Secrets of Seduction (25 page)

“Because she felt she had no choice,” Mrs. Nibbs explained quietly. “Under the law, she had no right to take you away. You were but a babe, and your safety would have been endangered also had she absconded with you. Moreover, she felt his lordship could offer you a much better life of privilege and comfort.”

“What kind of life did I have without a mother?” Daphne murmured, unable to hide her resentment. Then abruptly she shook her head. “Forgive me, that was uncharitable and childish of me, to be only thinking of myself. Especially when you say my father drove her to it.…”

Her words trailed off as she glanced down at her clasped hands, her mind obviously leaping from one thought to the next, the play of emotions on her face changing in quick succession. “My God … then she did not kill herself after all.”

The next moment her eyes filled with tears. “As a suicide, she was never buried on consecrated ground. And to think … all those years I blamed her for selfishly leaving me without a mother.”

Wiping her eyes, she glanced back up and searched the midwife’s lined face. “And then what?” Daphne took a deep breath, as if bracing herself for sad news. “It has been so long, she cannot possibly still be alive … could she?”

Looking puzzled, she shifted her gaze to Kate, then
Skye. Suddenly, there was wonder and hope in her eyes along with wariness. “You have knowledge of my mother, don’t you, Lady Katharine? Why else would you have brought Mrs. Nibbs to see me?”

Without replying, both Kate and Mrs. Nibbs glanced at Skye, since they’d agreed the choice to proceed would be hers.

“Yes, Miss Farnwell,” Skye said gently, coming to a decision. “We have knowledge of your mother—and she is very much alive.”

Daphne made a
strangled sound that was half gasp, half sob, and brought her hand up to cover her trembling mouth. Briefly she shut her eyes, then opened them and threw Skye a pleading look. “I am not dreaming, am I?”

“No, you are definitely not dreaming,” Skye said tenderly.

“Dear God,” Daphne repeated in a hoarse whisper. “Please … tell me, where is she?”

“She is here in England now.”

Daphne shook herself. “This is unbelievable. May I see her? Does she want to see me? How is she?”

Looking dazed, Daphne rose to her feet and took two steps toward Skye, then stopped. “Forgive me, I am behaving like a madwoman.”

Skye smiled briefly. “Not at all. It is only natural that your thoughts are scattered after such an enormous revelation caught you off guard.”

Inhaling again, Daphne forced herself to resume her
seat. “I have innumerable questions, but perhaps I should allow you to speak, Lady Skye.”

“To begin with, your mother is well, and she longs to meet you. The story of how she came to leave you is dreadfully painful for her, and she wishes to explain her reasoning herself in more detail and beg your forgiveness.”

Daphne nodded, her expression becoming more subdued. “How did you and Lady Katharine come to be involved with my mother?”

“I happened across some of her correspondence to my Uncle Cornelius before her marriage and realized she had once been a friend of his. When Mrs. Nibbs confided the circumstances of her escape, I went to Ireland to find her. She has been living there under an assumed name. This is her likeness when she was much younger.”

Skye withdrew the miniature from her reticule and passed it to Miss Farnwell, who sat there staring avidly.

“I look a good deal like her at that age.”

“Yes, but we have been at pains to disguise her appearance in order to maintain the fiction of her death.”

Daphne’s brow furrowed, then cleared. “Because of my brother? Edgar doesn’t know, does he?”

“No. The consequences could be dire for Lord Farnwell. The succession would be in question if it were proven that his own mother’s marriage to your father was invalid.”

Evidently Daphne had no desire to dwell on her brother, for she returned to the former subject. “When may I see my mother?”

“Very shortly, if you wish,” Skye said. “For now she is staying with a friend of my family’s in East Sussex.
Katharine and I thought we should devise a natural pretext for you to accompany me to the country. Perhaps I could commission you to paint some watercolors of a lovely old rose garden.”

“That seems ideal,” Daphne mused aloud, her thoughts racing ahead. “I could easily leave tonight. Lady Gowing will not mind making do without me for a time. I only need to cancel some engagements first.…”

Kate interjected her own opinion. “There is no need for such haste, Miss Farnwell. Tomorrow will be soon enough, or even the day after. We don’t want to raise any undue suspicions with your unexplained actions.”

Daphne frowned at her choice of words. “No, of course not. Even if Edgar were completely unaffected by my mother’s return, I don’t want him to know of it. He is spiteful enough to thwart my happiness on general principle. We have long been at loggerheads.”

“So you can understand why we must maintain secrecy for now.”

“Indeed I do.”

The discussion turned to formulating plans then, and they agreed to wait another day and a half before Skye escorted Daphne to Hawkhurst Castle. Kate planned to remain in London rather than accompany them. Her carriage would return Mrs. Nibbs to Brackstone the next day and then be at Skye’s disposal.

That night Skye slept in her own bed for the first time in weeks. It was good to be home, she decided, even if the magnificent town house belonging to the Earl of Traherne seemed strangely empty.

Quinn was still away at points unknown, having become obsessed with his own version of changing
fate. Their parents had died at sea off the coast of France—a tragedy that might have been prevented in a vessel that could outrun a storm. Thus, Quinn was set on funding the design of an enormous steam engine that could power sailing ships.

He had disappeared on his quest over a month before, but Skye was glad for his absence, since she hadn’t wanted him interfering with her attempted romance with Hawk. She spent the next day catching up on correspondence with her friends and dispatching social obligations. And the morning after that, she set out for East Sussex with Daphne in Kate’s carriage.

Daphne was alternately excited, anxious, nervous, and hopeful. As they neared Hawk’s castle, she asked Skye to remain with her when she met her mother for the first time. Skye did her best to put Daphne at ease and prepare her for what to expect, particularly for what her mother was like. And then Skye listened while Daphne shared her concerns.

When they arrived, it was near midday and a chill rain was falling. The renovations for the family wing were not as obvious upon their approach, but the gravel drive seemed less rutted and the overgrowth of the park had been significantly pared back. Rachel must have been watching anxiously from a window, for as soon as their carriage drew to a halt, she appeared on the front steps above them.

Clearly, Daphne hardly dared to breathe as a footman opened the carriage door for her. Rachel looked just as nervous as she slowly descended the stone stairway.

When she reached Daphne, they stood there in the rain, drinking each other in. Lord Cornelius had followed
at a discreet distance and stood watching the two of them. It was left to Skye to make the introductions, then move the encounter inside, where liveried footmen accepted their wet outer garments and bonnets.

They couldn’t hold a tender reunion in front of all the servants, yet once they made it to the parlor, the searching glances resumed. Mother and daughter were both weeping silently, tears of happiness running down their faces.

Then Rachel took Daphne’s hands and murmured in a hoarse voice, “Can you ever forgive me?”

Daphne gave a watery laugh. “Of course I can, Mama.” Then she winced. “I ought not call you that, oughtn’t I?”

“I fear not, my dearest girl. You must address me as Mrs. Donnelly or Meg.”

“It doesn’t matter. It only matters that I have found you. I always dreamed of knowing my mother, but it seems impossible that my dream has come true.”

“I feared you would hate me,” Rachel said in a choked voice.

Daphne’s expression remained solemn. “When I first learned of your existence, I felt a bit resentful that you had left me.”

“I could not take you with me, Daphne, no matter how agonizing the choice. You were so very young—just a tiny baby. Your father would never have ceased looking for us if I had stolen you away. It was difficult leaving my family and friends, but abandoning you was like ripping out my heart.”

Daphne’s slow nod suggested understanding. “I realize why you felt it necessary to fabricate your
death. Papa was not only cold and heartless but physically brutal. But it is harder to accept why you kept the secret from me after he was gone.”

“I was frightened by the possible ramifications. The truth could alter your life so drastically. I didn’t dare expose you to your half brother’s wrath, for one thing. He inherited your father’s temperament, from what I can gather.”

“Yes, Edgar is much like Papa.”

“So perhaps you can see why I thought it best for your sake to maintain the lie that I had lived for twenty-five years. Moreover, I had no confidence that you would welcome the news, until Lady Skye persuaded me to take the risk.”

Daphne cast Skye a thankful look. “I am enormously grateful that she did.”

Rachel hesitated. “I must ask, Daphne … did your father ever raise a hand to you?”

“No. He was mostly indifferent. I think because I was a daughter, not a son.”

Rachel shut her eyes briefly in relief. “Thank God. That was my worst fear—that he might hurt you, but I gambled that he would provide you a far better life than I ever could. And later … I learned that his new wife was a quiet-spoken gentlewoman from an impeccable family and hoped she could raise you to become a genteel young lady. I see I was not wrong.”

Daphne smiled at the compliment. “My stepmother was not unkind, simply frivolous and shallow. She had a great eye for fashion and style, though, and she encouraged my interest in roses and watercolor painting, even though she disliked being out of doors herself and had no fondness for art or science. I think I
must have acquired my attachment to roses from you. I know that you loved roses.… Painting in your rose garden at Farnwell Manor always comforted me. Somehow I felt close to you when I was there.”

Suddenly, Rachel buried her face in her hands and heaved a great sob. Groping blindly, she sank into the nearest chair and continued to weep.

Daphne’s concern was evident in the way she hovered over her mother. Cornelius, too, was visibly anxious at her distress, but Skye felt certain the tremendous emotion Rachel was feeling was relief and joy rather than sadness, and so she passed over a handkerchief from her reticule.

A short while later Rachel quieted and wiped her eyes. Still sniffing, she looked up. She was smiling broadly. Beaming, in fact. “I am perfectly fine, my dear. I am crying from sheer joy. You cannot know how I have longed for this moment.”

Daphne’s features softened. “Indeed, I can, for I have felt the same longing all my life.”

At the touching exchange, Skye let out her breath in relief, her own fears allayed. This promising, heartwarming beginning boded well for their reunion.

After Rachel’s outburst, they all took seats and initiated the process of becoming acquainted. They were strangers, after all, and had a quarter century of catching up to do. Emotions and feelings and thoughts came pouring out in fits and starts. One comment led to another tangent, which diverged to a different subject altogether, before circling back again as they explored each other’s lives and characters and history.

Most surprising to Skye was Daphne’s familiarity
with Cornelius’s scholarly works. She had read his treatise on Ovid numerous times and professed to be a great admirer. Skye’s biggest regret was that her uncle and Rachel had to hide their love. Cornelius was merely introduced as the patriarch of the Wilde family and a longtime friend of Rachel’s.

Skye badly wanted Daphne to know about her parentage, but the truth could only hurt her. As the daughter of a baron, she might be able to weather a scandal involving her stepmother and stepbrother. But if it was discovered that she was the child of her mother’s illicit lover, she would be ruined in society, no matter her illustrious patrons or connections.

Even so, their reunion was a joyous occasion, and Skye was resolved to enjoy it. At dinner that evening, Daphne met Lady Isabella, who contributed to the congenial, lively atmosphere.

Hawk was also present, to Skye’s mixed relief and dismay. She hadn’t encountered him the entire day, whether because he was busy or purposely avoiding her, she couldn’t tell. She couldn’t read his expression, either, but the impact of seeing him again was just as powerful as always: Her heart lurched and warmed at the same time, while her body was jolted with sexual awareness.

She had no opportunity to speak to Hawk alone, a circumstance she was certain he had contrived. It was the following afternoon and nearly teatime when Aunt Bella found Skye to say that she was worried about Hawk after just witnessing a disturbing episode: A gardener had found a metal box of toys buried beneath a bush that likely had belonged to his
lordship’s son. Upon opening it, Hawk had stiffened grimly, then stormed away.