A Duchess in the Dark(6)

“Miss Hayward is also fond of poetry, as I’m sure you know,” Ashton said with just the hint of a smile teasing the edges of his lips.

Daphne blinked at Ashton’s unexpected comment. How did he know that?

Edward glanced at her with a warm smile. “I happen to know Miss Hayward prefers embroidering to poems, as most females do.”

Daphne’s heart sank. She hated embroidery. Indeed, she’d told him as much just last week, when her sister had forced her to embroider one of her many throw pillows. She’d wanted a duck surrounded by tall, wispy grass. What she’d gotten was a drowning green elephant surrounded by shrubs.

“You don’t mind if I steal her from you, do you, Your Grace?”

Despite his obvious memory loss, Edward had an easy, carefree manner that adhered people to him. Ashton, however, stared at Edward as though he’d like to run him through with a sharpened stick.

“Of course not,” Ashton said tightly. “Miss Hayward and I will continue our discussion later. Tonight, perhaps.”

It was an innuendo, thinly veiled, and it seemed to escape Edward completely. Daphne, however, understood his meaning quite clearly. She couldn’t escape him forever. And when he found her alone again, he would get the answers he was looking for.

“Excellent,” Edward said. “Shall we take a turn around the lake, Miss Hayward?”

“Yes.” She shot Ashton a glare. “That would be lovely.”

The lake was rather large, and they strolled a good distance in silence, enjoying the scenery, watching several ducks glide across the water. She waited for him to broach the subject of last night.

She cringed at the memory of encountering him in the hall. Her reaction to his sudden presence had been less than ideal. Indeed, the moment she’d seen him, she’d squeaked like an injured ferret and darted into her bedroom, nearly slamming the door in her haste to escape.

He glanced at her cautiously and she gathered he must simply be as nervous as she was. But the topic must be touched upon. Her future happiness—their future happiness—relied on this conversation. She must confess everything, and pray that her only chance at happiness hadn’t been lost. She felt slightly nauseous at the thought. But there was simply no way around it. The discussion must be had.

“So,” she ventured, after the silence between them stretched to an uncomfortable degree. “I hope you won’t fault me for last night…”

“Not at all,” Edward cut in. “I was wrong to have accosted you. I’d only hoped…”

His words dwindled into nothing, and there was a long, uncomfortable pause. She pulled him to a halt. “What were you going to say?”

He smiled, that devastating smile that made Daphne’s knees go weak. He drew her to the edge of the lake. He glanced out over the water, then turned to her and frowned. “I’d only hoped to speak with you alone.”

Excitement thrummed through her. There was little doubt about what he’d intended to discuss alone, in the middle of the night in her bedchamber.

She’d been waiting to hear those words for two seasons, since their very first meeting in Hyde Park. She’d been thrown from her horse—or rather, had been dangling precariously from her sidesaddle as she tried to disengage her leg from the pummel—when Edward had gallantly rescued her. He’d pulled her from the saddle, and for a brief, almost timeless moment, she’d felt safe. Then he’d smiled, and she’d instantly been lost to his quiet, unpretentious charm…

Daphne smiled up at Edward. “Well, we’re alone now.”

“Yes.” He steered her toward a marble bench situated on the edge of the lake, beneath a giant weeping willow and took the seat beside her. “But last night I’d hoped to discuss intimate matters, not at all suitable for your brother-in-law’s front lawn.”

“Oh?” She managed to sound mildly surprised. Her heart raced. There was no mistaking his meaning. He’d wanted to bed her. Clearly he’d had the same thought she did—if she was compromised, James would have to agree to their marriage. Unfortunately, like a fool, she’d slipped into the wrong room and ruined everything.

Her stomach tightened into a knot—what would he say when she told him the truth, that she was already ruined? The gravity of what she’d done slammed into her. She might lose him forever, and for all for one innocent mistake.

The drooping branches of the willow provided a thin leafy screen of privacy. He looked at her, still smiling, and her heart thudded in her chest. “Daphne.” His smile slipped as he placed a hand on her thigh, his touch warm through the fabric of her dress. “Let me come to you tonight.”