Seacliff since Lenora and Peter’s marriage, after all, and before that had come to stay with her grandmother more times than she could count. But there was something different in the feeling just then, a warmth deep in her chest, a certainty that she had finally found her place.
She rushed into the house, up the stairs, down the upper hallway to her room, eager to change out of her clothes and join the rest of the household for dinner. She certainly didn’t expect to see Daniel’s door ajar. Nor did she expect to see him within.
He stood at the window, his back to her, seemingly focused on the garden below. Smiling to herself, mischief rearing up like a naughty child whispering in her ear, she crept up behind him. So engrossed was he in the view he didn’t hear her approach. When she reached him she snaked her arms about his waist, felt his start of surprise as she rested her cheek on his broad back.
“Hello. Did you miss me?” she murmured.
“Mrs. Kitteridge.”
