“You do your sister credit by speaking up on her behalf, Grisham,” he murmured. “I can see why you are so… protective. She is clever, sharp-edged in ways not immediately obvious. Yet, I have little doubt that one day, she will be my wife. Every bit of her will belong to me and therefore, we need not worry about what others will say about her reputation.”
“My sister will choose for herself,” Daniel replied, voice low but unwavering.
There was no mistaking the scorn he held for the Earl and Daphne silently rejoiced at this revelation. She darted asurreptitious glance at Victoria and noticed that her twin was poised as if she was ready to applaud Daniel’s proclamation.
Briarwood, surprisingly, looked equally pleased. His smile broadened, darkly amused. “Ah, but the choice is always easier when one understands the futility of resistance.” He cast a glance at Daphne that lingered longer than politeness allowed, his eyes glittering with satisfaction. “Do try to enjoy the evening, my dear Lady Daphne. It will be less pleasant without me watching over you, but I am certain your family will manage.”
He inclined his head, still holding that almost sinister warmth in his expression, then turned toward the door. His movements were purposeful. When he passed by Daniel, he made sure they brushed shoulders. Then, he paused to grin at Daphne before sending an almost jovial wink at Victoria.
Daphne cringed. Lord Briarwood was a menace. He moved through them as though each step was calculated to draw attention, to remind everyone present of his power and control.
“Good evening to all,” Briarwood added, his tone deceptively light, as if nothing had transpired.
Then he disappeared once more, leaving a silence that felt heavier than the conversation itself.
Daphne drew in a shaky breath, acutely aware of the watchful eyes on her.
“Daphne, you must beg Lord Briarwood’s forgiveness,” her mother broke the silence. “You must accept his offer. The man is wealthy and obsessed with you. This is your chance to marry well.”
It was clear that Daphne’s mother was eager to please the wicked Earl. Her tone was icy, and her mood was dour, but neither were unusual. For many years now, the Dowager had adopted this attitude when dealing with a child or stepchild who opposed her matchmaking schemes.
“No, Daphne! Over my dead body, Mother!’ Victoria yelled.
“Quiet yourself, sister.” Daniel held up a hand to silence Victoria. Then, he turned his own steely expression on their mother. “Lord Briarwood disrespected Daphne. He is a malicious man. He will not come near my sister again. I will not allow it,” Daniel declared, his jaw clenched.
Lady Grisham huffed. “You are so naïve if you think he will let this matter slide. Did you not see the way he strutted out of this very room? He was undeterred by your words.” She fussed with the peacock feathers on her turban, then fixed Daphne with another stern stare. “Briarwood is a determined man, Daphne. Do not shame our family by refusing him.”
“That is enough,” Daniel hissed, gesturing to the door. “Lady Grisham, you may return to the ballroom. I believe Victoria and the maid can tend to Daphne now.”
The Dowager’s lips pursed. She glared at everyone else before she left them without another word. The siblings exchanged wary glances.
Daphne’s hands trembled just slightly as she smoothed the folds of her gown, grateful that her brother’s presence shielded her in part. But Briarwood’s words, and the slow cruelty in his smile, were inescapable.
She would not forget them. Not tonight.
Not ever.
The next day, despite the fright of the previous evening, the Brighton siblings ventured out for a walk in Hyde Park.
Daphne noted how the air had grown sharper, biting at the tips of her ears and the exposed skin of her hands. She repressed a shiver, adjusting her muff. Winter was closing in; soon, she would require a sturdier coat. Yet for now, the crisp calm of the park and the quiet rustle of leaves underfoot had a strangely soothing effect.
While Daniel and Victoria veered off the path and walked toward the water, Daphne lifted her head and observed the clouds in the grayish blue sky.
“Good day to you, Lady Daphne,” Lord Finroy greeted, calling for her attention as he stepped lightly onto the path. His voice was polite, familiar, yet carried a warmth that made her cheeks tingle as she lowered her chin and met his gaze.
He had always offered kind words and courteous smiles, and still, Daphne felt that peculiar mixture of pleasure and dread whenever a gentleman approached her.
She knew, inevitably, what would happen next.
As if conjured by some unholy spell, Lord Briarwood appeared, emerging from the shadows of a tree-lined path, his presence sharp and commanding, his gaze immediately finding hers.
“Oh! Lord Briarwood,” Finroy stammered, bowing hastily. “How… lovely to see you, my lord.” He turned back toward Daphne, voice tight with forced composure. “Pardon me, my lady. I must… attend to a most urgent matter. If you’ll excuse me…”
And just like that, Lord Finroy retreated, hastening down a side path, leaving Daphne with her heart hammering.
Briarwood’s slow smile held all the menace of last night, and his eyes glimmered with that unsettling amusement that never failed to make her skin crawl.
“Do you believe me now, Lady Daphne?” he asked, tipping his hat with the courtesy of a gentleman, artfully disguising themalevolence in his words. “I shall chase away all other suitors. And I do intend to see you every day.Every day, until you have no choice but to accept my proposal.”
