A Duchess in the Dark(17)

Once the song was over, his gaze darted around the room. Daphne and Wallingford were gone. Only her lace shawl remained, draped over the back of her chair, forgotten. He swept his gaze around the room. Somehow they’d managed to escape. Abruptly, he excused himself from Miss Wallingford, snatched up Daphne’s shawl, and cut through the crowd, straight for the French doors that led out into the garden.

The air was warm with a crisp edge to it, the grounds remarkably well lit. Hundreds of lanterns dangled from the trees, glowing in the darkness. Several couples strolled leisurely down the pebbled garden paths, enjoying the warm, fragrant air.

And there she was. Sitting on a stone bench with that bastard beside her. They were deep in conversation. A sense of dread washed over him. Wallingford had her hand in his and he was making some sort of declaration.

With each step he drew closer, his dread increased tenfold. As he approached, still some distance away, he caught the two horrid words, “my wife.”

He was proposing and, damn her, she wasn’t pulling way. It felt like a punch to the gut. After everything they’d shared, he was losing her…Hell if he was going to let that happen.

She replied, her tone too low for him to make out her words.

“Miss Hayward, there you are,” Ashton said. Her eyes snapped to his face and her cheeks flushed.

“Your Grace.” She stood abruptly, like a child caught doing something mischievous. “We were just—”

“Talking,” Wallingford finished, standing as well.

“I see.” Ashton turned a sharp gaze on Daphne. “May I speak with you privately for a moment?”

“Well, I…” She cut Edward a nervous glance. “I…”

“My apologies, Miss Hayward; I’ve been monopolizing your evening.” He kissed her hand—far too languidly—then straightened. “Of course you may speak with her, Your Grace. Excuse me.”

With a bow, he turned and headed back to the house. As soon as he was out of earshot, she glanced at Ashton, one eyebrow quirked. “Well?”

He draped the shawl over her shoulders, grabbed her elbow, and hauled her to a partially concealed spot in the garden—not concealed enough to arouse suspicion, but far enough off the path to afford some degree of privacy.

“Tell me you didn’t accept his offer.”

She pulled the shawl tight around her shoulders and looked down at her slippers. “I said I would consider it.”

A degree of relief washed over him at her words. She hadn’t said yes. Still, she was considering it, and that thought made his gut clench painfully.

“And he was forgiving of your indiscretions, I imagine.” He severely doubted that was the case. Men like Wallingford didn’t forgive such transgressions easily.

She shifted on her feet and looked away. Ah, there it was. “Not exactly,” she said quietly. “I haven’t told him yet, but I will, if it comes to that.”

Ashton raked a hand through his hair. He needed another cigar. “Has it occurred to you, Daphne, that you could be carrying my child?” His heart swelled with pride at the thought, but if he had any hope of giving the child his name, he’d have to shake some sense into her.

Her gaze darted over his shoulder nervously. “For God’s sake, Ashton, lower your voice. Someone will hear you.”

“What will you do then?” he continued. “Pawn the child off as his?”

That seemed to strike some sense into her. “Of course not!” she said. “If I say yes, then I plan to prolong the engagement until…” She let out a breath. “Until I’m sure that I’m not…that there isn’t…”

“And if there is?”

God, he prayed there was. The image of her round with his child made his heart ache. He realized then that he wanted a child—a child with her wide blue eyes and beautiful smile. A child they could love and nurture together.

He imagined his large, rambling estate filled with love, joy, children…Summers by the lake, winters huddled up by the fire. He wanted that with her: a life and a future.

She swallowed and smoothed a hand down her flat stomach. “I’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

“Don’t marry him.” Ashton felt desperate for the first time in his life. For once, he was in a situation he couldn’t control and it was acutely unsettling. He wanted a woman who didn’t want him back. Quite honestly, he’d never encountered such a frustrating dilemma.

She parted her lips, her gaze fixed on his mouth, as though contemplating another one of those passionate kisses. “Edward is safe. He won’t desert me or seek out another woman. He’s loyal and he loves me.”