One thing was certain: she would not start her second marriage with a deception.
So she took a deep breath in preparation of his rejection, and turned with every intention of forcing the truth from her throat. Only to see that Michael was stretched out upon the bed, eyes closed, while his chest rose and fell with slow movements. A soft snore followed and Cynthia sighed in response before climbing onto the bed beside him and snuggling close to his side.
11
Panic had driven Wilhelmina to make the most preposterous suggestion ever. She knew she played a dangerous game where Mr. Dale was concerned, but when he’d revealed his suspicions to her she’d determined to prove him wrong. Judging from the gleam in his eyes, he had every intention of taking her up on her scandalous offer.
Her heart pounded with trepidation, though not without some degree of excitement as well. Since the moment they’d met, the pull she experienced in his presence had been steadily growing. It didn’t matter if he spoke to her in anger or showed resentment toward her. She still wanted him with a primitive sort of fierceness that scared the living daylight out of her whenever she stopped to think on the subject.
It was like a fated connection – the sort one could not escape no matter how fast one tried to run in the opposite direction. And to actually lie with him…
If their kiss had been a fiery experience their coupling would surely incinerate her.
Voices from newly arrived guests sounded from somewhere off to her left. Mr. Dale’s gaze shifted and then his expression darkened. Instinctively, Wilhelmina turned to discover the cause of his upset. And instantly froze as the blood in her veins turned to ice.
“Cloverfield.” She barely got the word out.
“You’re acquainted with him?” The lack of warmth to Mr. Dale’s voice chilled her even further.
“No. I mean once… It was a long time ago and… Different.” She shook her head. This man bore a striking resemblance to another she’d once known, yet it couldn’t be him. He was much too young, so this must surely be his son.
“It doesn’t sound as though you wish to cross paths with him any more than I do. So let’s go. Before he or his friends see us.”
Somehow, Wilhelmina managed to stand. Her head felt as though it was upside down, her legs too weak to carry her weight. Memories she’d long since buried rose to the surface and flooded her mind. She gripped the back of her chair even as her hand shook.
“Mrs. Lawson?”
She pressed her eyes shut, willing away the unpleasantness as it pressed in upon her with suffocating force. An arm swept around her, steadying her against a solid frame.
“It’s all right,” Mr. Dale murmured next to her ear. “Just lean on me.”
She managed a nod and carefully opened her eyes, then took a step forward. Somehow, little by little, they moved toward the dining room exit. But before they managed to reach it, Cloverfield stepped into their path.
“Well, I’ll be,” the duke said with an arrogant snort. “If it isn’t the infamous divorcée I’ve been hoping to meet. And you’re with Mr. Dale, I see. How deliciously unexpected yet wonderfully useful since he can now see to the introductions.”
Wilhelmina felt Mr. Dale’s already tight muscles strain even further. “Mrs. Lawson. Allow me to present the Duke of Cloverfield. Your Grace, this is Mrs. Lawson.”
Gleaming green eyes bore into hers. A smirk formed upon the duke’s lips as he bowed. “A pleasure. I assure you.”
“Likewise,” she replied even though it was nothing of the sort. Handsome as sin, Cloverfield had to be ten years younger than she at least. But this was not the reason why he failed to make her pulse race. Rather, it had everything to do with the fact that the man reminded her of a venomous snake. Stiff and with a very distinct urge to flee, she held on tightly to Mr. Dale’s arm.
“If you’ll forgive me for prying,” the duke went on in a blasé tone while dropping his gaze to the spot where Wilhelmina’s hand latched onto Mr. Dale. “What brings the two of you to these parts together?”
Wilhelmina sucked in a breath. It felt like her blood was struggling to squeeze its way through her veins. Also, she feared she might be violently ill at any moment due to the sickening memories swamping her brain. Cloverfield looked too much like his father. She needed to get away from him before she burst into tears, cast up her accounts, or started to scream. None of which would help her situation.
“I am escorting Mrs. Lawson,” Mr. Dale said.
The duke grinned. “I can see that.” His eyes darkened as all signs of humor vanished. “I wish to know why.”
Apparently, he believed impertinence to be his right. Wilhelmina bristled. While it might be best to keep quiet and let Mr. Dale handle the situation, she decided to speak. “He’s a longtime family friend.”
Her intention had been to cement a solid relationship between herself and Mr. Dale in the hope the duke would back off and leave them in peace.
Instead, he responded with a low chuckle – the sort she imagined a murderer might be inclined to produce right before he slashed one’s throat. Her skin pricked on account of the cool sweat sweeping her shoulders. She shivered in response.
“Is he really?” the duke asked. He leaned toward her, infusing every fiber of her being with extreme discomfort. “And how, pray tell, do you reward him for his loyalty, Mrs. Lawson?”
Mr. Dale drew her back a step, pushing her slightly behind him. “You insult us both with your implication.”
