“That is not what I heard.” The former spy inclined her head and arched a brow. “And I would thank you not to intrude on our family gatherings, as you are not welcome.”
“Why can you not leave us in peace, Almira?” Dalton stood. “Why can you not be happy for me? What did I ever do to you? And, as I told you, our arrangement is ended.”
“You do not throw me over, Sir Dalton.” Lady Moreton lowered her chin. “I am a lady of noble blood, widow of a great man, and you are nothing more than a second son.”
“You dare call yourself a lady?” Daphne shot to her feet. “Given your shameful behavior with Lord Sheldon and Sir Dalton, I wonder how you refer to yourself as such and maintain your composure. And I may be a backwater girl, but I would rather hail from a dignified if unfashionable Portsea Island upbringing than a cosmopolitan lifestyle that ranks iniquitous self-gratification above honor and respectability. Now I say good day to you, ma’am.”
Clutching a hand to her throat, Lady Moreton gasped, and her mouth fell agape. It was then Daphne noted the hushed whispers, as the patrons remarked on the confrontation. Unsure how to respond, she glanced at Dalton for reassurance, but he appeared too shocked to respond.
Without a word, Lady Moreton fled the establishment, and the murmurs grew louder. To the right, a group of older women stared at Daphne, and then one raised her glass, in toast.
“Well she will think twice before tangling with you again.” Rebecca beamed as a proud mama. “Nicely played, Daphne.”
“That was bloody brilliant.” Dirk clucked his tongue. “By God, but our mother could not have done better.”
“Are you positive she would approve?” Daphne reclaimed her chair, as the business resumed normal service in the wake of her brief contretemps, and Dalton had yet to offer his perspective of her exchange with Lady Moreton. “As I let my emotions get the best of me, and I should apologize. In my defense, I was born a Harcourt, and we are notorious for our quick tempers.”
“You were born to be a Randolph.” To her surprise, Dalton came alert, brought her hand to his lips, and pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “And I should gift you diamonds, as I am in your debt, in more ways than one.”
“I beg your pardon?” In confusion, Daphne blinked, as he owed her nothing. “Given our arrangement, how could you be obligated to me?”
“Because you may have just rid us of the importuning Lady Moreton, once and for all.”
#
The Eddington’s massive ballroom reigned as a favorite of Dalton’s, because it contained a vast array of nooks and crannies perfect for an illicit tryst, and in the great hall he had engaged in numerous clandestine rendezvous amid the shadows. But on that night he had promised himself to remain on his best behavior, for Daphne’s sake, as they returned to the ton’s stage, as a dubious pair.
As he had anticipated, many partygoers, most he would describe as hypocrites, gave him a wide berth. Whispers and hushed murmurs greeted their arrival, and several women turned their backs on Dalton and Daphne, but his resilient rustic wavered not an inch. When he spied his newfound enemy, he flinched.
“What in bloody hell is Lady Moreton doing here?” He anchored Daphne at his side. “I do not like this. Almira is up to something.”
“Perhaps she received her invitation prior to our confrontation, and the Eddington’s did not wish to offend her.” Daphne peered at him, frowned, and flexed her fingers as she clutched his arm. “Is that not why we enjoy the same hospitality, because Lord Eddington could not rescind the summons without committing a breach in social etiquette?”
“I suppose that explains her presence, but we are welcome because Lord Eddington is a very good friend of my brother’s.” The termagant lurked as a jungle cat preparing to pounce, and he raised his defenses, as he scanned the vicinity for Lord Sheldon, given the two were thick as thieves. “Promise me you will remain with a member of our family, in my absence, for the length of the celebration.”
“But I am not afraid of her,” Daphne declared in a low voice. “As we have no more secrets between us, she can not hurt us.”
In the four days since the confrontation with Lady Moreton, Dalton had conferred with his bride-to-be and divulged every dirty tale of debauchery and devilry, going back to his years at Eton and Oxford, and including his particularly licentious tenure as a midshipman. While it had been painful to catalogue his nefarious capers for the gently bred virgin, and she had consumed impressive amounts of brandy during his bawdy recitations, he had been determined to spare no detail, which might function as an impediment to wedded bliss.
“Sweetheart, trust me. There is much mischief she can instigate, given we are minus a few allies.” Everett and Sabrina remained at home, with their new baby. And just prior to departing for the festivities, Dalton had received word that Cara had gone into labor, and Lance had opted to forgo the party and stay with his wife. Yet he could not blame his family for his predicament. For the umpteenth time, he wondered whatever possessed him to get involved with the widow, but he could not undo the past. “And Almira Moreton is a master of manipulation.”
“But you said we were rid of her, so why would she target us?” Daphne fidgeted with her diamond necklace, which he had gifted her in the wake of the set-to with Lady Moreton. True to form, his pretty provincial had protested the extravagance, until he threatened to throw the expensive bauble in the refuse. Only then had she acquiesced and accepted the matching earrings and bracelet, too. “And everyone watches her.”
“So I had presumed, but I can think of no other reason for her attendance.” And he could not shake the overwhelming sensation that Almira would seek vengeance. “In light of your haphazard revelation concerning her involvement in my discreditable activities, she needs no reason to fix on you. And Lady Moreton can hold a grudge like no one’s business. Do not be fooled by her delicate appearance, as she is a formidable adversary.”
“Then I shall be vigilant and do exactly as you suggest.” Despite her charming smile, the rigid set of her jaw betrayed her discomfit, and he hated ruining the otherwise fanciful evening for her. “Am I, at last, permitted to save all my waltzes for you? Is it permissible to make that statement, given our intent to wed, as I would rather eschew any other man’s embrace?”
“My angel, I command it, as I could not bear to see you in another man’s embrace.” To his inexpressible joy, she glowed. “And I might be persuaded to give you a tour of the Eddington’s library, if you are good.”
“Define ‘good,’ my gallant knight.” With a flirty titter, she licked her lips. “And I shall do whatever you wish.”
“Careful, my dear Miss Harcourt.” He bit back a groan, as everything inside him came alert at her innocent but inspiring proclamation. “I would not compromise you until the vows have been spoken, but you test my fortitude.”
“Am I so special?” The initial notes of the first waltz signaled the crowd, and he escorted her to the dance floor. “Given your extensive experience?”
“Would it shock you were I to admit I have wanted you since you bent over the tea stores in the Siren’s hold?” He arched a brow and hugged her tight about the waist. “Have I scandalized you?”
“Hardly, as I am well acquainted with your comedic nature, Sir Dalton.” Daphne squealed, as he twirled her in the rotation. “If you recall, I wore a hood, so my face was shrouded. How could you know anything of me?”
“I knew more than enough that night.” As always, he could not contain his laughter, when her arresting naïveté charged the fore. “Especially with you sporting those tight breeches, and I look forward to our honeymoon and a lengthy survey of your delectable derriere. Never let anyone tell you to be ashamed of your figure, angel.”
“Dalton.” Her attempt at reproach failed when she grinned. “So that is where your interest lies? And I had thought you partial to my mind.”
“Oh, I want that, too.” He reversed course. “I want to possess every part of you, my angel.”
When the dance ended, he led his lady to the edge of the throng. As the sea of bejeweled revelers parted, he noted a familiar visage and steered for the entrance.
“Where are we going?” Daphne inquired. “Your family is gathered in the back.”
“There is someone I want you to meet.” Standing before the grandest dame of the ton, Dalton drew up short, clicked his heels, and pulled Daphne to his side. “Miss Daphne Harcourt, may I present Lady Elizabeth, dowager viscountess of Wainsbrough and my mother.”
#
“Oh, my.” Daphne jerked, half-bowed, and then sketched a proper curtsey. Why had Dalton given her no warning? “Lady Elizabeth, I am so honored to make your acquaintance.”
“Are you not a delightful little thing. Please, you must call me Beth, as my son tells me we are to be family.” The poised noblewoman inclined her head and smiled. “And I wager I am far more excited to meet you than you are to meet me. Perhaps we can get to know each other, over tea, tomorrow.”
“I would love that.” In an instant, Daphne decided she liked her future mother-in-law.
“Wonderful.” The dowager extended a hand and flicked her fingers. “But now I would ask my youngest to favor me with a dance.”
“Of course, Mama.” Just as fast, Dalton jerked and glanced at Daphne. “If you will permit me to return Miss Daphne to—”
“Stuff and nonsense.” Daphne shooed her overly protective one true knight. “Indulge your mother. I know where to find Elaine and Celia, so I will be fine. And we are in the middle of a crowded ballroom. What could possibly happen?”
With that thought swirling in her brain, Daphne turned on a heel and weaved through the crush. After admiring a massive spring arrangement, which boasted a mix of roses, daisies, and snapdragons, she ventured into the shadows, where she located the youngest and quietest member of the odd extended family.
“Lucien claimed Celia for the quadrille.” Elaine drew Daphne behind a large bust perched atop a pedestal. “Do you see them? I feared Celia might burst, she was so excited.”
“How marvelous.” Daphne glimpsed the happy couple, and Celia emanated unutterable elation, as she gazed at the young sea captain. “Oh, no. She tripped.”
“She refuses to admit it, but she is smitten with him.” Elaine scooted lower. “And he is interested in her.”
“How do you know?” She craned her neck to gain a better vantage. “Have you heard something?”
“That is the benefit of blending into the background, as people do not hide what they believe others neither perceive nor detect. Watch and learn, my pretty friend.” With a muffled chortle, Elaine tugged Daphne to the other side of the column. “Men are not so difficult to read, as the clues are in their conduct. See how his fingers linger with hers, he licks his lips, when he meets her stare, and look how he admires her, when he thinks her unaware. She has caught his special attention, though he may not yet know it.”
“Does Dalton act in similar fashion, with me?” Daphne searched her memories for any relevant hints. “Have you noted any singular habits?”
“Indeed.” And then Elaine remained silent.
“Well?” Daphne shook Elaine. “What have you noticed?”
“Check his bearing.” The serene noblewoman pointed. “He searches for you, even in the company of Lady Elizabeth. When in deep conversation with the boys, Dalton adores you with his eyes. And when you stand within arm’s reach, he can’t stop himself from touching you, however brief the contact. I have witnessed such behavior, before, with my married brothers.”
“He cares for me.” It was a statement, not a question, and her knees buckled. Crouched in the Eddington’s ballroom with Elaine, Daphne realized Dalton had spoken the truth, when he claimed an emotional attachment. No, his had not been an attestation of undying love, but her one true knight harbored something for her, and that was better than nothing. In that moment, her heart sang.
“There is Sir Ross.” Elaine lurched upright and grabbed Daphne’s hand. “I would speak with him, but I promised Dalton I would not leave you alone.”
“Go to him.” Daphne grasped Elaine by the shoulders and gave her a gentle push. “As I can manage on my own.”
As the orchestra segued into an allemande, Lady Elizabeth patted Dalton’s cheek and then exited the grand hall. The gallant knight peered left, then right, and started in Daphne’s direction. So when Lady Moreton threw herself into his path, Daphne came alert. The nettlesome woman gestured with wild and frantic movements, while Dalton attempted to evade his nemesis, but she yanked hard on his coat sleeve. Conscious of the multitude of witnesses, her beau rested fists on hips and thrust his chin. Just as Daphne considered intervening on Dalton’s behalf, someone covered her mouth with a palm, slipped what seemed as an iron band about her waist, pinning her arms, and lifted her feet from the floor.
In the dark, she struggled in vain, as her unknown assailant carried her along the back wall and navigated a small passage. At last, they slipped into a dimly lit chamber, which Daphne surmised was the study, because of the furnishings and the faint smell of cigar smoke.
“Now I am going to put you down, and if you raise the alarm, I will quiet you in a manner you may or may not enjoy, Miss Daphne.” In a flash, she recognized the voice and calmed. “Do you understand?”
She nodded.
“My but you look rather fetching tonight, in your cream ensemble.” Her kidnapper set her on terra firma, then trailed a finger along the curve of her breast, and she stomped his booted foot and wrenched free. “What a spitfire. No wonder Randolph favors you.”
“Lord Sheldon, why have you brought me here?” Daphne retreated a step and inhaled a shaky breath. “What do you want with me?”
“Can you not guess?” He studied her from top to toe. “Or are you that naïve?”
“Pray, I comprehend nothing in your outrageous manners.” Hugging herself, she withdrew and added more distance between them. “Why am I the unfortunate benefactor of your unwelcome flattery, sir?”
“Lady Moreton has a score to settle with you.” As if guessing her thoughts, the scoundrel positioned himself in the path to the door. “She asked for my assistance.”
“And you champion her spurious cause?” To her frustration, she could identify no other exit. “Have you no sense of decency?”
“No, I am not so encumbered.” He laughed, as he moved in her direction. “I am in it for the sport.”
“Is that what I am to you?” And then his heinous purpose dawned, and she shuddered. “You intend to compromise me.”
“My dear, I am many things, but I am no rapist. Almira merely requires me to give the impression that I have ruined you, and I am more than adequate to the task.” The devastatingly handsome but unscrupulous rogue cast a lazy smile, and she feared she might vomit. “But I caution you not to reject the meal, when you have yet to sample the main dish.”
“And what does she hope to achieve, aside from my embarrassment?” In a swift maneuver, Daphne skittered behind the massive desk, achieving a modicum of security. “As I am a provincial, I do not value society’s good opinion.”
“She suspects Dalton wishes to marry you.” He lunged, but she avoided him. “I am to ensure that never happens.”
“No matter what you try, you will fail.” In that second, Daphne’s confidence soared, as the reprobate could never succeed. “Because I love Dalton, and he cares for me. So do your worst, sir. You cannot hurt us.”
Lord Sheldon opened his mouth and then closed it. For a few seconds, he simply gawked at her. Then, to her surprise, he sat in the leather chair near the hearth. “Has Dalton told you of the time he cuckolded Lord Walton?”
“At Lady Darrow’s, after a visit to the theatre?” Daphne sank into the plush seat at her left and rested her elbows atop the blotter, as she fretted she might swoon. “Yes, I know the whole of it.”
“And what of the Heath affair?” Lord Sheldon fixed his stare on the ceiling. “When we got foxed and—”
“You seduced the Howard twins and then traded partners.” Daphne sighed. “I have heard the story, as Dalton shared the entirety of his history with me.”
“And it does not bother you?” The wicked man met her gaze and furrowed his brow, as his astonishment was evident in his tone. “You forgive him?”
“In the grand scheme, it does not signify.” Emboldened anew, she soared on a wave of unshakeable conviction, as she recalled her conversation with Lady Amanda. “As the events occurred prior to our meeting, they matter not to me, so there is nothing to forgive. And as I apprised you, I love Dalton.”
“How very old-fashioned of you, Miss Daphne.” Lord Sheldon scrutinized the shine of his boots. “I had thought to stun you into submission, to incite your anger and then use revenge as a catalyst for a pleasurable tryst.”
“It will not work.” And then she fretted for her knight. Had Lady Moreton lured him to an equally remote location? Regardless of the outcome, Daphne vowed to support her future husband. “Dalton is the only man I have any interest in touching—or having touch me.”
“And do you think such a creature exists for me?” He frowned. “Is it possible for someone who has wreaked so much havoc in this world, and destroyed untold marriages, to find love?”
“Of course, it is possible.” Unafraid, Daphne stood, walked to the center of the chamber, and claimed the chair beside his. “You need only earn the lady of your dreams with honesty and a true heart.”
“What of you?” He shifted to face her. “My fortune is greater than Randolph’s, and although I, too, am a second son, my father is an earl, so you would be Lady Sheldon, if we wed.”
“Thank you, for the gracious offer, but I do not set store in such trivial titles, sir.” She studied the flames in the fireplace. “And I have found my mate.”
“Indeed, you have, and I should return you to him, as you have made a dolt of me.” Lord Sheldon checked his timepiece and shot forth. “Bloody hell, Almira will be here, at any second.”
“Oh, no.” She leaped to her feet. “What shall I do?”
The Lucky One (Brethren Of The Coast #6) Page 17