Page 1 of One Wicked Secret
Chapter One
Upper Brook Street
Mayfair, London
Daniel Dalton did not attend society balls. He did not partake in small talk or dance with ladies desperate to pique his interest. He did not mask his boredom or laugh when he would rather curse. Whatever emotion charged through his veins, those within a ten-foot radius felt the power of its force, too.
But every man had an Achilles’ heel.
Every man had a weak spot that shattered his resolve.
Loyalty was the arrow that had brought Daniel to his knees. It forced him to betray his desires and do things he despised. It drove him to lie and deceive and tangle himself in a web of dark secrets.
And so, with gnawing reluctance, he stood with his closest friends in the Earl and Countess of Berridge’sballroom, sipping champagne though he wished to God it was brandy. He tried to focus on their mindless banter, not the hostile letter he had received a few days ago.
Daniel ground his teeth.
That damned letter!
He could recite every word verbatim.
Could a doctor even prove a woman was chaste?
He could ask the man beside him. Gentry was a skilled physician, but then Daniel would be compelled to reveal a wicked secret. Besides, Gentry was leaving for a short honeymoon in the Cotswolds tomorrow and had only recently resolved his own troubles.
Instead, he knocked back his champagne, snatching another glass from the footman’s tray, all the while imagining a lecherous oaf touching a certain lady intimately on his filthy leather couch.
“What do you plan to do with your family home in Dean Street, Mrs Gentry?” Daventry asked in his usual probing tone.
Being the illegitimate son of a duke and owner of London’s best enquiry agency, few secrets escaped Daventry’s dark-eyed scrutiny. Thus, Daniel said very little in his presence.
“We’ve yet to decide.” Sofia looked at Gentry as a wife should: with faith in her eyes and love in her heart. “Given the terrible memories tied to the house, we feel it should be used for the greater good.”
“You could educate the poor.” Daventry was always seeking ways to help the downtrodden. “Teach them to grow medicinal herbs from their windowsills. Open up the house as a place to treat minor ailments.”
Sofia nodded. “The body can be its own healer if one learns to master the mind. That’s hard to do when you’re destitute and without funds.”
Daniel’s shoulders relaxed somewhat. He did not shirk his responsibilities but faced them with the dedication of a soldier marching into battle. He granted his dependants every luxury—except perhaps his time. Had he done the latter, the threatening letter wouldn’t be burning a damn hole in his coat pocket.
“I might use the house as a refuge for ladies without means,” Sofia continued, her gaze drifting to someone cutting through the crowd. “A haven for poor ladies like Miss Tyler.”
Daniel’s heart stuttered.
Miss Tyler! Not his Miss Tyler, surely?
Had the minx carried out her threat and followed him to London?
The thought rebounded in his mind. Every hair on his nape prickled to attention. He straightened and craned his neck, keen to look beyond Gentry’s broad shoulders and confirm Miss Tyler’s hair wasn’t so pale it seemed woven from fine threads of moonlight.
Pull yourself together, you fool!The letter has you as jittery as a bird on a snapping branch.
But he had reason to believe his world teetered on the brink of disaster. With its sharp words and biting tone, the missive warned of a reckoning. The sender knew the threat would stir his temper and had crafted every sentence to provoke his fury.
Yet it wasn’t rage he felt when he caught sight of Miss Tyler.
His heart swelled in his chest as if stretching after ahundred-year slumber. Though she screwed her heart-shaped face into a scowl, and her ice-blue eyes were as hard as frost-covered stone, she was just as beautiful to him.
“Mother of all saints!” The comment was more a breathless gasp as the lady approached, the air around her charged with the quiet storm of vengeance. How the devil would he placate her without telling her the truth?
