Page 69 of The Villain
That had stung, knowing the words he’d uttered in the heat of the moment had meant nothing.
If you were someone else …
But she was not someone else. She was Lady Daphne Fairchild, and he had made sure to remind her that, in the harsh light of day, she meant nothing to him other than a means to an end. He had achieved his revenge, and now, he was done with her.
When Maeve had escorted her to the foyer of the palace, she had gazed mournfully into the music room, where the harp had been returned. She would miss the beautiful instrument most of all.
They’d found the door to Adam’s study closed as they’d passed it, though the warm, red glow showing beneath the crack had told her he occupied the room. Tearing her gaze away from the imposing double doors, she had followed the maid to the front doors … where Niall had stood waiting for them, dressed for travel.
“The Master has entrusted me with seein’ ye safely home,” he had said while reaching into his coat pocket. “And he has instructed me to give you this.”
He’d retrieved an envelope stamped with the Hartmoor seal and thrust it toward her. She’d broken through the red wax and peeled open the envelope, hoping to find a note inside … a letter … some form of a good-bye.
She’d found only a bank draft made out to her for the grand sum of thirty thousand pounds.
The only thing he had ever promised her, delivered promptly before her departure.
Lifting her chin, she had tucked the draft into the envelope, then slid it into the pocket of her carriage dress. She had not uttered so much as a word to the butler who seemed to hate her as much as Adam did. Not even a ‘thank you.’
Niall had not seemed to mind, muttering a simple ‘let’s go,’ at her before exiting the palace. Maeve, however, had pulled her into a warm embrace.
“I am going to miss you, my lady,” she had said, her voice heavy as if she fought back tears. “I had hoped … oh, well, it does not matter what I hoped. Do not mind me. Safe journey back to London.”
Daphne had given the maid a sad smile, but said nothing else. She had not wanted to let on that she had hoped, too.
The trip to London went by uneventfully, with not a word passing between her and Niall. What else was there to say? She had come to Dunnottar and served her purpose. Now, she would return home.
But, where was home? She supposed she must discover where her brother, father, and mother lived now that they’d had to part with Fairchild House.
Returning to the present, she glanced back to Niall with a frown.
“Where are we?”
Inclining his head, he gestured toward the buildings surrounding them. “These buildings are flats rented by those who cannae afford townhouses, or do not wish to shoulder the expense of rentin’ one durin’ the Season.”
Turning back to study the windows facing the street, she found candlelight burning through several of them. Shadows moved around inside—people going about their lives, oblivious to all else.
“This is where my family lives now.”
“Aye,” Niall confirmed. “The Master supposed ye’d wish to return to them.”
Why would Adam assume such? Did he not realize she was disgusted with what they had done?
But then, he must know until she could deposit her bank draft, she would not have the funds to find a room at an inn. As well, he would surely realize she would wish to confront them about what she knew … what they’d hidden from her.
“Well, then,” she said, parroting the butler. “Do you happen to know which flat?”
“Third level,” he replied. “Second door on the left.”
“Thank you.”
With that, she left the carriage, carrying only a sack filled with the clothing she had worn to Dunnottar. Her horse, she’d left behind upon realizing she would have no place to keep him in London. She could only hope Adam would see him cared for.
Daphne did not look back to watch the carriage drive away with Niall, focusing upon the entrance to the unimposing building. It did not strike her as being a den of poverty, and while it was not the loftiest of addresses, nor was it situated in London’s slums. Still, it was a far cry from the opulent townhome she had resided in since coming to the city for her first Season.
Due to the late hour, she found the corridors of the place empty, for which she was grateful. Making her way to the third level, she located the flat Niall had spoken of and rapped upon the door. Voices and movement came from the other side, and a moment later, she found herself confronted with the familiar face of Ruthers, her father’s valet.
These days, he seemed to work as a servant in many capacities, which included answering the door.
