Dare to Risk it All (Daring Daughters Book 7)

by Emma V. Leech

  “What do you want of me?” he asked her, figuring they’d best get to the point.

  Bonnie shrugged. “Prove me right,” she said. “Jerry worries, but he’s a father. It’s in his nature, but I think you’re just the sort of son-in-law I’d like to have. You’ll fit in perfectly, but you must believe it too. I’ve seen the work you’ve achieved with Dare. You’ve done well, worked hard, and that pleases you, I think. Can you not find another similar outlet for your talents? Your own estate, perhaps? In the meantime, please look after Greer. Both her and Alana take after me, which means they’re magnets for trouble, especially when they’re unhappy. She’ll do something reckless to take her mind off it, I’m afraid. Don’t let her be unhappy, Raphe, not when it makes you so unhappy, too. We don’t care about your past, or about money. Never did, and we like you.”

  She gave his hand an affectionate pat and left him alone.

  Raphe stared after her, bewildered. Finding himself too mystified by her words to think straight, he made his way outside and stood in the frosty night air, hoping the chill would bring clarity. He thought about his past, about the fact that he had not a penny to his name and little chance of getting any. Bonnie hadn’t cared about that. Greer didn’t either. He did, though. The idea of marrying for money made his stomach roil. Except, if he married Greer, he wouldn’t be doing it for her money. Of course, no one else would believe that, but he’d put up with everyone believing the worst of him his entire life, so what difference would it make? His father’s suicide had tainted the family name, had coloured society’s view of him and made them think the worst. And he, fool that he was, had given them exactly what they’d expected of him.

  He considered his past and what he wanted from his future. Not more of the same. Rothborn thought he could do better, and he would, damn it. Bonnie was right. He had worked hard for Dare and he’d enjoyed it. He thought then about the only times in his life when he’d been happy since his father died and who was responsible for those times. His brothers, his friends—Dare, Bainbridge, and August. Rothborn. And Greer. The brief time he’d spent with Greer shone brightest of all. He wanted more of that, he realised. He wanted to bathe in the incandescent light she seemed to cast upon him whenever she was near, drawing him in.

  “You’re a blasted moth, Raphe,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

  “It’s the first sign of madness, talking to yourself.”

  “You’d know,” Raphe retorted, glancing around to discover Bainbridge at his side on the balcony.

  “Damn right I would.”

  They stood in companionable silence for a while, looking up at an endless sky, studded with thousands of stars.

  “Makes you think, doesn’t it?” Bainbridge gestured at the heavens. “About the future, about your part in it. We’re pretty insignificant in comparison, no matter what lofty title we’ve got, or how much blunt.”

  “You’ve changed,” Raphe observed, watching his friend with a smile.

  “Thank you,” Bainbridge said, beaming at him. “I’ve been trying bloody hard.”

  “You’re happy, I think.”

  “You think right. Marrying Arabella was the only sensible thing I ever did in my life. Thank God, it was the only thing that counted.”

  Raphe reflected on that, on what it might mean if he chose Greer for himself, if he took advantage of her infatuation with him. “Was it selfish?”

  Bainbridge snorted. “Of course it was bloody selfish! She could have done far better than me, but I wanted her the most, and I’ll work the hardest to make her happy because I know I don’t deserve her, so it all works out in the end. She’s happy too, though, and I did that. Not because I’m good or particularly nice or clever or any of that, but because I love her, and that’s what counts, you know.”

  “But you’re rich.”

  His friend shrugged that off with the careless indifference of a wealthy man. “Wouldn’t have made a difference. If I’d been in your position, I’d have acted just the same. Face it, Raphe. We’re all selfish devils. You, me, and Dare too. If you get Miss Cadogan to wife, we’ll all have married far better than we deserve. So what? If we don’t get them, some other lucky blighter will and I’m just not that good-natured, and nor are you. So what if she can do better? You bloody well can’t, and that’s the point.”

  Raphe’s heart gave an uneven lurch in his chest as he recognised the truth of his words.

  “We hardly know each other,” he pointed out.

  “So what? You’ve got years to do that.”

  Raphe laughed. “Christ, it’s come to a pretty pass when I listen to your advice.”

  Bainbridge grinned at him, his eyes glinting with amusement. “True, but I’m a changed man. For heaven’s sake, Raphe! Find Miss Cadogan and do some serious courting, before some other bugger steals a march on you. At least buy yourself some time to get to know each other.”

  Raphe nodded, excitement and hope fizzing beneath his skin, a combustible concoction that made him jittery with nervous energy. He had to see Greer. Now. This minute.

  “I will,” he said, clapping Bainbridge on the shoulder. “Thank you, Laurie. Thank you very much.”

  “Think nothing of it. Just call me the oracle from now on and tell everyone what a clever, sensible fellow I am, will you?”

  “Sod off!”

  “Well, there’s gratitude for you,” Bainbridge grumbled, but Raphe wasn’t listening. He needed to find Greer, because he had a great deal of apologising to do.

  Chapter 11

  Louis,

  The best revenge you could have upon those who wronged you so badly is to find happiness. I know I will never truly understand what you suffered, but you are free of that now. I wish I could take the memories away from you as easily as I took you from that evil place, but you have so many possibilities now. You have friends, and the duchess truly wishes for you to be a part of the family. She has welcomed me as she might a son, despite everything. I know she wishes to do the same for you, and I think she understands you are not as whole as you appear.

  I know how difficult you find this time of year, but perhaps with people who care for you at hand, you will not find it so hard to bear. Please, Louis. I know you will not try on your own account, so do it for me, and Agatha, and for your Miss Evie, who will be so disappointed if you do not appear as promised. You see, I am not above a little blackmail.

  I am afraid I will never let you alone, brother mine. Not so long as there is breath in me.

  ―Excerpt of a letter from Nicolas Alexandre Demarteau to his brother Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen—translated from French.

  Still the night of the 13th of December 1840, Royle House, Derbyshire.

  Greer had almost escaped the ballroom, but looked up with a start as Aisling caught her arm.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to complete my dare,” Greer replied, putting up her chin. She knew her timid friend would try to stop her, but tonight was the night, she had decided.

  Aisling’s eyes grew wide with shock. “What, now?”

  Greer nodded. She often made momentous decisions on the spur of the moment, and it was a dreadful idea, but she was unsettled and unhappy and cross with herself for it.

  She had no one to blame but herself. Elspeth had warned her what Raphe was, as if she hadn’t known already. He didn’t want to marry, and it was none of her business if he was lonely and unhappy. Raphe was a grown man and did not need some silly chit of a girl to force him into wedlock with some misguided belief that she could mend him. Romantic nonsense. Not everyone had exciting stories of courtship and happy marriages. She knew that. Perhaps her own story would be dull and predictable. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be happy. Mr Norris, with whom she’d danced earlier, was a perfectly pleasant fellow, and he’d been very nice. He’d clearly admired her and offered her some pretty, if clumsy, compliments. Raphe might be far more intriguing, and fun, and he might make her skin burn and he
r stomach squirm every time he was near, but those were only shallow attractions that would fade. His problems were his own. She couldn’t fix him, certainly not if he had no desire to be fixed. It would be a disaster and they would make each other wretched. So, she’d had a lucky escape and had better put it behind her and move on.

  “Are you well, Greer?”

  Aisling’s lovely face paled with concern.

  “Of course,” Greer said briskly. There was no point in feeling sorry for herself. Wallowing was too self-indulgent. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. There are bound to be some spare maid uniforms in the laundry. I shall nip downstairs and smuggled one up to my room. Then I’ll come down again as a maid and carry some trays to the refreshment room or something. It will be easy. There are so many people here, no one will notice me.”

  “Oh, but, Gee,” Aisling exclaimed. “If someone recognises you—”

  “No one will. No one ever notices servants at a ball like this. They’re far too interested in themselves and the other guests, and I’ve got to complete it sometime. I’d rather get it over with before I worry too much about it.”

  Aisling looked rather like she might be sick, but she steeled herself and put up her chin. “C-Can I help?”

  Greer smiled at her, touched that she would offer even though she clearly thought it a terrible idea. “You can play look out whilst I sneak downstairs, please.”

  Aisling nodded, mute and unhappy, and Greer bore her away before she could change her mind.

  Raphe did yet another circuit of the ballroom, but still found no sign of Greer. He pushed his way through the crowds, deciding to take another turn about the corridor and refreshments room in case he’d missed her there. There was an anxious sensation churning in his belly and a sense of foreboding he could not shake off. Bonnie’s warning about what Greer might do if she were unhappy kept ringing in his ears. The churning sensation heightened, with a growing sense of panic. She was unhappy because of him. He’d been hateful and hurt her feelings and he’d not even meant what he’d said. Of course he’d not known he hadn’t meant it, or at least he’d not yet admitted it to himself, but that was neither here nor there. This was his fault. He’d seduced her and then thrown her over as if she meant nothing to him, which was so far from the truth it made his throat tight with regret. Lord, he had to find her, had to explain that….

  He frowned, thrown from his anxious thoughts as he caught sight of a maid carrying a large tray of petits fours into the refreshments room. She walked quickly, head down, but there was something about her, a sense of energy that seemed strangely familiar.

  Following his instincts, Raphe moved to follow her. Surely, they’d not sent a lone maid to the refreshments room at this late hour? The guests would all be half seas over by now, and there were too many ignorant brutes who thought female servants were fair game. Before he took a step, Dare waylaid him, stalking towards him with a face like thunder.

  “What?” Raphe asked warily.

  “Is it true?”

  His friend’s anger was unmistakable, and Raphe felt guilt and regret coalesce in his stomach, cold and slimy with disgust.

  “Is what true?” Not that he needed to ask. The only question was how Dare had found out.

  “You and Greer.” Dare grabbed hold of his lapels and gave him a shake. “My wife’s sister, you bastard. What did you do? And don’t lie to me because I’ll know.”

  Raphe swallowed. “She’s still a virgin,” he said, feeling he’d sunk about as low as he could get. “But it’s not—I’m going to ask her to marry me,” he said in a rush.

  “Oh.” Dare’s face cleared instantly, and a smile broke over his face, delight in his eyes. “Oh, I say. That changes everything. That’s… That’s marvellous. We’ll be brothers-in-law!”

  His friend gave a bark of laughter and Raphe let out a sigh of relief for Dare’s good-natured friendship. He never could stay angry with anyone.

  “She’s not said yes yet,” Raphe said gloomily. “And I’m afraid I’ve made a bloody mess of everything. I think she’s angry with me.”

  Dare snorted and gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “Don’t worry, old man. If Bainbridge and I can make such spectacular messes and still come up smelling of roses, I don’t doubt you can manage it too.”

  Raphe made a sound of amusement but was not reassured. “Who told you, anyway?”

  “Oh, Mrs Hampton, the damned busybody. She told Elspeth in confidence as she had no proof… ‘just a suspicion you understand, my dear,’” Dare added, doing a passable imitation of the old cow’s grating voice.

  “Bainbridge was with us. Appeared like ghost at just the right moment. I could have kissed him. If she’d come in a few minutes earlier, we’d have been in hot water,” Raphe admitted.

  Dare covered his ears. “Don’t tell me!” he cursed, glaring at Raphe. “Elspeth will question me, and I don’t want to know.”

  Raphe grimaced. “Sorry. You’ve not seen Greer, have you? I think she’s avoiding me.”

  Dare shook his head. “Sorry, old man. Look, I’d best get back to Elspeth and tell her I don’t need to murder you, for now at least. If I see Greer, I’ll send someone to fetch you.”

  Raphe nodded his thanks and Dare walked away. Frowning, he remembered he’d been going to the refreshments room. As he grew closer, he knew his instincts had been correct as he heard raucous laughter coming from inside.

  It was generally the younger men who became peckish at this late hour, needing something to soak up the booze. Raphe walked in and found three young bucks together, one of whom was trying to chat up the maid and doing a poor job of it. The girl had her back to them, hurriedly gathering up the empty trays, and the fellow reached out and gave her bottom a hard pinch.

  There was a squeal of fury and, before Raphe could intervene, the girl had whacked the fellow over the head with a tray. There was a dull ringing sound, and the man staggered for a second before lunging at her.

  “Why, you little bitch—”

  Raphe didn’t think, he just moved, pushing between the maid and irate guest. With a sinking feeling, he recognised Lord Plumpton, a spoilt, arrogant twit whose mother was one of the ton’s most influential matrons.

  “Come now, Plumpton. The young lady is just going about her business. She’s not here for your entertainment.”

  Plumpton, who had certainly drunk more than was good for him, sneered at Raphe. “Want her for yourself, do you? Well, you can have what’s left. I saw her first.”

  He tried to push past Raphe, who shoved him backwards to keep him from the girl, who was now hiding behind him.

  “She’s not a light skirt, for heaven's sake! If that’s the kind of entertainment you’re after, go elsewhere.”

  “She’s here, and I want her,” the bastard said, a belligerent light shining in his eyes.

  “You tell him, Plummy!”

  His two friends egged him on, both drunk as wheelbarrows. Christ, Raphe hoped he’d never been this disgusting when in his cups. But he felt revulsion all the same for the time he’d lost to drinking and dissipation.

  Plummy stood a little taller, swaying gently.

  “I know you,” he said with a sneer. “You’re that worthless baron. De Ligne, isn’t it? I remember. Pa said your father was a waste of space, knew it too. Killed himself, didn’t he? Good job. No money, no spine. Best thing for him. Why don’t you toddle off and do the same?”

  He made a shooing motion, as if Raphe was beneath his notice. Raphe struggled to hold on to his temper. He did not have time for this, he reminded himself. Finding Greer and asking her forgiveness, asking for permission to court her, that was what was important. This little tosspot had said nothing he hadn’t heard before. He could ignore it. All he need do was get the girl safe away from him.

  Raphe turned his back on the drunkards to speak to the girl… and froze.

  Satan’s balls!

  Raphe’s heart climbed up his throat as he saw the po
tential for scandal in the powder keg he’d just walked into. Greer. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. But it was her. The desire to ask her what the devil she was up to burned on his tongue, but he swallowed it down.

  The disguise might have fooled from a distance, but not close up. She had pulled her thick blonde hair ruthlessly back off her face and secured it in a tidy bun, and wore a pair of spectacles. They were clearly not her own as they made her eyes look too big in her face and yet she was squinting as though she was struggling to see. The twin flags of colour burning high on her cheeks told him she knew as well as he did what a bloody situation they were in.

  “Oi! I said clear off.”

  Raphe staggered as Plummy shoved him hard in the back, sending him almost crashing into Greer. She gasped, stumbling back against the wall and dropping the empty trays she held, which fell with a great clatter. Raphe righted himself, turning to face Plumpton.

  “I’m going,” he said, his face rigid with the effort of holding his temper in check. The desire to teach this crass bastard a lesson was hard to deny, but he could not cause a scandal. Rothborn would never forgive him. If Greer was involved, he’d never be able to forgive himself. “But the young lady is coming with me.”

  He took a firm hold of Greer’s arm and began steering her away.

  “Oh, no you don’t.”

  The three men crossed the room, blocking the only exit.

  Raphe’s heart beat in his throat. He badly wanted to thrash them. That it was three upon one barely registered. The desire for a good mill was a thrum of excitement in his blood, calling to the worst part of his nature, the one he’d not bothered to deny until recently. Greer was with him, though, and he could not have her hurt or embarrassed.

  “Let her go, and I’ll give you the fight you want,” he offered, seeing no other way out of this now. All he could do was keep Greer safe.

  The bastard Plumpton shook his head. “Oh no. I think we’ll have our little tussle and the girl. I’ll need someone to kiss me better, won’t I? Are you going to give me a little bruise? I don’t reckon you’ve got it in you. Reckon you’re a coward like your father.”