Thomas hesitated for a moment and then took a sip of his brandy, regarding her in silence over the edge of the glass.
“Did you take it?” she prompted, staring fixedly at her brother. She didn’t have to wait long for an answer; his expression told her exactly what she wanted to know. “You did. You sold it, didn’t you?” she demanded, her tone incredulous.
“So what if I did?” he replied defiantly. “God’s teeth, Daphne,” he continued, setting the brandy glass onto the side table with a loud thump as he rose to his feet, “you know as well as I that Blackburn’s got plenty of coin. Surely he’ll supply you with more than enough jewels to satisfy your needs once the two of you are wed.”
For a moment she was simply too angry to speak, but when she finally found her voice her tone was surprisingly calm. “I do not care about jewels, Thomas. But that brooch was special to me. I loved and cherished it because it belonged to mother. Besides, she left it to me and you had no right to take it without my permission,” she continued evenly.
Though his expression remained defiant, she thought she may have detected a flicker of guilt within her brother’s eyes as she stared him down.
“Damn it all,” he finally huffed indignantly. “Blackburn may have covered my outstanding debts, but the bastard won’t advance me any additional funds until after the wedding,” he continued in a resentful tone. “What the deuce was I supposed to do?” he grumbled plaintively.
“You should have asked me, Thomas,” she said simply. “I think that I have already proven that I am willing to do whatever I must to protect this family, don’t you?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked from the room, profoundly disappointed by her brother’s thoughtless actions yet again.
If nothing else, she thought as she moved along the hallway, her brother’s latest act of selfishness merely fueled her determination to proceed with her plan to take control of at least one aspect of her life. And tonight she intended to do just that.
When their carriage came to a stop before the Duke and Duchess of Sethe’s London residence some thirty minutes later, Daphne’s emotions were rioting uncontrollably. Though she was still upset about her mother’s brooch, she had something far more pressing to focus upon at the moment, something potentially life altering.
Would she have the nerve to do as she’d planned, to take a small measure of her life into her own hands, or would her courage ultimately fail her? The questions, repeating themselves over and over within her thoughts, had been plaguing her for the past several days and now more so than ever, for the occasion was finally upon her. Inhaling a deep breath she waited for the footman to open the door and lower the step and for Thomas to exit the vehicle. Only time would tell she supposed as she gathered her skirt into one hand and then followed her brother from the coach a moment later, taking his hand and then looping her arm through his as she stepped down onto the pavement.
Casting him a quick, sidelong glance as they made their way up the walk, she was inordinately pleased to see that he appeared almost as nervous as she was, albeit for an entirely different reason of course. She could hardly fault him for it however; as it wasn’t every day that one received an invitation to dine with the Duke and Duchess of Sethe.
Ascending the steps to the front door, Daphne noted the regal-looking butler who waited to greet them with a touch of awe. From the top of his perfectly-combed silver hair to the tips of his highly-polished shoes, he imparted the notable distinction of a man who held the most elevated station within the home of one of England’s most powerful and affluent families. Even Thomas appeared somewhat daunted by the man’s imposing persona, who after ushering them into the foyer, was quick to direct a young footman to show them to the drawing room.
Following the uniformed lad up the stairs, Daphne’s eyes flitted about the Leighton’s magnificent home with a touch of disbelief, for it was almost too spectacular to be believed. From the detailed craftsmanship of the home itself to the elegant furnishings and priceless works of art displayed throughout, the exquisite décor was a clear testament to the family’s enormous wealth and stature. Though she had always thought her own family home to be quite grand, she had to admit that it paled in comparison. Noting Thomas’ expression from the corner of her eye, she could see that her brother was duly impressed as well.
Upon entering the equally impressive drawing room moments later, she and Thomas immediately drew the attention of their host and hostess, as well as the eight other guests milling about. She immediately recognized the Earl and Countess of Chesterfield, the Dowager Marchioness of Roxleigh, whom she’d met on a previous occasion, and Brendon. The other four guests, however, were unfamiliar to her.
“Lord Huxley, Lady Daphne, welcome,” the duchess greeted, her smile warm and friendly as she and her husband made their way toward them from across the room.
Good heavens, the two certainly made for a striking pair, Daphne thought to herself as the couple approached. Having met them only once before, Daphne was captivated yet again by the young duchess’ extraordinary beauty; her bold, vibrant coloring so very different from her own blonde hair and fair, peaches and cream complexion. And like his wife, the duke was extraordinarily attractive as well. In fact, he looked a great deal like Brendon, she noted. But unlike his brother, who exuded a patent air of charm and charisma, Nicholas Leighton’s demeanor seemed a bit more reserved than his younger sibling’s gregarious manner.
“Thank you for having us, Your Graces,” Thomas replied, bowing to the couple as they stopped before them, while Daphne dropped into a flawless curtsey at his side.
“Of course,” Ashleigh Leighton responded with a cheerful expression, “it is our pleasure.”
“Yes, we’re delighted to have you,” Nicholas Leighton agreed graciously.
From across the room, Brendon looked on as his brother and sister-in-law greeted the final guests to arrive, Thomas and Daphne Hewitt. Earlier that afternoon, when he’d learned that Lady Daphne and her brother had been invited to such an intimate gathering, he’d immediately sensed that something was afoot. With Ashleigh sure to have witnessed him dancing with Lady Daphne at the Chesterfield’s ball, his intuition suggested that his well-intentioned sister-in-law might be trying her hand at match-making.
Then, when she’d informed him just moments ago that he would be serving as Lady Daphne’s dinner companion, his suspicion had all but been confirmed. Unfortunately for Ashleigh, however, he wasn’t prepared to surrender his carefree lifestyle just yet. Not that he had anything against the state of matrimony, for he had only to look to his brother’s union to see the joy and happiness it had brought to his life. Even so, marriage wasn’t for him, at least not yet anyhow. Nonetheless, he had to give Ashleigh credit, for she knew him well, focusing her attention upon one of the few women he might have actually considered if he was in the market for a wife.
Fixing his regard solely upon Daphne then, his discerning gaze sweeping from the top of her blonde curls to the tips of the green satin slippers peeking out from beneath the hem of her gown, he drank in every detail of the enchanting vision she presented. Looking breathtakingly lovely, she was outfitted in a striking off the shoulder gown of ivory silk with emerald-colored rosettes affixed to the shoulders and matching green ribbons woven throughout the artfully designed bodice and along the hemline of the full skirt. It was an elegant, sophisticated style that hugged her feminine curves in all of the right places and made her appear older than her years.
As he watched Ashleigh begin to steer Daphne and her brother through the small assembly of guests, making introductions along the way, he gave himself a mental shake, mindful that despite the potent, undeniable attraction he felt toward the enticing beauty, the young lady was in fact an innocent and therefore regrettably off-limits.
“Lord Huxley, I have partnered you with Lady Willowby this evening,” the duchess said to Thomas as they stood before the countess, an attractive, middle-aged widow who was said to have inherited a sm
all fortune from her late husband. “I’ve no doubt that the two of you will get along famously.”
It appeared that the duchess’ assumption was correct as the two greeted one another, for both Thomas and Lady Willowby seemed quite pleased with the arrangement. It wasn’t altogether surprising, Daphne mused, for Thomas was a handsome fellow, having inherited their father’s wavy, chestnut-colored locks and vivid blue eyes. In addition, her brother could be quite charming when he chose to be.
Watching him from the corner of her eye, Daphne could almost see the wheels begin to turn within his head as the two conversed. Hmm, she thought. If his pursuit of Miss Flemming proved unsuccessful, Lady Willowby might well find herself the new recipient of her brother’s iniquitous attentions, despite the difference in their ages.
Moments later, as Thomas continued to chat amiably with Lady Willowby, the duchess led Daphne to where her brother-in-law stood alongside Alexander and Tiffany Warrene just a few feet away.
“And you, Lady Daphne, will be escorted by His Grace’s brother, Lord Leighton,” she continued, motioning to Brendon. “I believe the two of you are already acquainted, are you not?” the duchess asked, regarding Daphne expectantly.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she said, smiling politely to Brendon. “Lord Leighton and I were introduced at Lord and Lady Chesterfield’s ball,” she confirmed, glancing toward the aforementioned couple.
“Yes, quite right,” Brendon affirmed with an answering smile.
“Daphne, how lovely to see you again,” Tiffany said warmly.
Only a few years older than she was, Tiffany Warrene was as kind-hearted as she was beautiful, and since marrying into the Warrene family she had become a good friend as well. Looking at her now, in her form-fitting satin gown of sapphire-blue, one would never suspect that she had recently given birth to her and Alex’s first child.
“Yes, Lady Daphne, it’s lovely to see you again,” Alex seconded. “My mother and sisters send their felicitations, as well,” he added with a friendly smile. “They would have been here themselves but for a prior engagement.”
“Please let them know that I shall call upon them soon.” Normally she would have welcomed their company, but not tonight, for their presence would likely have made the execution of her plan all the more difficult.
“I will indeed.”
Their conversation was interrupted then by a discreet cough from one of the Leighton’s footmen as he came to stand just inside the parlor doors.
“Shall we move into the dining room,” the duchess suggested; her voice carrying as she glanced about the room. “I believe dinner is ready to be served.”
“Shall we?” Brendon asked, extending his elbow to Daphne.
With an agreeable nod, she looped her arm through his.
Once they had all been seated at the Leighton’s magnificently set dining table, Daphne turned to Brendon as they waited for the initial course to be served. Despite her nervousness, she was doing her best to appear outwardly confident. “So, my lord, have you had further occasion to make use of the park since I saw you last?” Though she’d been hoping to see him riding there again, she hadn’t spotted him within the boundaries of the park since their initial encounter.
“Regrettably I have not,” Brendon replied with a rueful expression. “I was called away unexpectedly to attend to a business matter in Ipswich earlier this week and I have only returned to town this very afternoon,” he expounded. “Perhaps tomorrow if the weather holds I shall have the opportunity to take Samson out, for I’m certain that he is longing for a good run.” Regarding her expectantly he then asked, “Will I see you there?”
“I would imagine so, if the weather holds,” she responded. In all honesty, however, her presence in the park the following morning would likely depend not upon the weather, but upon the outcome of the proposal she intended to present him with later in the evening, given that she was somehow presented with an opportunity to speak with him alone.
“Well then, I shall certainly hope for clear skies upon the morrow,” Brendon replied with a rakish grin.
“As will I,” she said with an answering smile.
They were distracted then as the first course was brought to the table and they were each served a steaming bowl of Vermicelli soup.
“It smells delicious,” Daphne said as a mouthwatering aroma filled the air around her.
“Trust me, it tastes even better than it smells,” Brendon replied with an easy assurance. “My brother’s chef is one of the finest in the country. In fact, Nicholas and Ashleigh have been called upon more than once to thwart the efforts of another Society host or hostess daring enough to try to lure the man away to his or her own kitchen,” he continued with an amused expression.
“Surely no one would do such a thing,” Daphne proclaimed, eyeing him dubiously.
Brendon merely grinned as he lifted a spoonful of the aromatic soup to his lips.
Daphne followed suit, taking a spoonful from her own bowl and placing it delicately against her lips. Her taste buds exploded in the very next instant. Brendon hadn’t exaggerated, the soup was absolutely scrumptious.
“Do you believe me now?” Brendon asked with a light chuckle.
Daphne grinned. “If this is any indication of the man’s culinary abilities, then I most certainly do.”
Brendon nodded. “Just wait until the next course.”
Even as he said the words, Daphne was already looking forward to it.
By the time the second course arrived, a turbot with lobster and Dutch sauces and a portion of red mullet, the conversation was flowing easily between them and their surrounding dinner companions. For a time, she even managed to set aside the terrible anxiety that had been plaguing her since her and Thomas’ arrival.
In fact, it wasn’t until dessert had been served and eaten, a Neapolitan cake with buttercream frosting and a tantalizing selection of crepes, éclairs and meringue, and the ladies had all risen from the table to accompany the duchess to the drawing room for coffee and tea that her nervousness began to return in full measure. For she knew that as soon as the gentlemen finished their port and joined them once again, she was going to have to employ some sort of strategy that would, if all went according to plan, enable her to speak with Brendon alone.
As it happened, it was Ashleigh Leighton who unwittingly provided Daphne with just the opportunity she needed approximately thirty minutes later.
“Brendon,” the duchess called, motioning him over to where they were seated as the gentlemen made their way into the parlor. “I have just discovered that like you and I, Lady Daphne has a particular appreciation for renaissance art,” she said as he approached.
“Indeed?”
“Quite so,” the duchess continued. “As such, I was thinking that she might enjoy a tour of the art gallery.” She turned back to Daphne with an engaging smile. “Nicholas and Brendon’s grandfather was an avid collector of early Italian renaissance paintings and sculptures, and while most of his collection is exhibited at our country home, there are several pieces on display here as well.”
“Tis true, it’s quite a collection,” Brendon agreed. “If you would care to view the works we have here, Lady Daphne, I would be delighted to escort you.”
“I would love to,” Daphne replied, rising eagerly from her seat on the silk brocade-covered settee, silently praying that none of the other guests would ask to join them.
Thankfully no one did.
Offering Daphne his elbow, Brendon had little doubt that Ashleigh’s suggestion had been just another part of her cleverly orchestrated plan to further his acquaintance with Lady Daphne, but as the lovely lady slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, he couldn’t honestly say that he minded.
“So, it appears that you and I share yet another interest,” Brendon commented as he led Daphne in the direction of the second floor art gallery.
“Indeed, we do seem to have a great deal in common,” she replied with an agreeable smile, though in
actuality her interest in renaissance art was at present the furthest thing from her mind.
“Here we are,” he said moments later as he lead her into a long, narrow gas-lit corridor lined with paintings and intermingled with over a dozen pedestals supporting a variety of sculptures in varying shapes and sizes.
“Oh my,” Daphne gasped, awed by the incredible, museum-like display that surely only the wealthiest of families could afford to possess. Seeing it, she could only imagine what amazing treasures their country home held.
“It is a bit overwhelming, isn’t it,” Brendon acknowledged with a small, self-conscious laugh.
“It’s incredible,” Daphne uttered as she gazed upon an enormous oil painting depicting the Madonna and Child.
“Have you a favorite artist?” Brendon inquired as they moved slowly along the corridor.
“Michelangelo,” she replied without hesitation. Her mother had been a great admirer of art and of Michelangelo especially, a fascination Daphne had shared.
“Ah, the divine one. He’s a favorite of mine as well.”
“Did your grandfather acquire any of his works?” she asked.
“Multiple pieces,” Brendon replied. “A small painting of the Sibyls, an angel sculpted of marble and several pencil drawings. All of which presently reside at Sethe Manor, however.”
Daphne could only shake her head in amazement. To house not one, but several of Michelangelo’s works in a private collection was simply astounding.
As they continued their walk Daphne was so completely captivated by the stunning artwork before her, some of which from celebrated artists like Veronese, Botticelli and Raphael, that she very nearly forgot the reason she’d wanted to speak with Brendon privately. But even as she admired the dazzling display of art, in the back of her mind was the realization that this would undoubtedly be her only chance to get him alone before the night was through.
When Only a Rake Will Do Page 6