“That is right, Miss Kearsley. You would not.”
For the first time in her presence, the duke appeared pleased.
Was Emmy certain her sister Edith belonged to a loving union? With a snarling fellow like the duke, it seemed highly dubious.
Abandoning his relaxed pose, he laid a forearm along the other and leaned over. “Let me be absolutely clear. If you attempt to harm Miss Caldecott—”
“I wouldneverhurt Emmy.”
The duke continued over her interruption. “In any way. If you make her sad or scared. Lure her into harm, albeit unknowingly or intentional, I will end you.” He arched an eyebrow. “Have I made myself clear?”
“That is a rhetorical question, is it not?” She bloody despised them. Couldn’t a person just say whatever it was they meant?
The Duke of Craven’s mouth moved.
He found his voice. “Consider yourself warned, Miss Kearsley.”
With a last warning look, Emmy’s brother-in-law disembarked. Behind him, the door closed with a quiet, ominous click.
Words passed between thegentlemanand Daria’s driver.
A moment later, her carriage lurched forward.
Daria briefly clenched her hands. In the course of her life, she’d been insulted too many times to count. She could have rebuilt the city of London on those disparagements alone. None offended her more, hurt her greater, than the Duke of Craven’s.
Unlike her sisters Anwen, Eris, Brenna, Cora, and her twin, Delia, Daria hadn’t ever been one to great shows of emotion. Not on account Daria didn’t feel. She did,deeply.
But communicating those feelings, well, that’d come to her as complex as a clock’s gears.
She did not express herself well, but she not only felt deeply, she loved even more so.
Nor was this a recent discovery. It’d been one of the reasons people, her own family even, considered her weird. Oh, they loved her immensely. But she saw the looks they gave, the ones they didn’t even know they were giving. For that reason, Daria should have anticipated the Duke of Argyll’s horrified response.
She’d wager the sea of criticismsagainsther were matched only by the plaudits Argyllreceived.
Though how she and he were a match in any way remained questionable.
It wasn’t for Daria to question her cursed future.
The soothing clip-clop of the horses’ hooves were at odds with the sharp rumble and grind of wheels that rolled over uneven surfaces. A noxious clatter of iron striking a divot set her nerves on edge.
What was worse, she’d had the entire night, morning, afternoon, and current evening to improve upon her next exchange, and she didn’t have a bloody idea how to convince him they were meant for one another.
Last night couldn’t have gone worse. Considering she’d been armed with details about her future bridegroom, marriage, and fate, last night should have gone far more swimmingly than it had.
In terms of how things went, swimming hadn’t a thing to do with Daria’s exchange with Argyll.
Drowning would be more like it.
With a groan, Daria rested her head along the back of the bench.
She’d made an absolute muddle of last night’s meeting with the duke.
Whatever fate had planned for Daria and the duke, the fact remained that Gregory didn’t know anything but certain, indisputable facts: one, he’d the face and form of Adonis. Two,he possessed greater suave than Giacomo Casanova. And three, Casanovas did not marry Annes of Cleves like Daria.
When the carriage rolled to a stop outside Daria’s townhouse, she stayed tucked inside.
And now, despite the painstaking efforts that’d gone into tonight’s planning, she’d been foiled by the Duke of Craven.
