Eris took that offer in with the same intent focus Daria did the exchange her husband and sister.
Daria did not move. She scarcely breathed.
Eris’s tiny freckled nose wrinkled. “I suppose that will suffice.” Dropping her chin into her hand, she released a sigh. “Though a wicked club soundsvastlymore fun to visit.”
Her husband grinned.
“How about this, Eris?” he whispered, a conspirator worthy of the Kearsley family. “What if I make you a promise?”
Daria’s heart quickened—an instinctive warning she had learned never to ignore.
As intrigued as Daria herself, Eris eased off Daria’s bench and onto the duke’s. “Whatkindof promise?”
And, God help her, she understood. Like Plato in the cave, and a full light shown, she’d glimpsed the charm that’d won the Duke of Argyll enough hearts to fill the Thames. How could one close one’s mind from such a memory?
“I’ll allow extra sweets at the dull spots, and someday, when you’re a tad older, we’ll have another think about you visiting my club?”
He winked.
“And that will be all for now!” Clayton said. His voice climbed an octave and broke Gregory’s spell.
Daria released the breath she didn’t realize she held. Her heartbeat, though, refused to quit its dangerous rhythm.
Her husband stiffened. His gaze went from Eris to Daria. The grin he wore lost its warmth.
And with it, so went the soothing light in her own breast.
At last, her family was gone and the clip-clop of the horses, and grind of the carriage wheels against cobblestones, led Daria away from the only life she’d known—and to the unknown.
Being alone with a man who was somehow both a stranger and her husband should have set off a dangerous panic. Perhaps she would have been unnerved before. Before she’d seen his kindness with her sister and his patience with her family.
“Thank you for being kind to Eris,” she said softly.
Gregory draped an arm along the back of his bench and flashed a lazy smile. “You truly do take me for a monster.”
The pose was his protective one.
Her conscience pricked. She’d wounded him. He’d never say as much, on account he likely didn’t even realize she had. “I didn’t mean to suggest anything but gratit—”
Gregory curled his lips into a slow, dangerous smile.
“We are married, Daria,” he murmured, his husked baritone setting her belly to fluttering.
“Y-Yes.”
Who did that breathless reply belong to? Surely not her.
His rake’s smile confirmed the throaty response as Daria’s.
“And what was it you said on the night you proposed? Hmm?”
She tried to speak but couldn’t.
His rake’s smile deepened. “I suggested sealing our betrothal, little raven.”
Her throat thick with some foreign emotion, she needed to swallow several times. “I remember.”
A low chuckle rumbled from Gregory’s chest. “Ah, my little raven has the memory of that quite clever bird too. Unfortunately, my fetching bride, I’m the one in need of a reminder. What was it you said when I suggested we seal our betrothal with a kiss?”
