Her Reformed Rake (Wicked Husbands #3)(16)
He made up his mind. There would be no courting of Vanreid as Carlisle had wanted, no ingratiating himself to Miss Vanreid’s father in the hope of winning her hand in a rushed but nevertheless proper manner. Sebastian was a spy, and his allegiance was to England, but he was also a gentleman. And there was no bloody way he would stand idly by knowing she would be brutalized for actions that were of his own making.
There were pawns and then there were pawns. He had never been asked to stoop to this level before, to risk his own progeny, the line of the Trent duchy, in the name of Crown and country. To marry a woman he knew nothing about, a woman who could either be a traitor, a spy, or worse. To turn a blind eye to the fact that her father had clearly beaten her often enough and badly enough to terrify her.
That he wouldn’t do. He wouldn’t consign Daisy Vanreid to any hells that were greater than those she’d already visited. “How much freedom do you have here?” he asked curtly.
“None unless Aunt Caroline is otherwise distracted.”
He knew the sort of distraction that would appeal to dear Aunt Caroline. Carlisle had a face the ladies swooned for. Christ knew why, for most of the time, Sebastian longed to plant a fist into the man’s supercilious chin. Only his oath kept him from mayhem.
“If Aunt Caroline has sufficient distraction tomorrow afternoon, do you think you could leave without anyone’s notice?” he asked, relishing the prospect of informing Carlisle he’d need to dance attendance on a middle-aged harpy with a weakness for liquor and cock. Mayhap not in that precise order.
Miss Vanreid’s eyes widened. “I believe I could. What do you have in mind?”
“Two o’clock tomorrow, and you shall find out.” He forced his eyes away from Miss Vanreid’s lovely, upturned face just in time to see her aunt storming toward them, skirts flapping with indignation. It would appear he had tarried too long in the sunshine and Miss Vanreid’s decadent presence. “I’ll be waiting in an unmarked carriage. Bring only what you require.”
“My conscience demands that I warn you that my father will almost certainly rescind my dowry should I defy him, Your Grace,” she began, only for him to interrupt her.
“I don’t require your dowry. While it’s a well-known fact that many of my peers are pockets to let, I need not fear penury. I’ve a substantial sum of my own, so you needn’t worry yourself on that score.” He paused as the aunt stalked ever closer. “Trust that I’ll make certain your father can never lay another hand on you again.”
She heaved a sigh of relief, as though he’d just rescued her from the maws of certain ruin.
Little did she know that her downward spiral was only just beginning. There would be no fists or brute strength leveled against her. But there would be a reckoning. He would determine how much she knew, and whether or not she was complicit. And if she was complicit, her father would be the least of her fears.
’ll be back in a trice,” Daisy told her Aunt Caroline later that afternoon as their carriage came to a halt outside a milliner’s. Fortunately, the duke’s departure had left her aunt so overwrought that she’d imbibed several glasses of port. As a result, Daisy had convinced her to allow an excursion that Aunt Caroline wouldn’t have ordinarily approved of. Especially since Daisy’s honor had been so recently compromised.
But Daisy didn’t care. She needed to see Bridget, and she’d do so by any means.
Her aunt hiccupped. “I don’t think you ought to venture inside unchaperoned. Your father would not approve.”
“I have Abigail,” she argued of her lady’s maid. “We will be back in the carriage in a blink of an eye.”
Of course, there was the natural possibility that her aunt just may doze off in the warm confines of the waiting carriage before Daisy returned, which would only make matters much simpler. She wisely refrained from saying so.
Her aunt grumbled. “Very well. But I will give you five minutes, and five minutes only. You know that girl is not—”
“I’m aware,” Daisy interrupted curtly, lest her inebriated aunt let any family secrets slip from her lips before her lady’s maid. “I’ll return posthaste. It’s all very proper, Aunt.”
Aunt Caroline’s mouth tightened into a knot of disapproval. “Be quick about it, then.”
Daisy didn’t tarry a second longer before alighting from the carriage with her lady’s maid following in her wake. She sincerely hoped that Bridget was on duty today, for she hadn’t enough time to send word.
Inside the milliner’s, the scene was familiar—a bevy of hats on display, all the first stare of fashion. The shop was a fine one, and Bridget held a senior position, though Daisy would have preferred she’d listened to reason and come to stay with her and Aunt Caroline. Bridget, of course, had been equally stubborn in her refusal and vehement in her dislike of Daisy.
But Daisy was nothing if not determined, and so she continued to pay visits to the milliner’s as often as she could to see the half sister she’d always known existed an ocean away but had never met until her arrival in London. As a lonely girl, Daisy had dreamt of meeting the older sister born out of wedlock, conceived during the early years of her parents’ marriage. To her father, Bridget was a sign of shame. To Daisy, she was family. Daisy had sought her out immediately, but she had not met with the welcoming she’d hoped.