Chapter 4 #3
He turned back to Daniel, issuing instructions with a calm authority that brooked no argument.
“Make sure your family members are aware of the threat posed by Briarwood. Someone should also write to inform them immediately of these developments. They will benefit from extra vigilance until the wedding.”
The kitchen door swung open.
Daphne realized, only then, that the Nicholsons had left them to confer and had now returned with a silver tray. Both the reverend and his wife were smiling, innocent and bright. They had not dared to intrude during the planning session.
Plans that would entangle Daphne’s life far more than she liked.
“Tea for the happy couple!” Mrs. Nicholson announced in a cheerful tone. “And for you as well, Lord Grisham.”
Daphne forced a smile, taking the cup in her hands. Her heart, however, remained tight in her chest.
Every detail—the men, the secrecy, the Duke’s guarded words—echoed in her mind. She could not yet decide whether to feel relief or apprehension.
Perhaps she might indulge and allow herself to experience both in equal measures.
“You are certainly most kind, madam,” the Duke praised, his composure back in its full glory.
He bowed, and said, “Unfortunately, I must excuse myself, for urgent matters necessitate me to leave immediately. I will send a carriage for both of you on our wedding day, Reverend. Your lodgings for that night will also be in order. I wouldn’t want you to miss the day. ”
Daphne could not help but savor that one moment when the Duke showed some weakness.
“Your Grace, how delightful!” Mrs. Nicholson exclaimed.
Finally, the Duke of Wolfcrest turned to Daphne, lifted her hand, and pressed his lips to her knuckles.
She shivered, a tremor running through her.
“Until we meet again, my betrothed,” he murmured.
The contact lasted no more than a heartbeat, yet the air between them seemed to shift. Her chest tightened in a way she could neither name nor control.
What was it about this man that unsettled her so?
Then he was gone, leaving as silently as he had entered, like a dream slipping from memory.
The door closed gently behind him, a stark contrast to the abruptness of the Earl’s departure.
In his wake the Duke left behind the fresh scent of rain and cedar, stubborn and vivid, wrapping around her senses long after he had vanished.
“A special license,” Daniel muttered, raking his hair with his fingers. “What have we agreed to?”
Although costly, special licenses allowed couples to skip through the traditional public announcements that could delay a marriage for months.
The reading of the banns throughout London and all the neighboring villages would only attract more attention.
Daphne decided right then and there that she was pleased they might forego them.
“We may have witnessed the swiftest betrothal in Christendom,” Reverend Nicholson said with a laugh.
“To a Duke!” Mrs. Nicholson chimed in, clapping her hands. “It is so romantic for our dear Daphne!” Her smile broadened. “To think that just an hour ago, we were discussing the man as if he were a stranger. And now… well, now he shall be your husband, my lady.”
Daniel shook his head in disbelief, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he absorbed some of Mrs. Nicholson’s enthusiasm. Then, reaching into his coat, he produced a folded roll of banknotes.
“Please, accept this, as thanks for your care of my sister. Consider it a token of our gratitude.”
The Reverend shook his head firmly, smiling. “There is no need, my lord. Your sister’s safety and comfort are rewards enough. It has been our pleasure entirely to host Lady Daphne. Besides, the villagers care for this vicarage well. We want for nothing.”
Daphne’s lips curved into a soft smile. “I cannot thank you enough,” she said, stepping forward.
She wrapped Mrs. Nicholson in a gentle hug, feeling the older woman’s warmth and jubilant energy, then turned to embrace the Reverend.
“You both made this time so special for me. I shall not forget it. And I do hope, one day soon, that you will visit London. It would be my honor to host you in return.”
Mrs. Nicholson’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, Lady Daphne, what a delight you have been! I would count it a pleasure to visit, and I shall insist on it!”
The Reverend nodded in agreement, his gentle smile reassuring. “Indeed. And do not forget, my lady, that you are always welcome here. Our cottage may pale in the face of grand London mansions, but it is my hope you enjoyed the time you spent here, nonetheless.”
“I did, Reverend. Truly. Thank you,” Daphne nodded again, holding their gazes a moment longer before stepping back.
She glanced at Daniel, who gave her a subtle nod.
It was time. With a deep breath, she went to her room and swiftly packed all her belongings.
Once everything was ready, she bid goodbye to the Nicholsons once more and followed her brother into the grey afternoon.
The chill in the air brushed against her cheeks as they hopped into Daniel’s carriage. On their way out of the village, they encountered three men who handed them a note from the Duke, which ensured they were the men he’d promised he’d sent.
And so, the Duke’s trained men followed their carriage back to London.
Daphne’s thoughts wandered unwillingly to the Duke. He was entwined with her future, and with every step, the weight of that knowledge pressed closer. A part of her braced against it, while another, more curious part could not help but wonder at the man she was to call her betrothed.
After a few hours, Daphne was relieved to see her family’s home roll into view.
At the Grisham townhouse, the lamps glowed against the chill and gloom of a rainy afternoon.
The parlor was crowded, filled with a quiet hum of anticipation.
Daniel had summoned the family before venturing to the Nicholsons’ abode and it looked as though all her siblings had assembled in the interim.
Marianne stood near the hearth with her husband, Dominic, exchanging low murmurs.
Elizabeth and Alasdair occupied the sofa, her delicate hand dwarfed in his much larger one, a quiet comfort between them.
Wilhelmina lingered by the window with Gerard, her gaze drifting outside as if measuring the weather, but Daphne knew by the crease in her brow that Mina was contemplating something more serious.
As for Daphne’s twin, she prowled the room with restless energy. Victoria’s every movement was lithe and agile, her presence almost feline, as though she’d pounce or strike at a moment’s notice.
“Tell us what happened,” Victoria demanded, rushing to clutch at her.
“We had a… busy morning,” Daniel sighed. “As all of you know, I was on my way to the Nicholsons after my men informed me that Briarwood had set out for the village. I did manage to arrive before him, but only by a handful of minutes. He came to the cottage, demanding Daphne’s hand.”
“The cur,” Victoria hissed, squeezing Daphne’s hand.
Daphne squeezed back. “It’s all right, Vicky. Let Daniel finish.”
Victoria only pursed her lips. “Sorry, brother. Do go on.”
Daniel nodded. “As I was saying, Briarwood was insistent. But… well, the Duke of Wolfcrest showed up and changed everything.”
“Wolfcrest?” Dominic echoed.
“What was he doing there?” Gerard asked.
“Apparently, the village where the Nicholsons reside is under his care,” Daniel clarified. “He’d heard that the vicar was feeling unwell and come to check on him. And so, he stumbled upon the scene. Before I knew it, he’d declared that he and Daphne were already betrothed.”
“What?” Victoria gasped. “How could he…when did he? What does this mean?”
Her exclamation was followed by a few curses, causing her older sisters to widen their eyes.
“Vicky! Your tongue!” Marianne scolded, aghast.
“What do you expect me to say when another stranger makes a claim on my sister?” Victoria snapped back.
“I’ve met Wolfcrest only a few times,” Dominic said, eyes narrowing slightly. “Astute, perceptive, and undeniably charismatic. He is a man to watch closely. While I cannot speak from experience, I understand that Wolfcrest can sway hearts as easily as he can unsettle them.”
Daphne held a gasp. Her brother-in-law had just perfectly described the Duke, and she wondered if he was right about his presumptions.
“I’ve only heard of the Wolf Duke,” Alasdair added, folding his arms. “Not met him personally.”
“The Wolf Duke?” Daphne asked.
“Aye. Tis’ what Englishmen here call him,” Alasdair explained. “I assumed it was because of his title.”
“It’s not only because of that,” Dominic offered.
“You don’t have to meet a man like Wolfcrest to get to know him. He has a reputation,” Gerard said. “His wealth is rumored to extend far beyond the genteel ventures of the ton. His influence is widespread, going beyond polite society.”
“He sounds just like Briarwood to me,” Marianne said, wrinkling her nose.
“Have we handed Daphne to a man more dangerous than Briarwood?” Victoria asked, her eyes flashing.
“I have not been handed, Vicky. I accepted the Duke’s proposal,” Daphne countered. “I did it out of my own volition.”
“But… wait a moment. Daniel said he declared you were his betrothed. Nothing was mentioned about a proposal.” Victoria’s eyes roved over Daphne’s face. “Did you fall in love with this Duke while you were away? Did he offer you an honest proposal?”
Daphne shook her head. “The Duke offered his hand properly after Briarwood left. He swore that he’d protect me from Briarwood and keep our family name clean, so I accepted,” Daphne replied.
“Had you met Wolfcrest before Briarwood found you, or did he just happen upon the scene and interject?” Wilhelmina asked, after exchanging a look with Gerard.
Daphne hesitated, aware of how easily her family seemed to read her thoughts.
She swallowed, steadying herself. “We encountered each other briefly… last night,” she said meekly.
“What?” Daniel asked, his eyes widening.