by Barton, Anne
And yet, the idea of Hugh courting her made Ben want to slam his cane into his good knee and break the bloody stick clean in two.
“Did Lady Rose and Miss Honeycote agree that a house party would be a grand and welcome adventure?”
Hugh scratched his head. “Not in those words, exactly. Lady Rose is much more retiring than her sister—”
Ben snorted. “Everyone is more retiring than her sister.”
“True,” Hugh conceded. “Lady Rose seemed amenable, however.”
“And Miss Honeycote?” Ben focused on the spinning handle of his cane and feigned boredom.
“She seemed enthused at the prospect.”
“Did she?” Interesting. And dangerous. Didn’t she realize that if the second portrait was near Biltmore Manor, it was the worst possible place for her to be?
“She said something about needing a reprieve from balls and the like.” Hugh shook his head. “I thought young ladies lived for such entertainments.”
“I’d advise that you don’t attempt to figure out the workings of a woman’s mind. Not only is it futile, but it will give you the devil of a headache.” So, Daphne wanted to escape town and the constant fear of being recognized. He understood the desire to run, but it was too risky.
“If you are dead set on hosting a house party, I cannot stop you, but I don’t think you know what you’re getting into. The staff will not be prepared for a large gathering. Who would act as your hostess, planning menus and overseeing activities?”
“My housekeeper, Mrs. Norris, is accustomed to the role. She took on hostess duties after my mother died. I doubt anyone would be more excited at that prospect than she.”
Ben held out his empty glass and Hugh took the not-so-subtle hint. As he retrieved the glass and walked to the sideboard, he said, “I do hope you’ll stay, Foxburn, and not just because we’re short on gentlemen. I think it would be good for you to get out of your study—and socialize.”
Good grief, the last thing he needed was for Hugh to make him some kind of project. Didn’t he realize it was the other way around? The sooner Ben could fulfill his promise to Robert the better. And, now that he thought on it, maybe a house party that included several potential matches for Hugh—excluding Daphne—was actually a step in the right direction.
“I will consider it.”
Hugh beamed and handed Ben his glass, replenished with brandy. “I’m so glad to hear it.”
“Not because I need you to save me from my lonely, bitter life. I happen to like my life this way.”
“Yes, of course. I understand.”
Ben tossed back a healthy swig, welcoming the warm sting that traveled down his throat and settled in his chest. “Are we done here?”
Hugh laughed and slapped him on the back good-naturedly. “I suppose we are. You won’t regret this, Foxburn. We’re going to have a grand time.”
As his protégé bounded out of the room, Ben dragged a hand down his face. Damn, but he felt old. His leg throbbed and just the thought of traveling an entire day in a coach gave him the beginnings of a headache.
He had to talk to Daphne and make her aware of the risks if she attended. Charlton lived only a couple miles from Hugh’s country house. There was every possibility that she’d run into him at dinner or while riding or walking the grounds. And if Charlton did have the second portrait in his possession, he would recognize Daphne just as surely as Ben had.
He swallowed the rest of his drink in one gulp and hobbled out of the room, back to his study. There was no question—another meeting with Daphne was required.
The problem was, Ben looked forward to it far more than he should.
Chapter Eleven
Hatching: (1) A shading technique in which the artist draws a series of thin, parallel lines. (2) The act of devising a plan in the hope of preventing one’s monumental fall from grace.
The next day Daphne was blessedly busy preparing for her visit to the orphanage. First, she finished mending a pile of linens and blouses for the girls. Afterward, she ventured to the market to purchase some fresh fruit and a few other treats she’d promised them.
Anything to keep her mind off the latest note she’d received from Benjamin.
He’d hinted that he had a matter of some urgency to discuss with her and wanted to meet in the park again today. Since she already had plans to visit the foundling home, she’d written back, suggesting that they meet tomorrow instead.
In between her chores and errands, she managed to walk through the foyer at least thirteen times in the hopes that she’d find a letter on the silver salver on the side table. The butler had begun to look at her strangely, as though he resented her constantly encroaching on his territory.
But alas, there was no reply from Benjamin.
Mama planned to come along to the orphanage. She hadn’t been since before her trip to Bath and was eager to see the girls, whom she said reminded her of Anabelle and Daphne when they were young… and poor.
Which was not so long ago.
The grandfather clock gonged four times and Daphne plucked her bonnet from a hook beside the door. “Mama, please hurry. I want to spend some time with the girls outdoors before they go to dinner.”
“Coming, my dear.” Mama swept into the foyer wearing a fetching feathered hat. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I was engrossed in my book. The chapter ended with the heroine chained to a dungeon wall.”
“I read that one to you. Don’t you remember, she—”
“Stop!” Mama slapped her gloved hands over her ears with a vehemence that made Daphne giggle.
She’d read book after book to Mama during the dark days of her illness. Daphne thought that Mama had liked the stories. She’d certainly seemed to be listening, but due to her opium-induced haze, she remembered none of them.
“Where are the items for the girls?” Mama asked.
“The footmen put them in the coach already. Shall we go?”
Mama linked an arm through hers and they climbed into the duke’s luxurious cab and settled themselves against the plush velvet squabs. As they traveled across town, the buildings outside their windows became shabbier, and the streets became dirtier. With every week that she spent in the comfort of Mayfair, this part of town became more and more foreign.
As though privy to her thoughts, Mama said, “It seems so strange to ride down this street in a fancy coach, doesn’t it? A year ago we would have watched the coach through the dirty windows of our flat and wondered about the privileged people who rode inside. Now we are those people. But this place is a part of you, too, and it always will be.”
“I’m not ashamed of where I come from.”
“Anabelle’s worried about you. She thinks you’ve been much more reserved lately—as if something’s troubling you.” Mama patted her hand and gave it a little squeeze. “If there’s anything you want to discuss, anything I can help with, you must let me know. For months you took care of me, playing the part of the caregiver while I left you and Anabelle to struggle.”
“You did no such thing, Mama. You were ill.”
“Yes, but two young ladies should not have to fend for themselves in a city such as this. Especially gently bred women like you and your sister.”
“You must admit we did pretty well.”
Mama’s eyes grew suspiciously moist. “You did, and I couldn’t be more proud.”
Proud? Daphne felt approximately as big as a thimble. Mama would be so disappointed if she knew what she’d done, no matter how worthy the cause. Worse yet, Mama would blame herself for placing her daughter in a predicament where she deemed immoral behavior necessary.
“Anyway,” Mama said with a sniffle, “it is my turn to take care of you. You must think of yourself and your future. With your beauty and grace, you will have your pick of gentlemen. Make no apologies for who you are. Let your inner light shine.”
The problem was she had. She’d let it shine a little too much. “I’ll try, Mama.”
The coach
rolled up in front of the foundling home, an old building that looked as neglected as the poor wee ones inside. The stone rubble front was crumbling in many spots, and paint was peeling on the few shutters that hadn’t already come unhinged and fallen off. Imposing iron bars surrounded the ground-floor windows, whether to keep intruders out or the children in, Daphne couldn’t say. Either way, a depressing thought.
She and Mama carried two baskets each to the front door and were greeted almost immediately by a ruddy-faced maid who cheerfully relieved Mama of her load. “Yer looking awfully well, Mrs. Honeycote. Wonderful to see ye again, it is. The children are in the courtyard getting their daily exercise. They’ll be so pleased to see ye.”
“We’ll see ourselves to the yard, Maisey,” Daphne said. “Would you please take these baskets to the kitchen? The other two are linens and a few new articles of clothing.”
“God bless ye, miss. These girls grow like weeds, and the dresses they outgrow are so worn out they’re barely worth passing down. Even this poor lot turn up their noses at ’em. They’d rather wear somethin’ too small for ’em than someone else’s rags.”
“I should think every girl deserves at least one pretty dress,” Mama said thoughtfully. “Maisey, would you ask the director if I might have a moment of her time? I have an idea. Daphne, I’ll see you outside presently.”
She and the maid walked upstairs while Daphne headed down the long corridor leading to the courtyard. She passed several chilly, dark classrooms and other closed doors, which she supposed were the staff’s living quarters. When she stepped outside, however, sunlight warmed her face and her heart squeezed at the sight of the girls playing hopscotch, jumping rope, reading, and gossiping.
“Miss Honeycote!” a little girl squealed, sparking a small mob of adorable urchins that surged around Daphne.
“Did you bring us some sweets?”
“Do you have the green ribbon you promised me?”
“Look at the awful scrape on my knee!”
Daphne smiled and embraced as many girls as she could reach her arms around. “Let’s see. No to the sweets, but I did bring some lovely oranges. Yes to the green ribbon, and some other colors to share.”
“But the green is just for me, right?” Mary implored.
Daphne cupped the young girl’s cheeks in her palms. “Yes, the green is just for you—to match your pretty eyes. Now, Caro, let’s have a seat on the bench and you may show me your skinned knee.”
The girls gradually resumed their activities, while Daphne and Caroline sat beneath the shade of the courtyard’s only tree—a small one at that. Caroline immediately placed her worn boot on the bench and bent her knee toward her body. The large scrape had scabbed over, and if Daphne was not mistaken, a little mud appeared to be caked on as well. “Look,” Caro whined. “Did you ever see anything so ugly in all your life?”
Daphne placed a finger on her cheek as though pondering the question. “Yes. Yes, I have. I once saw a drawing of a two-headed snake, and it was uglier than that. But not by much, if you want to know the truth.”
Caro nodded soberly.
“Now tell me, how on earth did this happen?”
“I was climbing the fence back there”—she jerked a thumb toward the wrought-iron fence that separated the yard from the alley behind the orphanage—“and I fell.”
Daphne blinked. This was much more serious than a scraped knee. “Why would you do such a thing, Caro? Was someone bullying you? Were you trying to get away?”
“Nah.” She grimaced as though insulted at the suggestion that she’d shy away from a fight. “Nan dared me, and I wanted to see if I could do it.”
“Well. I guess we know the answer to that question.”
She bobbed her head of short, matted strawberry-blond hair. “I can,” she said proudly.
“From the looks of it, however, things did not end well,” Daphne pointed out.
“I made it over the fence just fine—landed on both feet. But then I had some trouble getting back in. I couldn’t go around to the front door. Mrs. Higgins would have taken a switch to my backside.”
“I can certainly understand why that would be a deterrent.”
“She doesn’t hit hard, but it’s humiliating.”
“Of course,” Daphne sympathized. “So, you injured your knee when you were climbing back into the courtyard?”
Caro nodded. “The lace of my boot caught on the gate’s hinge and tripped me. You should have seen it, Miss Honeycote. Blood was oozing out right here, and it dripped right down my shin and stained my stocking.” She yanked it up and proudly displayed the small brown stain.
“You are very brave, indeed.” Daphne wrapped her arms around the girl’s thin but surprisingly strong shoulders. “You remind me a little of my sister. She’s very courageous, too. I will tell you the same thing I would tell her. You mustn’t ever try something as foolish as that again. You could have been badly hurt, or kidnapped by a stranger…”
“Like him?” Caro pointed to the back door of the orphanage.
Daphne looked up, pressing a hand to her forehead in order to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun that had just started dipping behind the building.
“Benjamin?” She said his name aloud, momentarily forgetting that Caro sat beside her.
“Who’s Benjamin?”
“Er, Lord Foxburn. He’s an acquaintance of mine.”
With his cane in one hand, he strode toward them, the picture of sinewy strength and masculinity.
“He looks important,” Caro announced. “And handsome, for someone that old.”
Before Daphne could formulate a response, he reached them.
“Hello,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to meet in an orphanage. In a courtyard full of girls, he looked like Gulliver, profoundly out of place and outnumbered.
“What are you doing here?” Daphne asked. Caro jabbed her in the ribs with a pointy elbow. “Ow.”
Benjamin chuckled. “Maybe you should introduce me to your friend.”
“Forgive me,” Daphne said between clenched teeth. “Lord Foxburn, this is Miss Caroline.”
“Hadley,” Caroline amended. “Miss Caroline Hadley.” Daphne chided herself for not using her surname. Not all the orphans had one, but Caro did, and she was rather proud of it.
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Caroline Hadley.” Benjamin shook Caro’s grubby little hand as though she were a countess and not a poor little sprite with no family.
“What’s wrong with your leg?” she asked bluntly.
“I was shot.” He inclined his head toward her knee. “What’s wrong with your leg?”
She shrugged. “I took a dare. I don’t need a cane, though.”
“Pity.”
“Yes.” The little imp crossed her arms and stared at Benjamin, sizing him up. After several seconds, she turned to Daphne. “I like him.”
“Caro, it’s not polite to talk about a person as if he’s not there.”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing now?”
Daphne sighed. Caro was precocious. And correct. “You only have a few minutes until they ring the bell for dinner. Why don’t you run around for a bit?”
“I shall try.” She limped a little as she walked away but soon began chasing after a rubber ball, keeping up with girls a head taller than she.
Benjamin sat on the bench. “I believe she’s cured.”
Her mind still grappled with the idea that he was here. At the orphanage. The cut of his dark blue jacket emphasized his broad shoulders and tapered torso. His right leg—the injured one—was just inches from hers, and she couldn’t help staring at his thigh. Covered in smooth, snug buckskin, it looked perfectly normal. In fact, far better than average.
Dragging her gaze away, she asked, “Why did you come?”
“I told you—we need to talk. I understand your mother is with the director?”
Daphne glanced over her shoulder at the building. “She’ll pro
bably join me soon.”
“It’s about Hugh’s house party. I hope you’re not planning to attend.”
She drew back like she’d received a slap across the face. Hadn’t they reached an understanding? Weren’t they working together? Maybe he was concerned that she still had designs on Lord Biltmore. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Are you worried that Lord Biltmore will get the wrong impression?”
“No.” He drew his dark brows together. “Though that’s a distinct possibility. It’s too risky for you to come. What if Charlton does have the second portrait?”
“I hope he does. Then we would at least know where it is, and you could try to purchase it for me. There’s very little I can do to extract myself from this mess, and I dislike being so dependent on you—”
His head snapped up. “You haven’t even given me a chance to prove myself.”
Oh dear. “I didn’t mean to suggest you are unreliable. I just wish I could fix things on my own. I liked the idea of attending Lord Biltmore’s house party because then, at least, I could be near the action—feel like I was contributing in some small way.”
“You can’t help with this. In fact, you shouldn’t be within a twenty-mile radius of the painting. If Charlton saw you, he’d almost certainly recognize you.”
“We don’t even know for sure if he has the painting. I realize there are risks, but there are risks involved in staying here as well. If Lord Charlton is half as timid as Thomas made him out to be, he’s not likely to spend much time socializing with Lord Biltmore and his house guests.”
Benjamin’s intense stare made her toes curl in her slippers. “You may have a point,” he conceded. “If Hugh invites Charlton to dinner, you could always plead a headache.”
“Precisely. And if I’m there, I won’t feel like a prisoner in the gallows waiting to hear what’s to become of me.”
“That’s courageous of you.” He said it as though he hadn’t realized she had it in her. Well, that made two of them.