The Handmaiden's Necklace. Kat Martin

is not yet lost,” Tory said to Grace, leaning forward to pour the steaming brew into three gold-rimmed porcelain cups. “You gave Rafael the necklace, so there is still a ray of hope.”

      Rafe had been instrumental in saving Grace’s life and that of her newborn baby. She had wanted her friend to find the happiness she had found with Ethan, so she had given the duke a very special gift. The Bride’s Necklace, an ancient piece of jewelry made in the thirteenth century for the bride of the Lord of Fallon. The necklace, it was said, carried a curse—it could bring great joy or terrible tragedy, depending on whether or not its owner’s heart was pure.

      “I suppose you’re right,” Grace agreed. “Rafe has the necklace, so there is yet a chance for him to find happiness.”

      Claire toyed with the handle on her teacup. “What if all the things that happened to you and Tory were just strange coincidences and nothing at all to do with the necklace? It could be, you know.”

      Tory sighed, knowing her sister might be right. “It’s possible, I guess, but…” But Tory couldn’t help thinking of the time the necklace had belonged to her, of the wonderful man she had married and their beautiful infant son, Jeremy Cordell, who was asleep in the nursery upstairs.

      She couldn’t help remembering that she had given the necklace to Grace, who had met Ethan and saved him from the darkness that surrounded him. Grace, who now also had a wonderful husband and son.

      And there was her stepfather, Miles Whiting, Baron Harwood, an evil man who had owned the necklace and now lay moldering in his grave.

      Tory shivered, shoving away the unwanted thought. “We know Rafe has a good heart. We can only hope the necklace will work.”

      Claire looked up from studying the leaves in the bottom of her teacup. “Maybe the duke will fall in love with Mary Rose. That would be the perfect solution.”

      Tory cast Grace a look and tried not to grin when Grace rolled her eyes. “That is a very good notion, Claire. Perhaps he will.”

      But when she thought of the searing glance Rafe had tossed at Danielle Duval, she couldn’t make herself believe it.

      “Please, Aunt Flora. I simply cannot do it. How can you even think of asking me to go through that again?”

      They were standing in Danielle’s bedchamber, in their elegant suite at the Chesterfield Hotel, a lovely room done in shades of gold and dark green. Aunt Flora had let the rooms for the next two weeks, until their ship set sail for America.

      “Come, now, dearest. This is an entirely different sort of affair. To begin with, this is an afternoon tea, not a ball, and a number of the children will be there. You know how you love children, and you are always so good with them.”

      Dani toyed with the sash on her blue quilted wrapper. It was not yet noon. The benefit tea would begin in a little over an hour. “The affair may be different, but I will be shunned, just as I was before. You saw how people treated me.”

      “Yes, I did, and I was proud of the way you conducted yourself. You made it clear you had every right to be there. I thought you handled the situation beautifully.”

      “I was miserable, every single moment.”

      Aunt Flora sighed dramatically. “Yes, well, I am truly sorry about the duke.” She looked up at Dani from beneath a set of finely plucked, silver-gray eyebrows. “At least the man didn’t cause you any trouble.”

      Dani didn’t mention the angry look he had tossed her, or the furious expression he couldn’t quite hide. “He would have been sorry if he had said even one word.”

      “Well, he won’t be there this time, I promise you.”

      She glanced down at her aunt, who was a good eight inches shorter and quite a few stone heavier. “How can you be so certain?”

      “It was merely a fluke the last time. An afternoon tea is hardly the sort of affair that would interest a duke. Besides, I wouldn’t ask you to go if I were feeling up to snuff. Lately I’ve been a bit under the weather.” She coughed lightly for effect, hoping to make Dani feel guilty.

      Instead, Danielle saw it as a last thin ray of hope. “Perhaps, since you are ill, it would be best if you stayed home, as well. We can have some nice hot tea and fresh scones sent up and—”

      Aunt Flora stopped her words. “As co-chairwoman of the society, I have duties, responsibilities. As long as you are with me, I shall be fine.”

      Dani’s shoulders sagged. How did her aunt always manage to get her way? Then again, Aunt Flora had agreed to accompany her on the difficult journey to America. She would be there for Dani’s wedding and remain until she was settled with her husband in her new home. Surely she could buck up enough to make it through this last fund-raising event before they departed.

      And, as Aunt Flora had said, the children would be there. There would be at least a few friendly faces to get her through the afternoon affair.

      A knock at the door drew her attention. An instant later, the door swung open and her lady’s maid, Caroline Loon, walked in.

      Caro smiled widely. “Lady Wycombe sent for me. Shall I help you pick out something to wear?”

      Dani rolled her eyes, thinking that she hadn’t had a chance from the start.

      “Well, then I shall leave you to dress,” Aunt Flora said, making her way out the door. “You may join me as soon as you are ready.”

      Giving in to her fate, Dani made a resigned nod of her head, and as soon as the door was closed, Caro hurried over to the armoire against the wall. At six-and-twenty, a year older than Dani, Caroline Loon was taller and more slenderly built, a blond woman, attractive in a different sort of way, with an incredibly sweet disposition.

      Caro was a gently reared young lady whose parents had died unexpectedly of a fever. Penniless and orphaned, she had arrived at Wycombe Park nearly five years ago, desperate for any sort of employment.

      Aunt Flora had immediately hired her as Danielle’s lady’s maid, but over the years, the two of them had become far more than mistress and maid. Caroline Loon, a vicar’s daughter likely destined for spinsterhood, had become her best friend.

      Caro opened the door of the armoire. Though most of Dani’s clothes were packed away in heavy leather trunks in preparation for her journey, a modest assortment of gowns hung inside.

      “What about the saffron muslin embroidered with roses?” Caro asked, dragging out one of Dani’s favorite gowns.

      “I suppose the saffron gown will do well enough.” If she had to go to the blasted tea, she intended to look as good as she possibly could, and wearing the bright yellow muslin always made her feel pretty.

      “Sit down and I’ll do up your hair,” Caro instructed. “Lady Wycombe will have my head if you make her late for her tea.”

      Danielle sighed. “I swear, between the two of you, I am surprised I ever get to make a decision.”

      Caro just laughed. “She loves you. She is determined you return to society. She wants you to be happy.”

      “I’ll be happy—once I’m on my way to America.” Dani reached over and took hold of Caro’s slim, long-boned hand. “I am only grateful that you have agreed to go with us.”

      “I am glad to be going along.” Caro managed a smile. “Perhaps we will both find a new life in the Colonies.”

      Dani smiled, as well. “Yes, perhaps we will.” Danielle certainly hoped so. She was tired of her nonexistent life, tired of being hidden away in the country with few friends and only an occasional visit from the children in the orphanage to look forward to. She was eager for the chance to make a new life in America, where no one had ever heard of The Scandal.

      In the meantime, she had to find the courage to get through her aunt’s miserable tea.

      Rafael