Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
The Wolf entered the Harrington residence, his hand cupped around Daphne’s. Yes, he had agreed with his wife to come to the ball, but that didn’t mean he would lower his guard.
No.
Watching his wife was a priority over hating any type of enforced frivolity. His senses were still inflamed with the smoke and fire that crumbled his favorite gaming hell.
He had worked so hard to gain control over the place. It took years of careful planning, hard work, and pure attention to revenge, but it took only a few hours to see the place reduced to ashes.
His hand remained wrapped around Daphne’s wrist, his thumb tracing circles on it. It was not like the seduction he stealthily began at the Obsidian Card. Instead, it was a way to soothe himself.
“We are going to be all right, Adrian,” Daphne murmured.
Every time she said her name, his heart soared.
Her brilliant smile would blind a lesser man, and he was no longer certain if he was any bigger at all.
“They are watching us. They always are. At least, that’s something my mother prepared me for.
Let us not give them anything to talk about other than our grace under pressure and attention to one another.
” She squeezed his hand. “Come, gaze at me adoringly and pretend to be besotted.”
This comment prompted the Duke to chuckle wryly and with that, they were off and into the event.
Daphne somehow steered him toward her family. He was not certain if he should feel relief because they were heading toward familiar people, or guilty because he had just put their sister in harm’s way… again.
“How is everything? It seems that both of you are rather closer than the last time I’ve seen both of you,” Marianne asked, her eyes openly curious.
“We are closer,” Daphne said, pride shining in her eyes. He liked that he helped make her look like that. Happy.
“Oh, I certainly hope that you two are closer! I’ve seen how you were at the fair,” Victoria interjected. “I’m glad. I was so prepared to hate the Duke, but now, I wonder if I was wrong.”
“You do sometimes have to be wrong,” Marianne reminded her sister.
They all turned when they heard footsteps approaching them. Of course, it was Caleb. The marquess liked being noticed, but Adrian did not mind. The man was an ally and a loyal friend, no matter how many times he’d argued with him.
“Your Grace. Duchess,” he greeted and turned his gaze on everyone in the cluster to greet each of them by their titles.
Adrian could not help but give his friend a cold stare, as if to indicate that danger was ever present and whatever game had been unleashed between him and Briarwood was still ongoing.
“My lord, how do you do?” Daphne asked, giving the marquess a wide smile.
“I am finally doing well now that you’ve acknowledged my presence. Your husband does not seem to be happy to see me.”
“Apologies. It has been a difficult week,” the Duke admitted.
As if to emphasize just how difficult, Briarwood and a crowd of his followers gathered near the refreshments table, which was not too far from where Adrian’s group stood.
“You must know, gentlemen, that the Duke of Wolfcrest certainly lives up to his reputation,” Briarwood began, fueling his voice with theatrical malice. “He dragged his innocent bride, the sister of the Marquess of Grisham and related to various Dukes, to a den of iniquity. The Obsidian Card!”
Gasps met his declaration. Some of the men glanced at Daphne and Adrian, as if they could read the truth on their faces.
“Then, there was a fire. A reliable source reports that he saw the Duke and Duchess fleeing the scene. It seems that the Duke is so focused on protecting his criminal interests that he would think it right to risk his own duchess’s life!”
Briarwood was not the most likable of men, but it looked like people had heard of the fire.
Therefore, the report sounded accurate. Why would the Earl lie about something that people could investigate for accuracy?
Horrified gasps could be heard, almost drawn in complete unison.
They were followed by judging eyes that didn’t even try to hide how they looked at Daphne and Adrian.
“How could he be so reckless?” an elderly viscountess murmured, sounding melancholy.
“He didn’t care about sullying his wife’s reputation,” another woman complained.
Everyone’s eyes seemed to be on them, and this time, Adrian did not think it was his imagination.
He kept his expression neutral, only slightly colored by aristocratic disdain.
He believed he should just let gossip die a natural death.
A part of him nagged at the fact that it wasn’t gossip that Briarwood was spouting, but rather, an inaccurate interpretation of the truth.
He didn’t want to bring his wife there, but he also realized that she wanted to get to know him.
Now, he wondered if the truth somehow made things better for her.
Daphne’s safety was his priority, yes, but he had never borne the taunts and gossip spread by others with good grace.
Before, when the chatter had been idle, he had squashed it then.
And now, his conviction was even stronger.
He would not allow Lord Briarwood to speak against her.
“Lord Briarwood,” he began, as he approached the Earl and his minions.
He paused a little to ensure that everyone’s attention was on him.
“One must commend your vivid imagination. It certainly is a talent that some do not appreciate. So, what then can I say about reports that a man of yours was found not too far from the burning rubble?”
Apparently, the Earl and his men had not anticipated the challenge. They had moved in this direction with the intent of provoking and nothing more.
When none of them answered his query, Adrian pressed his advantage.
“Flights of fancy can be quite common, I believe,” Adrian continued, as his lips curled into a disdainful smile.
“It is especially true for men who have become too desperate to save face. I feel terrible that such men may not achieve what they want, unless it’s by force. Business. Social acceptance. Women.”
Adrian did not have to hurl insults boisterously. He spoke with calm steadiness, with a voice that was not even forceful, yet the words that came through were. They were dismissive.
The Duke’s words were followed by uneasy chuckles and nervous coughs.
Adrian had managed to reframe the incident.
He could already imagine that one of the local gossip sheets would mention the moment between him and Briarwood.
They did not have to dig deep to find out that the Earl had been envious.
Adrian had managed to shift the attention toward Briarwood.
“Brilliantly done, Your Grace,” Daphne murmured. Again, Adrian could hear pride in her voice. But something else was there too. Relief.
Unfortunately, that relief was short-lived.
Her brother, the Marquess of Grisham, Daniel, rushed to her side. He didn’t look pleased, which seemed reminiscent of the first time he and the Duke had met. He leaned in toward his sister.
“Daphne,” he whispered a little harshly, his eyes flicking at Adrian with suspicion. “Was Briarwood telling the truth?”
“Not here, Daniel,” she whispered back urgently. “Not now.”
Daniel straightened. His face had hardened, taking on the role of Marquess of Grisham, a position left by his father, a cruel man.
“Your Grace,” Daniel addressed his brother-in-law. “I wish to speak with you and Daphne. In private.”