Page 97 of His Runaway Duchess

“Why, thank you, wife,” came a low, deep voice. “You make an excellent duchess, I must say.”

CHAPTER 26

Daphne spun around, staring up at him as though he had suddenly grown too heads.

Edward, whose heart had pounded hard enough to make him sick most of the way here, allowed himself a small, neat smile.

She can never accuse me of not being surprising enough, then.

He had wondered on and off whether Daphne might have told her family the whole story, but judging by the glare Emily Belmont directed at him, he guessed that she had. The Other Daphne, as he’d called her in his head, was staring at him as if she wanted to tear his head off. He gave her a polite smile, which was not returned.

The three unfamiliar women were also gawking at him. The oldest and tallest one closed her jaw with a snap.

“Well,” she said. “What a surprise to see you here, Your Grace.”

He raised an eyebrow. “My wife is here. Why would I not be here, too?”

This was an excellent point, and the woman glanced uncertainly to her sisters for support. The women mumbled something, turned around unceremoniously, and scuttled off into the crowd.

“I hope they weren’t friends of yours,” Edward remarked, turning back to Daphne. “I think I might have scared them off. But then they thoughtIwas cursed and that you weregoingto curse them, so perhaps they were glad to have an excuse to leave.”

He thought that was rather funny, but Daphne did not laugh. She stared up at him, a furrow between her eyebrows.

She’s so beautiful.

Her gown fit her perfectly, skimming tantalizingly over her shoulders. The white column of her neck was craned so she could look at him, her hair falling in ringlets down her nape. He suddenly found himself choked with desire, longing to lean forward and kiss her, touch that smooth white skin and wrap a ringlet around his fingertip.

Somebody jostled him from behind, and the dizzy longing evaporated as quickly as it had come. People were looking at him. He could feel their stares boring into his shoulders, curious and disapproving. People loved drama, after all.

Gossip about the disgraced Duchess of Thornbridge and her cursed husband arriving without warning must have already shot across the ballroom. It would be discussed thoroughly tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. Perhaps even several weeks from now, barring anything more interesting happening. The scandal sheets would mention it, and that would only serve to keep the scandal alive.

He found that he didn’t care. Not one bit. Why should he? What did it matter what any of them thought? All that mattered was Daphne.

She was still staring up at him incredulously. Her sister stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her, her arms folded and her face set in a scowl.

“I wonder how you dare,” Emily burst out. She took a step forward, wagging her finger in his face. “How could you treat my sister this way? And then to turn up here, scandalizing everybody—I know for a fact you weren’t invited!—and act as if nothing is wrong! I might not believe in curses, but I think you deserve a healthy dollop of bad luck! In fact…”

Edward blinked down at the tiny fury. She was forced to stand on her tiptoes, and even still she was about a foot shorter than him. It was strange that Daphne, while being the same height as her twin sister, seemed so much taller.

Emily finished her lecture with a nod, pushing her spectacles further up on her nose. “And what do you have to say tothat, Sir?”

Edward cleared his throat. “Well, I… I’m sorry.”

Emily blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

He held out his arms to the sides. “I’m sorry. I acted badly, and with great coldness. I had reasons for my actions, but reasons can be little more than excuses. The plain fact is that I did not expect Daphne to leave me. I suspect I’ve been living with my head buried in the sand, like an ostrich, and my wife’s departure was the sharp jolt I needed.”

Emily seemed a little surprised by this. She glanced at her sister, who had remained silent throughout this entire conversation.

Daphne gave a faint shrug. “What do you want, Edward?” she asked.

She sounded resigned and tired, and a flash of guilt lanced through his chest.

“I want to talk,” he answered. “Will you dance with me?”

She nibbled on her lower lip, eyeing him. “No,” she said. “I might dance with somebody else, though.”

He snorted. “I won’t allow it.”

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