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Something about Elizabeth’s tone gave Harwick pause. He turned, eyes narrowed on his wife’s face.
“Happy? What does that mean?”
Instantly, she recognized her faux pas. “Only that Daphne has done everything you’ve demanded for twenty years. It’s time she was allowed to pursue her own life.”
“Her own life?” Suspicion tempered outrage. “She’s been sneaking off to visit that weak-minded vicar since she was a child. Why would those visits suddenly alter her life?” He bore down on his wife in a flash, one hand closing around her throat. “Tell me, Elizabeth, what are Daphne and the vicar planning?”
“I didn’t mean the vicar,” Elizabeth denied, her eyes wide with terror. “I meant—” She broke off.
“Who?” His grip tightened. “Who else could Daphne be consorting with.” A new thought struck. “Thornton?” His affirmation came in the acceleration of Elizabeth’s pulse. “It is Thornton, isn’t it? Is that why he asked for Daphne earlier today when he invaded my home?”
Elizabeth sucked in air. “The duke came to see you. He plans to return to Tragmore later this afternoon. He asked me to tell you so.”
“Did he? And whom will he be visiting, Daphne or me?”
Again, silence.
“Why did he want to see our daughter?” A muscle flexed in Tragmore’s cheek. “Is that bastard involving Daphne in his attempt to bleed me? Is he?” His fingers dug into Elizabeth’s throat.
“Harwick, please. You’re choking me.” She caught at his hand, fought to free herself.
In one violent motion, he hurled her against the wall, watching with callous brutality as she crumpled to the floor. “I’ll do worse than that if you’ve encouraged her to deceive me.” He veered toward the door. “You’d best pray my suspicions prove false, Elizabeth. Else your life won’t be worth a damn.”
“Where are you going?” she whispered in a tiny, broken voice.
He turned, his features distorted by rage. “To teach our daughter the lesson of a lifetime.”
“She’s as beautiful as she looked in the shop window,” Daphne declared, holding up the flaxen-haired doll for the vicar’s inspection. “Don’t you think so?”
“I think you’re going to make little Prudence happier than she ever dreamed possible,” he replied, continuing their walk toward the schoolhouse.
“I know what one special doll can mean to a little girl,” Daphne murmured, reliving, once again, that long-ago moment at the House of Perpetual Hope—the child’s unforgettable stare as vivid now as it had been twelve years past. “I couldn’t bear for Prudence to be deprived of that joy.”
“I understand.” They trudged on in silence. “I was worried to death about you, Snowdrop,” the vicar admitted at last. “You were gone for hours.”
“I’m sorry. I expected to be back much earlier. But it proved more difficult than I’d imagined to find a buyer for Mama’s brooch.”
The vicar’s brows rose in surprise. “I would have thought the piece would be snatched right up. To me, it appeared quite lavish, a source of profit for any jeweler.”
“It was. The merchants were unanimously enthusiastic. Unfortunately, their ethics fell short of their enthusiasm. I had quite a time finding a jeweler who was even moderately honest.”
“I see.”
“In any case, I did finally locate one who, for reasons of his own, chose not to rob me.”
Abruptly, the vicar recalled something Daphne didn’t know. “Speaking of robbing, it seems your bandit struck again last night.”
She stopped in her tracks. “He did? Where? What happened?”
“From what I’ve heard thus far, he invaded the Earl of Selbert’s Mansfield estate, making off with a vast assortment of jewelry, silver, and notes. Coincidentally,” the vicar’s lips curved, “hours later the Mansfield workhouse was the happy recipient of thirty-five hundred pounds.”
“No one saw him?”
“No. Except for you, Snowdrop, no one has ever seen him.”
“Then he’s safe.” Daphne raised her eyes to the heavens, more grateful now than ever before. “Thank God.” She resumed walking.
“I see you’re still captivated by this altruistic hero of yours,” the vicar commented with a sideways glance. “I thought perhaps that would change in light of your feelings for Pierce Thornton.”
