The Handmaiden's Necklace Read Free

seen her—five years ago.
    The memory returned with shocking force…the weeklong house party at the country estate of his friend Oliver Randall. The excitement he felt, knowing Danielle, her mother and aunt would be among the guests. Ollie Randall was the third son of the Marquess of Caverly, and the family estate, Woodhaven, was palatial.
    The weeklong visit was magical, at least for Rafe. Long,lazy afternoons spent with Danielle, evenings of dancing and the chance for them to steal a few moments alone. Then, two nights before week’s end, Rafe had stumbled upon a note, a brief message signed by Danielle. It was addressed to Oliver, had obviously been read and tossed away, and in it Dani invited Ollie to her room that night.
    I must see you, Oliver. Only you can save me from making a terrible mistake. Please, I beg you, come to my room at midnight. I will be waiting.
    Yours, Danielle
    Rafe felt torn between anger and disbelief. He was in love with Danielle and he had believed she loved him.
    It was only a few minutes after midnight that Rafe knocked, then turned the knob on Danielle’s door. When the door swung open, he saw his friend lying in bed with his betrothed.
    Lying naked beside the woman he loved.
    He could still remember the wave of nausea that had rolled through his stomach, the awful, terrible feeling of betrayal.
    It rose again now as the music in the ballroom reached a crescendo. Rafe fixed his gaze on the orchestra, determined to dispel the unwanted memories, to bury them as he had done five years ago.
    He spent the next hour dancing with the wives of his friends, then danced again with Mary Rose. A brief speech was made by one of the co-chairwomen of the fund-raising event, and recognizing Flora Duval Chamberlain, he understood why Danielle had come.
    Or at least part of the reason.
    If there were others, he would never know. After the brief speeches ended and the dancing resumed, Rafe looked again across the ballroom.
    Danielle Duval was no longer there.

Two
    “D id you see the way he looked at her?” Smoothing back a curl of her heavy chestnut hair, Victoria Easton, Countess of Brant, sat on the brocade sofa in the Blue Drawing Room of the town house she shared with her husband and ten-month-old son. Her blond, elegantly lovely sister, Claire, Lady Percival Chezwick, and her best friend, Grace Sharpe, Marchioness of Belford, sat just a few feet away.
    “It was really quite something,” Grace said. “There was fire in that man’s eyes. I have never seen quite that expression on his face.”
    “He was probably just angry she had come,” Claire reasoned. “I wish I had been there to see it.”
    Tory had ordered tea but the butler had not yet arrived with the cart, though she could hear the wheels rattling down the marble-floored corridor on the other side of the door. “You weren’t there because you were home with Percy doing something far more fun than attending a benefit ball.”
    Claire giggled. She was the youngest of the women and, even after her marriage, still the most naive. “We had awonderful night. Percy is so romantic. Still, I should have enjoyed seeing a truly scarlet woman.”
    “I felt sorry for Rafael,” Grace said. “Rafe must have truly loved her. He tried to hide it, but he was furious, even after all these years.”
    “Yes, and Rafe rarely loses his temper,” Tory said. She sighed. “It’s terrible what she did to him. I’m surprised she fooled him so completely. Rafe is usually a very good judge of character.”
    “So exactly what did she do?” Claire asked, leaning forward in her chair.
    “According to Cord, Danielle invited a friend of Rafe’s into her bed—with Rafe and a number of guests just down the hall. He caught them and that was the end of their betrothal. It was all very public. The scandal followed him for years.”
    Grace smoothed a faint wrinkle in the skirt of her high-waisted apricot muslin skirt. “Danielle Duval is the reason Rafe is