The Handmaiden's Necklace. Kat Martin

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      “Aunt Cornelia?”

      But Cornelia was staring at the doorway, her mind a thousand miles away. Miriam followed her gaze, as did Rafael and his betrothed.

      “Speak of the devil…” Cornelia whispered beneath her breath.

      Miriam’s eyes widened and her heartbeat quickened, turned wildly erratic. She recognized the short, plump little woman entering the ballroom, Flora Chamberlain, Dowager Countess Wycombe. And she also knew the tall, slender, red-haired woman who was the countess’s niece.

      Miriam’s mouth thinned into a hostile line. A few feet away, her son’s expression shifted from incredulity to anger, deepening the slight cleft in his chin.

      Cornelia continued to stare. “Of all the nerve!”

      A muscle tightened along Rafe’s jaw, but he didn’t say a word.

      “Who is that?” asked Mary Rose.

      Rafe ignored her. His gaze remained locked on the elegant creature entering the ballroom behind her aunt. Danielle Duval had been living in the country for the past five years. After The Scandal, she had been banished, shamed into leaving the city. Since her father was dead and her mother had disowned her for what she had done, she had moved in with her aunt, Flora Duval Chamberlain. Until tonight, she had remained in the country.

      The duchess couldn’t imagine what Danielle was doing back in London, or what had possessed her to come to a place where she was so obviously not welcome.

      “Rafael…?” Lady Mary Rose looked up at him with a worried expression. “What is it?”

      Rafe’s gaze never wavered. Something flashed in his intense blue eyes, something hot and wild Miriam hadn’t seen there in nearly five years. Anger tightened the skin across his cheekbones. He took a steadying breath and fought to bring himself under control.

      Looking down at Mary Rose, he managed a smile. “Nothing to be concerned about, sweeting. Nothing at all.” He took her gloved hand and rested it once more on the sleeve of his coat. “I believe they are playing a rondele. Shall we dance?”

      He led her away without waiting for an answer. Miriam imagined it would always be that way—Rafe commanding, Mary Rose obeying like a good little girl.

      The duchess turned back to Danielle Duval, watched her moving along behind her rotund, silver-haired aunt, head held high, ignoring the whispers, the stares, walking with the grace of the duchess she should have been.

      Thank heaven the girl’s true nature had come out before Rafael had married her.

      Before he fell even more in love with her.

      The duchess looked again at petite Mary Rose, thought of the biddable sort of wife she would make, nothing at all like Danielle Duval, and suddenly she felt grateful.

      Crystal chandeliers gleamed down from the lavish, inlaid ceilings of the magnificent ballroom, casting a soft glow over the polished parquet floors. Huge vases of yellow roses and white chrysanthemums sat on pedestals along the wall. The elite of London’s elite filled the room, dancing to the music of a ten-piece orchestra in pale blue livery, members of the ton attending the gala in support of the London Widows and Orphans Society.

      At the edge of the dance floor, Cord Easton, Earl of Brant, and Ethan Sharpe, Marquess of Belford, stood next to their wives, Victoria and Grace, watching the couples moving around the floor.

      “Do you see what I see?” Cord drawled, his gaze turning away from the dancers to the pair of women walking along the far wall of the room. “I swear my eyes must be deceiving me.” Cord was a big man, powerfully built, with dark brown hair and golden brown eyes. He and Ethan were the duke’s best friends.

      “What are you looking at so intently?” His wife, Victoria, followed the line of his vision.

      “Danielle Duval,” Ethan answered, surprised. “I can’t believe she has the nerve to come here.” Ethan was as tall as the duke, lean and broad-shouldered, with black hair and very light blue eyes.

      “Why, she’s beautiful….” Grace Sharpe stared in awe at the tall, slender redhead. “No wonder Rafe fell in love with her.”

      “Mary Rose is beautiful, too,” Victoria defended.

      “Yes, of course she is. But there is something about Miss Duval…can you not see?”

      “There is something about her, all right,” Cord growled. “She’s a treacherous little baggage with the heart of a snake and not the least bit of conscience. Half of London knows what she did to Rafe. She isn’t welcome here, I can tell you.”

      Cord’s gaze found the duke, who was concentrating on his petite blond dancing partner with an interest he had never shown in her before. “Rafe must have seen her. Damnation—why did Danielle have to come back to London?”

      “What do you think Rafe will do?” Victoria asked.

      “Ignore her. Rafe won’t stoop to her level. He has too much self-control for that.”

      Danielle Duval fixed her gaze straight ahead and continued walking behind her aunt. They were headed for a spot at the back of the room, a place where Dani could remain for the most part out of sight.

      From the corner of her eye, she saw a woman turn abruptly away from her, giving Danielle her back. She could hear people whispering, talking about The Scandal. Dear God, how could she have let her aunt convince her to come?

      But Flora Duval Chamberlain had a way of convincing people to her will.

      “This charity means everything to me, dearest,” she had said. “You have been instrumental in all the good work we have accomplished and received not a single word of thanks. I refuse to go without you. Please say you will agree to your aunt’s one small request.”

      “You know what it will be like for me, Aunt Flora. No one will speak to me. They will talk about me behind my back. I don’t think I can bear to go through that again.”

      “You have to come out of hiding sooner or later. It has already been five years! You never did anything to deserve being treated the way you have been. It is high time you reclaimed your place in the world.”

      Knowing how much the ball meant to her aunt, Danielle had reluctantly agreed. Besides, Aunt Flora was right. It was time she came out of hiding and reclaimed her life. And she would only be in London for the next two weeks. After that, she was sailing for America, embarking on the new life she intended to make for herself there.

      Dani had accepted a proposal of marriage from a man named Richard Clemens, whom she had met in the country, a wealthy American businessman, a widower with two young children. As Richard’s wife, Danielle would have the husband and family she had long ago given up hope of ever having. With her new life on the horizon, coming to the ball at her aunt’s request seemed a small-enough price to pay.

      Now that she was there, however, Dani wished with all her heart that she were somewhere—anywhere—besides where she was.

      They reached the back of the elegant ballroom and she settled herself on a small gold velvet chair against the wall behind one of the urns overflowing СКАЧАТЬ