The Handmaiden's Necklace Read Online Free PDF Page A

her, never once paid the slightest attention to her version of events. Instead, he had abruptly ended their betrothal, confirming what the gossipmongers said.
    Telling the world that Danielle Duval was not the innocent she pretended, but a scarlet woman who had conducted herself shamelessly, and with blatant disregard for her intended. She’d been shunned in society, banished to the country. Even her own mother had believed the tale.
    Dani’s vision blurred as she made her way through the garden. She rarely thought of Rafael and those awful days back then. But now she was here in London and Rafe was tossing the entire affair back in her face.
    She sniffed and fought back the tears she refused to let fall. She wouldn’t cry for Rafe, not again. She had wept more than enough for the man she had loved five years ago and she would never weep for him again.

Three
    R afe stood in the garden, angry and oddly disturbed as he watched Danielle’s elegant figure moving along the gravel path until she disappeared inside the house.
    He didn’t know what had possessed him to seek her out. Perhaps it was keeping his silence for all of these years. Whatever it was, instead of the satisfaction he was certain he would feel once he had confronted her, he was more troubled than ever.
    As she had done that night, Danielle had professed her innocence. He hadn’t believed her then and he didn’t believe her now. He’d read the note, after all, and he had two eyes in his head. Oliver had accepted Danielle’s invitation and he was there in her room, lying naked beside her in bed.
    Rafe had called the bastard out, of course. Ollie was supposed to be his friend.
    “I won’t meet you, Rafe,” Oliver had said. “I won’t fight you no matter what you do to me. We’ve been friends since we were boys, and there is no denying the fault is mine entirely.”
    “Why, Ollie? How could you do it?”
    “I love her, Rafael. I’ve always loved her. You know that better than anyone. When she asked me to come to her room, I found it impossible to refuse her invitation.”
    Rafael had known for years that his friend was in love with Danielle, had been in love with her since he was a youth in his teens. But Dani had never loved Ollie.
    Or so Rafe had thought. He had stupidly believed that Danielle loved him and not Oliver Randall, though Ollie had for years pursued her. After that night, he had come to believe she had accepted Rafe’s offer of marriage simply to become a duchess. It was wealth and power she wanted, not him.
    As he walked out of the garden, he reminded himself of all those things, told himself that just as before, nothing Danielle said was the truth.
    But he was older now, not insane with jealousy, not blinded by love as he had been in those days, not furious and aching with pain.
    And because he was a different man than he had been back then, he couldn’t get the image out of his head. He couldn’t forget the way Danielle had looked at him there in the garden.
    Without a shred of remorse, without the slightest hint of embarrassment. She had looked at him with all of the hatred that Rafe had felt for her.
    No, Rafael. It was you who betrayed me. If you had loved me…you would have known I was telling you the truth.
    The words nagged at him, gnawed at his insides all the way back to Sheffield House. Was it possible? Was there the slightest chance?
    First thing the following morning, he sent a note to Jonas McPhee, the Bow Street runner he and his friends had used over the years whenever they needed information. McPhee was discreet and extremely good at his job, and he promptly arrived at Sheffield House at two o’clock that afternoon.
    “Good day, Jonas. Thank you for coming.”
    “I am happy to assist you, Your Grace, in any way I can.” The runner was short and balding, and wore small, wire-rimmed spectacles. He was an unimpressive man whose muscular shoulders and knotted hands were the only indication of the sort of work he