Chapter 1 #3
Daphne’s pulse quickened. She had always known her brother would not hesitate to fight for her if it came to that, and the knowledge lent her a brief, fragile comfort.
But it did nothing to soften the way Briarwood’s gaze prickled her skin like a poisonous needle.
He leaned slightly, his stance carefully calculated to obscure the full expression on his face from the room. His slow, cruel smile stretched wider, then softened into something disturbingly benign. It made her stomach tighten.
“You do your sister credit by speaking up on her behalf, Grisham,” he murmured.
“I can see why you are so… protective. She is clever, sharp-edged in ways not immediately obvious. Yet, I have little doubt that one day, she will be my wife. Every bit of her will belong to me and therefore, we need not worry about what others will say about her reputation.”
“My sister will choose for herself,” Daniel replied, voice low but unwavering.
There was no mistaking the scorn he held for the Earl and Daphne silently rejoiced at this revelation. She darted a surreptitious glance at Victoria and noticed that her twin was poised as if she was ready to applaud Daniel’s proclamation.
Briarwood, surprisingly, looked equally pleased.
His smile broadened, darkly amused. “Ah, but the choice is always easier when one understands the futility of resistance.” He cast a glance at Daphne that lingered longer than politeness allowed, his eyes glittering with satisfaction.
“Do try to enjoy the evening, my dear Lady Daphne. It will be less pleasant without me watching over you, but I am certain your family will manage.”
He inclined his head, still holding that almost sinister warmth in his expression, then turned toward the door. His movements were purposeful. When he passed by Daniel, he made sure they brushed shoulders. Then, he paused to grin at Daphne before sending an almost jovial wink at Victoria.
Daphne cringed. Lord Briarwood was a menace. He moved through them as though each step was calculated to draw attention, to remind everyone present of his power and control.
“Good evening to all,” Briarwood added, his tone deceptively light, as if nothing had transpired.
Then he disappeared once more, leaving a silence that felt heavier than the conversation itself.
Daphne drew in a shaky breath, acutely aware of the watchful eyes on her.
“Daphne, you must beg Lord Briarwood’s forgiveness,” her mother broke the silence. “You must accept his offer. The man is wealthy and obsessed with you. This is your chance to marry well.”
It was clear that Daphne’s mother was eager to please the wicked Earl. Her tone was icy, and her mood was dour, but neither were unusual. For many years now, the Dowager had adopted this attitude when dealing with a child or stepchild who opposed her matchmaking schemes.
“No, Daphne! Over my dead body, Mother!’ Victoria yelled.
“Quiet yourself, sister.” Daniel held up a hand to silence Victoria. Then, he turned his own steely expression on their mother. “Lord Briarwood disrespected Daphne. He is a malicious man. He will not come near my sister again. I will not allow it,” Daniel declared, his jaw clenched.
Lady Grisham huffed. “You are so na?ve if you think he will let this matter slide. Did you not see the way he strutted out of this very room? He was undeterred by your words.” She fussed with the peacock feathers on her turban, then fixed Daphne with another stern stare.
“Briarwood is a determined man, Daphne. Do not shame our family by refusing him.”
“That is enough,” Daniel hissed, gesturing to the door. “Lady Grisham, you may return to the ballroom. I believe Victoria and the maid can tend to Daphne now.”
The Dowager’s lips pursed. She glared at everyone else before she left them without another word. The siblings exchanged wary glances.
Daphne’s hands trembled just slightly as she smoothed the folds of her gown, grateful that her brother’s presence shielded her in part. But Briarwood’s words, and the slow cruelty in his smile, were inescapable.
She would not forget them. Not tonight.
Not ever.
The next day, despite the fright of the previous evening, the Brighton siblings ventured out for a walk in Hyde Park.
Daphne noted how the air had grown sharper, biting at the tips of her ears and the exposed skin of her hands.
She repressed a shiver, adjusting her muff.
Winter was closing in; soon, she would require a sturdier coat.
Yet for now, the crisp calm of the park and the quiet rustle of leaves underfoot had a strangely soothing effect.
While Daniel and Victoria veered off the path and walked toward the water, Daphne lifted her head and observed the clouds in the grayish blue sky.
“Good day to you, Lady Daphne,” Lord Finroy greeted, calling for her attention as he stepped lightly onto the path. His voice was polite, familiar, yet carried a warmth that made her cheeks tingle as she lowered her chin and met his gaze.
He had always offered kind words and courteous smiles, and still, Daphne felt that peculiar mixture of pleasure and dread whenever a gentleman approached her.
She knew, inevitably, what would happen next.
As if conjured by some unholy spell, Lord Briarwood appeared, emerging from the shadows of a tree-lined path, his presence sharp and commanding, his gaze immediately finding hers.
“Oh! Lord Briarwood,” Finroy stammered, bowing hastily. “How… lovely to see you, my lord.” He turned back toward Daphne, voice tight with forced composure. “Pardon me, my lady. I must… attend to a most urgent matter. If you’ll excuse me…”
And just like that, Lord Finroy retreated, hastening down a side path, leaving Daphne with her heart hammering.
Briarwood’s slow smile held all the menace of last night, and his eyes glimmered with that unsettling amusement that never failed to make her skin crawl.
“Do you believe me now, Lady Daphne?” he asked, tipping his hat with the courtesy of a gentleman, artfully disguising the malevolence in his words. “I shall chase away all other suitors. And I do intend to see you every day. Every day, until you have no choice but to accept my proposal.”
No one needed further explanation. Daily visits would compromise her entirely. Rumors would flourish. Questions would arise. Even if she managed to maintain her composure, the scrutiny of Society would grow relentless, and her family’s honor would be placed under constant threat.
“Enough,” Daniel grunted, stepping forward, his broad frame partially shielding his sister.
Victoria rejoined Daphne then as well. She linked elbows so that the twins, as their brother, were instantly united against the interloping Earl.
“My sister has made it clear that she is not interested in your attention, Briarwood. Move on.”
The muscle in Daniel’s jaw was taut and his fists were clenched.
Several passersby paused, curious eyes flicking toward the small tableau.
Daphne could feel their attention press on her, yet all she noticed was the effort her brother made to remain restrained.
When Lord Briarwood produced no words or comments of his own, Daniel snorted hotly, then turned away from him.
His hand subtly guided her and Victoria away, pulling them along the path with protective insistence.
The supposedly relaxing walk had been entirely ruined. The wind that had seemed so refreshing a moment ago now felt sharper, carrying with it the weight of Briarwood’s presence.
Daphne wriggled closer to Victoria’s side, struggling to keep her face serene, even as her chest tightened with fear and indignation.
She did not need to turn around to know that Briarwood’s gaze followed them. He watched them greedily as if he were cataloging every detail of her movements.
The park, usually a place of respite, had become a stage, and she was trapped at its center.
That night, it was time for a family discussion.
Their sisters were invited together with their husbands: Marianne with Dominic, Elizabeth with Alasdair, and Wilhelmina with Gerard.
There was so much influence and power in the Grisham townhouse that night, but they were all concerned about Briarwood’s growing obsession with their Daphne.
“No one dares cross him,” Alasdair noted.
“He does have a massive influence in various circles,” Dominic added, rubbing his chin. “I have acquaintances with greater wealth who are afraid of him.”
Daphne’s heart sank further with each declaration, even though the gentlemen merely reiterated that which she already knew.
“We must do something,” Marianne insisted, her voice trembling with fury. “I will never let that man near Daphne. He is dangerous.”
“I will break his teeth if he comes anywhere near my sister again,” Victoria spat.
She had always been the volatile twin, but this time, there was pure hatred in her eyes that Daphne had not seen before.
“Victoria, remember that if you act against Lord Briarwood independently, people will see you as the villain, then. The consequences of that will not be pretty,” Elizabeth reminded her sister, who glared at her. “I am on your side, Vicky, and Daphne’s, too, but we need to be calm about this.”
“Do you all want me to use the might of the pen, instead?” Wilhelmina asked.
Daphne’s sister had written a column under the name of Lady Silverquill. She had first done it to alleviate her income as a widow, writing about members of the ton. Once she remarried, the necessity was no longer there, but Wilhelmina was still capable of penning quite the diatribe.
“No. It’s too dangerous,” her husband, Gerard, said. “Briarwood will not take kindly to having his name run through the muck. He’ll seek you out and most certainly reveal your identity to the ton as revenge.”
“I agree,” Marianne said. “As much as I want to ruin this man and make people see just how dangerous he is, we don’t want you implicated, Mina. The danger won’t be to your name alone.”
There were murmurs of assent from the rest of the family, except for one disgruntled Dowager.
“You are all looking at this most foolishly,” their mother snapped, her voice sharp and brittle as glass.
“Do you not understand? If Daphne dares refuse the Earl, he will ruin us: our name, our standing, and every carefully preserved piece of our family’s reputation.
Do you imagine Society will excuse such insolence?
Every whisper, every glance will mark us disgraced! ”
“You acknowledge what the man can do, and yet, you push Daphne toward such a monster. Is that the sort of husband you want for your daughter?” Daniel thundered. “I don’t want my sister forced into marriage. Not now, not ever.”
Daphne was aware of how her brother had somehow transformed from the easygoing young man who toured the continent before settling back into London. He was not afraid to talk in front of three Dukes who were also his brothers-in-law.
“Foolish children, all of you,” the Dowager said, her voice clipped, though at forty-five she was scarcely older than some of the younger Dukes.
“I do not wish to hear complaints if your imprudence brings difficulty upon the family. You are dealing with a man whose influence stretches beyond the ton, beyond the genteel walls of Mayfair. It would be most unwise to underestimate him.”
“Think of it this way,” Daniel retorted. “We’ve managed to survive our father, your late husband. We can survive Briarwood.”
“Do not be naive,” his stepmother hissed. She turned to Daphne, inclining her head ever so slightly. “Think of what is proper, my dear… for the sake of the family. Surely you would not wish to see them slighted. Or hear the ton gossiping of your refusal.”
“I will not!” Daphne declared, her voice firm.
“I do not claim to seek love, though I would not refuse it if it were offered honestly. But I will marry no one who cannot at least show me respect. A husband must honor his wife, not merely claim her name or her position. I am of the ton, yes, but I am still a person! I will not be bargained or cajoled into a life that diminishes me.”
“My dear, you’ll find out soon enough that you don’t need your husband’s respect. You need the ton’s.”
Daphne’s cheeks flamed. She could feel the blood pounding in her temples as disbelief and anger coursed through her.
How could her mother speak so lightly of marriage, as if it were merely a transaction? As if a man’s cruelty or disregard were of no consequence, so long as Society murmured its approval?
Her teeth clenched, and her heart thumped with a furious indignation she struggled to keep contained. Every bone in her body rebelled against the thought of bending to such callous pragmatism.
“Are you speaking based on experience, Mother?” Daphne asked.
The Dowager’s eyes narrowed to sharp slits, and her face flushed crimson. “Why, when have you become so insolent! You are just like your father!” she hissed, her hands trembling slightly with barely restrained ferocity.
Daphne had never felt any closeness to her late father. When he had been alive, the man had ruled their household with a tyrant’s hand, his presence created a constant source of fear. She bristled at the comparison, feeling only resentment and unease at being likened to someone so vicious.
“Do not,” Daniel growled, “ever compare my sisters to your late husband,” his eyes held infernos of fury, yet his body remained perfectly still as he spoke. “Thankfully, Daphne did not inherit the maliciousness that defined her parents.”
“Certainly not,” Marianne added, her eyes fixed on the Dowager.
Daphne’s mother stormed from the room in a huff. A moment later, the butler returned with a note for Daphne. She went pale when she saw Lord Briarwood’s writing on the envelope.
Reluctantly, she broke the seal.
“I shall visit you daily, Lady Daphne, until you accept my hand.”
Daphne read it aloud for her siblings and brothers-in-law. Outraged and astounded muttering filled the drawing room, but her heart raced with dread. Daily visits would ruin her reputation, spark gossip, and leave her family exposed.
Refusal could make matters worse.
Retaliation and scandal waited for them.
She folded the note carefully, unsure what to do with the threatening vow.
This little scrap of parchment served as a tangible reminder that Briarwood would not relent. Not until he had caged her into marriage.
A chilling certainty washed over her.
Nothing, not even her family’s protection, could shield her from him.