The Handmaiden's Necklace. Kat Martin

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      Dani stared into the bluest eyes she had ever seen, eyes she would never forget. Her chest tightened almost painfully.

      “Mr. Clemens,” Rafael said, making Richard a very formal bow. “Miss Duval.” His eyes fixed on hers and for an instant she couldn’t look away.

      Dani couldn’t talk, couldn’t form a single word. She just kept staring, her hand trembling on Richard’s sleeve. When he turned to look at her, he must have seen the pallor of her face.

      “Darling, are you all right?”

      Dani wet her lips, her mouth gone completely dry. “I am…I am happy to make your acquaintance,” she said to Rafael, silently thanking God she had never told Richard the name of the man who had once been her betrothed. The man who had ruined her.

      Rafe’s eyes remained on hers. “The pleasure is mine, I assure you, Miss Duval.”

      She dragged her gaze away, ignored the wild beating of her heart, and glanced frantically around the room in search of an avenue of escape. “I—I’m terribly sorry. I’m afraid I am feeling overly warm. I think I could use a breath of fresh air.”

      Richard slid an arm around her waist. “Here, let me escort you. A moment on the terrace and I’m sure you’ll be right as rain.” Guiding her toward the French doors leading out into the garden, Richard led her across the room. Several people glanced their way, but Dani barely saw them. Her mind was spinning, her stomach tied into a knot.

      Rafael had followed her. She couldn’t think of any other explanation. Why had he come? What did he want?

      Did he hate her so much that he had come to ruin her chance for a new life with Richard?

      Dani clamped down on a moment of fear and prayed there was some other reason Rafael had traveled all the way to America.

      Rafe watched Danielle leave the parlor and wished he had handled things differently. She looked so pale, so shaken. Then again, what had he expected?

      Not that he’d had any choice.

      Before he’d set sail, he had done his best to discover any information that might help him find her, but there simply wasn’t enough time. He knew the name of her ship, the Wyndham, and that she had sailed to Philadelphia, where her fiancé, a wealthy manufacturer, apparently had a home.

      Beyond that, he didn’t know exactly where to look for her. Instead, he had arrived in the city with letters of introduction engineered by Howard Pendleton, a close family friend. Letters from men of influence in London with friends in Philadelphia who might be able to help him find Danielle.

      Howard Pendleton, an army colonel who worked in the British War Office, had helped Cord and Rafe bring Ethan home from France, where he had been imprisoned. Through Ethan, Pendleton had heard of Rafe’s intended journey and come to him with an offer of assistance—but there was a favor he wanted in return.

      “Rumors have been surfacing,” the colonel had said, “whispers that a venture may be in the making between the Americans and the French. A deal that would be of great benefit to Napoléon. We need your help, Your Grace. If you agree, you won’t be on your own. You’ll have Max Bradley to assist you.”

      Rafe knew Bradley well, knew how good he was, and that he was a man to count on. England had been fighting the French for years. Thousands of British lives had been lost.

      Rafe agreed to help in any way he could and received the colonel’s assistance in return, which included the letters of introduction. When Rafe set sail aboard the Triumph, one of the newest ships in the Belford shipping fleet, Max Bradley sailed with him, a man who worked undercover for the War Office—a polite way of saying that Max was a British spy.

      In the days since their arrival, Bradley had gone underground in search of information, and Rafe had used the letters to find someone who could lead him to Dani. He had been introduced to Marcus Whitman, a close friend of Richard Clemens, and secured an invitation to the house party Whitman was holding in honor of the bride and groom.

      Rafe stared off toward the terrace, his chest feeling heavy. In her gold brocade gown, with her glorious red hair swept up, Danielle looked even more beautiful tonight than she had the last time he had seen her.

      Still, as he had watched her moving around the room on the arm of the man she was to marry, there wasn’t a spark of joy in her lovely green eyes, not the least hint of passion. Perhaps, like himself, she had merely learned a greater degree of self-control.

      As he watched her disappear out of sight into the garden, he wished he could have found a better way to proceed. But he had wanted to meet Richard Clemens, to discover as much about the man as he could, and with the wedding just three weeks away, there wasn’t much time.

      Rafe made conversation with Whitman and his dark-haired, likable little wife, all the while watching the terrace door, hoping for another glimpse of Dani.

      “If it isn’t His Grace, the duke.” Flora Chamberlain appeared beside him, a round-faced little woman with keen blue eyes. “One never knows whom one might encounter, even all these miles from home.” She studied him from beneath thick gray lashes, her gaze coolly assessing. “It never occurred to me that you might actually come.”

      Rafe’s gaze met hers. “Did it not? You knew I would discover the truth when you gave Jonas McPhee that letter. Did you really believe I would let the matter rest without speaking to Danielle?”

      “You could have discovered the truth five years ago if you had made the effort.”

      “I was younger then, and extremely hotheaded. I was insanely jealous of Dani. And I was a fool.”

      “I see… You’re older now, not so wildly passionate.”

      “Exactly. When I last saw Danielle and she continued to profess her innocence after all of these years, I decided to investigate the matter and discovered, to my everlasting regret, that I had wronged your niece.”

      “Quite a surprise, I’m sure. Still, it was a goodly distance to travel.”

      “I would have gone to any lengths to find her.”

      “I’ll admit I hoped you might come. I believe Danielle deserves an apology from you—even if you had to sail nearly four thousand miles to make it.”

      “Is that the only reason?”

      She glanced away, out toward the terrace. “For the present…yes.”

      “I need to speak to her, Lady Wycombe. When can that be arranged?”

      The countess continued to stare off toward the garden, then she turned back to Rafe. “Come to my house tomorrow morning—221 Arch Street. Ten o’clock. Richard isn’t due to arrive until noon.”

      Rafe reached down and captured the lady’s white-gloved hand. He lifted her fingers to his lips. “Thank you, Lady Wycombe. You have ever been a good friend to Dani.”

      “Whatever you do, do not make me regret my involvement in this affair. Promise me you will do nothing more to hurt her.”

      Rafe looked down at the stout little gray-haired woman who had been far more loyal to Danielle СКАЧАТЬ