Daphne knew her niece was well-behaved. The fact that she sneaked out of her bedroom to join the ball must have been because of a small emergency. While it was Wilhelmina and Gerard who were hosting the ball this evening, Marianne had brought along her children as well. The babies were all supposed to be nestled upstairs in the nursery far away from the sights and sounds of the ball. But again, Daphne could not begrudge the little girl’s curiosity one way or another.
If my mother and father had been the type to host lavish events, I certainly would have done everything in my power to see what was happening.
Diana must have been of the same mindset as Daphne. Her hair was fixed in a fussy twist, and she’d managed to dress in a pretty, little pink gown with yellow flowers.
The girl glanced at her aunt, her eyes wide. She gave a small smile as if to reassure everyone that she was fine, then said, “John and Martin are throwing a tantrum, Mama. Well, Martin started it. He did not want to sleep. He wants you.”
“Oh.”
Marianne and Daphne exchanged glances. The latter was aware that if one of her twin two-year old nephews began crying, the other thought it his duty to join in. Otherwise, they were two lovely little toddlers. Then again, the boys probably woke up from their slumber, missing their mother.
“Go on ahead, Marianne,” Daphne urged. “I will tell everyone that you will be back when you can.”
Marianne sighed dramatically, but she wore a small smile that showed she did not mind going to her children. She loved her little ones dearly and didn’t really care much for theton. Attending balls, even ones hosted by her family members, was merely a matter of duty for the Duchess of Oakmere.
Daphne’s heart was full as she watched her sister leave the ballroom. She did not like being alone in social gatherings, but she knew her sister’s children needed her more.
The feeling of love and relief quickly dissipated as soon as she saw a cluster of couples heading her way. They must have sniffed the fact that their prey was all alone, with her fierce older sister away on maternal duty. She clenched her fists by her sides, her reticule dangling idly around one wrist, as she braced herself for the onslaught.
“We were just discussing your sudden absence, and now, reappearance,” Lord Salthouse, a Viscount who had once tripped over his own feet while leading Daphne through a reel, murmured. The words were meant to express how much he and his companions cared about her, but Daphne recognized the tone and manner. His smirk confirmed everything. “You were gone for a while, and people wondered if you were merely taking a break from Briarwood’s intense attention. Then, you were back, married to a Duke no less! What is your Duke like when he’s away from London?”
“My lord, I was not well. I needed some time in the country to recuperate,” she explained, trying to keep her voice calm and strong.
During the time she was talking, eyes were on her. They were not even pretending to be anything else than the vultures they were. Eyes were sharp enough, and they looked like they had claws that would soon grab at her.
“Awfully convenient,” Lady Hastings murmured. “That right after this time spent in the country, you found yourself wed to the Duke of Wolfcrest. Quite intriguing timing, indeed.”
The woman, only a few years older than Daphne, looked absolutely titillated.
Daphne knew what the woman was insinuating and the accusation filled her with indignation.
How dare she make such assumptions? How dare she?
“He is certainly handsome, though,” Lady Beechmont said. She was perhaps two decades younger than her own husband. “One could see why a lady would do anything to snatch him.”
The tone was still arguably against Daphne, but the woman’s voice also held a sense of wonder. She was truly curious, and perhaps even envious, of Daphne’s current station.
Lord Salthouse either agreed with Daphne’s assessment or he was just being vindictive. He leaned in, with a voice that was deliberately malicious.
“Oh, I do admire your ambition, Duchess. I am certain my companions would echo the sentiment. To marry the Duke of Wolfcrest so soon after Lord Briarwood was known to trail you everywhere… it cannot be mere chance. There is calculation in you, I wager. Your wedding was far too hurried. After all, why would a Duke behave in such a rash manner? No beauty simply compels a man of his rank to such action. Perhaps your aim was merely to silence scandal, for the man has more than enough to contend with regarding his… reputation. I must say, I am impressed. Refusing an Earl when your sisters are duchesses…clever indeed. Tell me, did you perhaps ensnare Wolfcrest by other means to secure your position?”
Daphne felt her whole body turn cold. The air around her seemed to have frozen. She could almost see the particles swirling around them. She observed the smirks on the women’s faces and could almost hear their thoughts.
She thinks she is better than the rest of us, but she is nothing but a trollop.
Daphne was no stranger to whispers and gossip, but she had never been so blatantly accused before that night. Her body trembled with repressed rage.
How could this man think so poorly of her?
Then again, she remembered her own mother all but accusing her of compromising herself with the Duke. Yes, it was indeed strange for a man who was as wealthy, titled, and handsome like Adrian to marry so suddenly. However, their accusations were false. She was just a woman trying to survive with virtue and reputation unscathed. She ran away from Briarwood only to be subjected to more rumors with the Wolf.
Her mouth opened, ready to give a scathing remark at the fifty-year-old lord with the young wife. However, a shadow had already fallen over their little, suffocating circle. She did not have to turn to feel his presence.
Adrian was there, and he made it impossible for anyone to ignore him. He placed his large hand on the small of her back. The chill she felt after Salthouse released his vile accusation turned into warmth. No matter what she did, her body responded to him.
There was something different in him, then. An air of violence. Even with his notoriety, he had never given her any reason to be afraid. Tonight, though, she knew that others would have enough reason to.
“Lord Salthouse,” Adrian said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl that made the hair on Daphne’s arms rise. “I suggest you remember your place. You are in a room hosted by my bride’s family.Myfamily. Your words, your insinuations, have consequences.” His hand pressed firmly against her waist, anchoring her with quiet authority. “And you would do well to recall that you are speaking to the Duchess of Wolfcrest.”
