Page 1
Chapter One
Upper Brook Street
Mayfair, London
Daniel Dalton did not attend society balls. He did not partake in small talk or dance with ladies desperate to pique his interest. He did not mask his boredom or laugh when he would rather curse. Whatever emotion charged through his veins, those within a ten-foot radius felt the power of its force, too.
But every man had an Achilles’ heel.
Every man had a weak spot that shattered his resolve.
Loyalty was the arrow that had brought Daniel to his knees. It forced him to betray his desires and do things he despised. It drove him to lie and deceive and tangle himself in a web of dark secrets.
And so, with gnawing reluctance, he stood with his closest friends in the Earl and Countess of Berridge’s ballroom, sipping champagne though he wished to God it was brandy. He tried to focus on their mindless banter, not the hostile letter he had received a few days ago.
Daniel ground his teeth.
That damned letter!
He could recite every word verbatim.
Could a doctor even prove a woman was chaste?
He could ask the man beside him. Gentry was a skilled physician, but then Daniel would be compelled to reveal a wicked secret. Besides, Gentry was leaving for a short honeymoon in the Cotswolds tomorrow and had only recently resolved his own troubles.
Instead, he knocked back his champagne, snatching another glass from the footman’s tray, all the while imagining a lecherous oaf touching a certain lady intimately on his filthy leather couch.
“What do you plan to do with your family home in Dean Street, Mrs Gentry?” Daventry asked in his usual probing tone.
Being the illegitimate son of a duke and owner of London’s best enquiry agency, few secrets escaped Daventry’s dark-eyed scrutiny. Thus, Daniel said very little in his presence.
“We’ve yet to decide.” Sofia looked at Gentry as a wife should: with faith in her eyes and love in her heart. “Given the terrible memories tied to the house, we feel it should be used for the greater good.”
“You could educate the poor.” Daventry was always seeking ways to help the downtrodden. “Teach them to grow medicinal herbs from their windowsills. Open up the house as a place to treat minor ailments. ”
Sofia nodded. “The body can be its own healer if one learns to master the mind. That’s hard to do when you’re destitute and without funds.”
Daniel’s shoulders relaxed somewhat. He did not shirk his responsibilities but faced them with the dedication of a soldier marching into battle. He granted his dependants every luxury—except perhaps his time. Had he done the latter, the threatening letter wouldn’t be burning a damn hole in his coat pocket.
“I might use the house as a refuge for ladies without means,” Sofia continued, her gaze drifting to someone cutting through the crowd. “A haven for poor ladies like Miss Tyler.”
Daniel’s heart stuttered.
Miss Tyler! Not his Miss Tyler, surely?
Had the minx carried out her threat and followed him to London?
The thought rebounded in his mind. Every hair on his nape prickled to attention. He straightened and craned his neck, keen to look beyond Gentry’s broad shoulders and confirm Miss Tyler’s hair wasn’t so pale it seemed woven from fine threads of moonlight.
Pull yourself together, you fool! The letter has you as jittery as a bird on a snapping branch.
But he had reason to believe his world teetered on the brink of disaster. With its sharp words and biting tone, the missive warned of a reckoning. The sender knew the threat would stir his temper and had crafted every sentence to provoke his fury.
Yet it wasn’t rage he felt when he caught sight of Miss Tyler.
His heart swelled in his chest as if stretching after a hundred-year slumber. Though she screwed her heart-shaped face into a scowl, and her ice-blue eyes were as hard as frost-covered stone, she was just as beautiful to him.
“Mother of all saints!” The comment was more a breathless gasp as the lady approached, the air around her charged with the quiet storm of vengeance. How the devil would he placate her without telling her the truth?
“Do you know Miss Tyler?” Gentry asked, his ears pricking like a wolf sensing danger.
Daniel shifted. “Her name isn’t Miss Tyler.”
Part of him wished it was. But he could no longer whisper her name with a sensual smile that promised something wicked. She despised him now. Anything she may have felt had withered and died months ago.
Sofia was quick to correct him. “You’re mistaken, sir. Miss Tyler is a member of The Burnished Jade and lists axe throwing among her many accomplishments. The countess has taken her under her wing.”
Daniel might have laughed, but Miss Tyler had every reason to whirl an axe at him and would certainly hit the mark.
“Does Miss Tyler hail from Chippenham?” Daniel asked as the lady marched towards him with murderous intent.
Sofia gave a curious frown. “Yes, though I believe she has Danish ancestry.” She continued to tell the fascinating story of a distant relative settling in the area in the Anglo-Saxon age when heathens and Christian men battled for supremacy.
He had heard the tale countless times. The only thing capturing his interest now was how Miss Tyler’s gown clung to her like a second skin, a gown as pale as starlight.
“Her name isn’t Miss Tyler,” Dalton growled when Sofia uttered the woman’s maiden name again .
With an exasperated huff, Sofia said, “What is it then?”
The truth clung to his tongue like a stowaway. The revelation would force him to reveal other aspects of a life he preferred to keep hidden.
“Mrs Dalton.”
“A relation?” Gentry asked as if wary of the answer.
“The lady is my wife.”
Amid the shock, where disappointment mingled with the bitter bite of betrayal, he met his friend Rothley’s gaze and conveyed a silent apology. The Marquess of Rothley loathed lies more than he loathed his late father.
Questions came thick and fast, tumbling over each other as his wife closed the gap between them. Was this a joke? When had he married? How could a man take a wife and not tell his trusted friends?
The latter was the voice of his conscience, but there was no time to reply because his wife came to a halt a few feet away.
“Hello, Daniel.”
Candlelight caught her white-blonde hair, transforming it into a shimmering halo of gold. She deserved better than to trawl through ballrooms hunting for her absent husband.
“Elsa.”
Memories flooded his mind. The tiny stones hitting her bedchamber window. Him whispering for her to meet him outside. Elsa! Elsa!
He imagined the wedding night that never was, him panting her name with carnal elation. You were made for me, Elsa!
Lies and lust were no basis for a marriage.
Elsa stepped forward, kissing his cheek softly, the brush of her lips so exquisite he could die .
Daniel remained rooted to the spot, almost forgetting to breathe, though a riot raged inside him: a war between guilt and anger because Elsa wasn’t the only one who’d been used. Nor was she the only person who had a reason to hate him.
Elsa rolled down her long silk glove, the gentle movement drawing his mind to the night they should have made love. He alone felt the palpable ache now. Indeed, he expected her to strike him and demand a dawn appointment.
She did something far worse.
She removed two silver shillings—a paltry sum that had bought him the world—grabbed his hand and thrust them into his palm. “I believe that’s what you paid for me.”
Doubtless she wanted to add, Is that all I’m worth to you?
Shame scrambled up his neck to heat his cheeks. She was never supposed to know. It was a secret her brother vowed to take to the grave. Just as no one knew he’d hidden her away in Henley-on-Thames.
“Now that I’ve settled the debt, I demand an annulment.”
The air left his lungs as he struggled to rouse his usual bravado. Arrogance would not temper her anger. To protect her, he’d have to lie through his teeth and compel her to return home.
Ignoring his friends’ confused stares, he captured his wife’s arm. “Excuse us. This conversation calls for privacy.”
“Don’t touch me,” Elsa hissed through clenched teeth as they moved through the crowd. She tried to tug her arm free, but he held her tightly to his side, his grip firm. “I thought the sight of me repulsed you.”
Another memory crashed into his mind. Her soft, golden hair splayed over a white pillow. The gentle rise and fall of her bare breasts as she lay sleeping peacefully next to the body of a dead man. Blood coated her fingers. Crimson stains marred her thighs and the crumpled bedsheets, and the hunter’s knife on the nightstand.
That one wicked secret had started all of this.
He led her onto the terrace and scanned the garden for a place to hide. Hiding was a recurring theme in his life. But this woman was determined to drag them both out of the shadows.
“Where are we going?” She fought to yank her arm free.
“Stop struggling,” he growled, heading for the large oak tree at the bottom of the garden. “As your husband, I need a quiet place to remind you of your vows.”
“My vows?” Her derisive chuckle pierced the night air. “The audacity. You’ve broken all the promises you made to me.”
“Not all of them.” He’d sworn to care for her and provide every comfort. “You want for nothing at The Grange. You have a generous allowance and Clara for company.”
A sharp gasp escaped her. Thankfully, they reached the oak tree, and he pulled her behind the thick trunk.
Before he could say a word, Elsa jabbed him in the chest. “You lied to me, Daniel. You let me believe the trip to Henley was our honeymoon. I expected to live at Thorncroft, close to my brother, not miles from nowhere at The Grange.”
Guilt sat like a brick in his chest when he saw the tears threatening to spill. “I had urgent business in London.”
“So urgent you would leave your wife waiting in a candlelit bedchamber on her wedding night? I was so wracked with nerves I could hardly breathe. You took my dignity when you left without saying a word.”
He closed his eyes at the memory .
How long had she waited? How many times had she searched the house looking for him before waking Clara or finding his note?
“I explained why in my letter.”
The rider had arrived at his home in Chippenham with news The Aurora had sunk off the Kentish coast. The other shareholders of Imperial Shipping had gathered in London, suspecting sabotage. But that’s not why he’d left.
“You could have taken me with you,” Elsa said, the deep lines on her brow a sign she desperately wanted to understand.
How did he explain she wasn’t safe in town?
How could he make her understand? She had been drugged and had no memory of the event that led to their hasty marriage.
“You would have been alone here,” came his next excuse. “I had to work with the salvage wreckers to recover the cargo.”
It didn’t matter to her; he could see that.
Nothing mattered but how badly he’d hurt her and the mistake he’d made in leaving her behind.
Had he married anyone else, he might have consummated their union, but he could not bed Elsa knowing he’d deceived her.
“You could have given me the choice, Daniel.”
“I couldn’t manage the wreckers knowing you were alone at home.” That much was true. “The Goodwin Sands are notorious for strong tides and shifting banks. One mistake could leave the men trapped beneath the wreckage.”
Amid the laughter and lively music from the ballroom, she stared at him. If she sought the boy who masked pain with mirth or the young man who nearly kissed her beneath an oak in the rain, her search was in vain.
“That was six months ago.”
It felt like six years.
Living with lies made the days seem longer.
“You weren’t the only person who abandoned me on my wedding day,” she continued. “Where is Magnus? I’ve not heard from my brother since he waved me off on my honeymoon.” Bitterness coated the last word. “He hasn’t replied to any of my letters. What did you say to him?”
Daniel stood in a dark corner of the garden. The warmth from the festoon of lights and lit braziers did nothing to banish the sense of dread. He had to persuade her to return to Henley until Magnus came home.
“Magnus is in Geneva. He rented a house with views of the lake so he could write in peace.” Magnus was hiding in Geneva, not penning poetry. “He closed the house in Chippenham and paid the staff a year’s wages to secure their employment until his return.”
She froze in disbelief. “Magnus left the country without telling me?” A whimper caught in her throat. “Without visiting or saying goodbye? Why?”
Daniel wished he could haul her into his arms and ease her pain. “He needed time alone.”
“Something you have in common,” came her tart reply. “Except you’re rarely alone. You manage your investments by day, gamble, drink and whore by night. How many women have you bedded since you married me and ruined my life?”
Part of him wished he was a rake.
Then maybe he wouldn’t feel so damn guilty.
“None, Elsa.” He exhaled, his heart heavy.
Sadly, not even you .
Wherever she got her information, it was far from accurate.
“None?” Her blue eyes flashed cold like an arctic frost. “How can I believe you when every word from your lips is a lie?”
“I may have left suddenly, but I mean to honour my vows. I’ll bed no woman but you.” He’d likely die without ever knowing how it felt to bury himself deep inside her.
She touched her bare throat. The gentle hollow at the base caught his eye. He’d dreamt of kissing her there.
“And I made a vow to be faithful,” she countered, a tear tracing a lonely path down her cheek as she stood firm like a true Danish warrior. “I’ll die with my virginity intact because nothing would persuade me to invite you to my bed.”
“I thought you sought an annulment.”
“I would have to prove you’re impotent.” Her gaze dipped to the placket of his trousers. “And though I’ve never witnessed the sight myself, I’m confident you’re a virile man.” With a sad sigh, she added, “Goodbye, Daniel. Don’t try to find me.”
Elsa moved to leave, but he caught her elbow.
They both stared at his thumb resting on the bare skin just above her glove, the hitch in her breath mirroring the ragged beat of his pulse.
“I can’t let you go.” The spark of hope in her eyes forced him to hide the real reason why. “I’ll take you home, back to Henley. I don’t know what you told Clara, but she must be worried.”
With a snarl, Elsa pulled free of his grasp. “Do you think I would leave Clara alone at The Grange, hurt and confused? I know how it feels to be abandoned.”
Panic flared. “You brought my sister to London? ”
“You left me no choice.”
“Good God. Where is she?” In the metropolis, danger lurked on every corner. “A blind woman wandering the streets alone is a sitting target.”
“Clara is not blind. She can see perfectly well with her right eye.”
Daniel clenched his jaw. “She needs a stick to walk.”
“Not anymore,” Elsa said proudly. “Clara just needed to regain her confidence. The accident stole more than the sight in one eye. It stole her zest for life, her hope for the future. She was so ashamed of her scar, she was in danger of developing a permanent stoop.”
His blood ran cold.
“Clara told you about the accident?” His sister refused to discuss it with anyone, least of all him. She had hidden herself away, seeing her disfigurement as another Dalton curse.
“She woke from a terrible nightmare. I soothed her and brought her tea. Keeping secrets is bad for the soul. She blames herself for what happened.”
It wasn’t her fault.
It was mine.
“What did she tell you?”
His world stopped as he waited for the answer.
“That she fell from Brambles while jumping a fence in the paddock.” Compassion flooded Elsa’s eyes. She never looked more beautiful than when she opened her heart to others. “Your father shot the poor horse because the fall left the beast lame.”
That was not what happened.
It wasn’t Brambles but Zephyr.
Daniel had been the rider, not his sister .
But he would not break the oath he made to Clara.
“I’m not sure the horse was lame.” He could say that much.
Elsa shivered like she sensed his father’s presence from beyond the grave. “Your father had a nasty temper. Doubtless he blamed the horse for hurting his daughter.”
“Blaming others was second nature to him.”
A strained silence stretched between them.
“There’s been a marked difference in Clara since we came to town,” Elsa boasted. “We’ve been here for almost a month. I needed time to gather the courage to confront you.”
“A month!” He pushed his hands through his hair and cursed his naivety. “But I only received your letter a few days ago.”
It was clearly stamped with the Henley postmark.
“I left it at the post office in Market Street. Mrs Abbott agreed to keep it safe until I sent word.”
Clever minx.
“Where the blazes are you living? What about Mrs Tate and Finnegan?” They were tasked with keeping his family safe. He would drag them to the Servants’ Registry and would rather rot in hell than give them a reference.
“We left while they slept. They’ve developed a fondness for one another. We let them believe we were heading for Chippenham but took the stage to London instead.”
Merciful Lord!
Finnegan could wrestle five men but had been tricked by two sharp-witted women.
“Why haven’t they sent word?”
“Perhaps they hoped to find us before you discovered we were missing.” She sharpened her tone. “You’ve not visited The Grange for months. They had no reason to think you’d visit anytime soon.”
“I had no choice. I had to stay away.”
“Because I’m worth nothing more than two shillings?”
He reached for her, but she stepped back. “You’re worth ten thousand times more.”
She blinked and shook her head in time with the distant strains of a reel. “I thought finding you would give me answers, but all I have is more questions. What aren’t you telling me, Daniel?” Clenching her dainty hands into fists, she cried, “Why is everything I’ve learnt about you at odds with what I’ve always believed?”
“I’m the man you remember,” he said, the words bursting from his mouth before he could reclaim them. Life would be easier if she hated him.
“The man I remember would not have won a woman in a wager. He would have throttled those who’d dared to dishonour me.”
Trust me, someone will pay for making me hurt you.
“I told you. I had no choice.”
“There you go again,” she said, exasperated. “None of this is your fault. You had no option. You were compelled to act.”
“Elsa, everything I’ve done is in your best interests.” He decided to plead with her, not make demands. “Let me escort you and Clara home. Give me time, and I will return to The Grange and we can put this problem behind us.”
Her gaze darted over his face, seeking the answers he hid behind an indifferent mask. “So there is a problem. One that would see my brother fleeing to Geneva and you offering a paltry sum for me.” Her throat worked tirelessly as she fought to hold back more tears. “Two shillings, Daniel? Not two crowns or two sovereigns, not coins with a regal connotation?”
“I didn’t pay two shillings for you, Elsa.”
“Clara said you did.”
How the devil did Clara know?
He might have said his sister was mistaken, but Elsa lunged at him and grabbed his hand. “Please. I’m so confused. My mind is never at peace. If our friendship meant anything to you, tell me something honest and true.”
He closed his eyes against a vision of happier times—her hair shimmering in the sunlight, her radiant smile stealing his breath, them lounging in a lush green meadow.
“On the morning of our wedding, I gave Magnus enough money to pay his servants and to rent a house in Geneva,” he said, hoping if he gave her a crust she might not demand the whole loaf. “I took over the management of his estate when his man of business resigned, as per Magnus’ request.”
Her eyes widened. “Mr Carver resigned? When?”
“Shortly before our wedding.”
“Why? He seemed happy in his work.”
A kaleidoscope of bloody images flooded his mind, fragments of a memory too painful to glimpse. “Carver left for a host of reasons I cannot explain.”
She firmed her grip on his hand, her countenance hardening like a shield maiden preparing for battle. “What are you hiding?”
The truth rose like bile, burning his windpipe.
He pursed his lips.
“Tell me before I’m forced to take matters into my own hands. I’ll travel to Geneva if I must. Or I’ll search for Mr Carver and demand an explanation. He was always so kind to me. ”
“Carver kept secrets too,” he hissed.
“Mr Carver never lied to me. He’s the one who told me my father made a series of poor investments and the coffers were running dry. Perhaps I should have married him, not you.”
Daniel’s resolve snapped. He grabbed her arm and hauled her against his chest. “If Carver was such a bloody gentleman, why did I find you in his bed?”