by Regina Scott
Ah, there was Wynn, beside Lord Brentfield, with her sister hovering nearby. Daphne went to latch onto his arm, but she must have grabbed him a little too quickly, for he raised his dark brows above the rims of his spectacles.
“I must talk to you,” she said, heart starting to beat faster. “Would you walk with me?”
“Anywhere,” he promised. He excused himself from their host, who shot Daphne an encouraging smile. Ariadne stepped into Wynn’s place with a nod of thanks to her sister and began her questioning of the earl.
Daphne felt a little guilty. She hadn’t taken Wynn aside to help the investigation. She had a more personal matter to attend to. She led Wynn down into the gardens. She was certain her mother was watching them, but the yew hedge quickly shut off their view of the others. Lavender scented the air, and petunias crowded near her feet, eager faces raised toward the sun. She heard a gentleman’s voice murmur somewhere up ahead and a lady’s delighted giggle. Daphne sighed.
“What is it?” Wynn asked, tilting his head as if to see into her eyes.
She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear as the breeze threatened to brush it past her cheek. “I can see now that I asked you to join me at Brentfield for all the wrong reasons. I didn’t want to feel like I was the only one lacking a beau.”
“And then Brooks Sheridan came along,” he said.
He knew her so well. Daphne kicked a pebble out of their path. “He was a complication. I’m only sorry it took me so long to see the solution.”
He stopped, forcing her to stop as well. “Daphne, what are you saying? Have you accepted Sheridan’s suit? Do you intend to marry him?”
She gazed up into his eyes a moment, seeing bewilderment in the sea of green. She was known for blurting out her inmost thoughts, yet for once she found herself tongue-tied. How did one tell a gentleman one might be in love? How did one face the potential rejection? For the first time in her life, fear clogged her mind.
In desperation, she found herself looking anywhere but at his concerned face—the daisy with the ruby center, the gray stone statue of a fat cupid, Emily on her knees in the gravel.
Emily on her knees?
Daphne blinked, focusing on the scene just ahead. At the end of the path, Emily and Sir James had found a grotto surrounded by ferns. The Bow Street Runner stood by a dark pond, where lilies bloomed pink. He gazed down at her friend, face tender.
“James Cropper,” Emily said, voice carrying down the path. “I have waited and hoped, yet you remain silent, and I can only surmise it is because you doubt my devotion. So I declare yet again that I love you with all my being. I want to spend the rest of my days, however long or short, with you. Won’t you marry me?”
Daphne sucked in a breath, fingers gripping Wynn’s arm. She knew he was staring just as fixedly. As they watched, the Runner’s hand reached out to caress Emily’s cheek.
“No,” he said. “To my everlasting regret. You deserve better.” He pulled back his hand, turned, and strode out of the garden. Emily sagged to the ground.
Daphne pushed free of Wynn. “Find Hannah, Priscilla, and Ariadne and send them to me.”
He nodded, backing away. “At once. You will want to comfort your friend.”
“No,” Daphne said. “I want to horsewhip James Cropper. Now, hurry.”
*
A few moments later, having left a white-faced Emily to Hannah’s tender care, Daphne evaded her mother and led Priscilla and Ariadne in search of the Runner.
“When exactly did he decide he would never be good enough?” Priscilla demanded, golden head high and steps so determined her frilly muslin gown whipped about her ankles. “We saw him knighted, for pity’s sake. What more does he want, an earldom?”
“It is noble, in a way,” Ariadne put in, one hand to her flowered bonnet as she scurried to keep up. “Being willing to sacrifice his feelings for the betterment of his lady love.”
“If you ask me,” Daphne said, gathering up her skirts so she could move even faster, “it’s selfish. Emily was willing to forego position and fortune for him. The least he could do is let go of his pride.”
“Said the woman who refuses to acknowledge the man who loves her,” Ariadne muttered.
Daphne jerked to a stop to stare at her sister. “What did you say?”
“Stop your posturing,” Priscilla said, stopping as well. “It’s clear as day you love Wynn Fairfax and he loves you. We’re all just waiting for the two of you to figure it out.”
Daphne’s face flamed. “Well, you won’t have to wait much longer. I was about to tell him how I felt when we came upon Emily and her Jamie.”
“Who is about to leave!” Ariadne cried, pointing toward the stables.
Sir James was standing by one of the grooms, while another led out a horse. One look told Daphne the mare was equipped for a journey. “He’s running away!”
“Oh, no, he isn’t,” Priscilla declared, hurrying forward.
Daphne beat her and Ariadne to the Runner’s side.
“Put that horse back in Lord Brentfield’s stable,” Daphne ordered the groom. “Sir James is going nowhere.”
“Beg pardon, ladies,” he said, gray gaze stormy, “but I think it for the best.”
“You are not thinking at all that I can see,” Priscilla said, hands on her hips. “It has been my goal to win a suitable place among the aristocracy for most of my life. Emily hands it to you, and you turn tail?”
He flushed. “This isn’t about moving up in Society.”
“Good,” Ariadne said, “because I would not have written you as a fortune hunter.”
“I don’t want her father’s money or position,” he insisted, glancing among them. “I didn’t ask to be knighted. I’m a Bow Street Runner. And I’m proud of that fact. But Emily deserves more.”
“So you consider yourself beneath her?” Priscilla challenged. “And here I thought you were clever.”
He reached for the reins, and Daphne snatched them from his grip. “No, you don’t! You go make up to Emily this minute.”
“Why?” He glared at them all, and the groom had the good sense to run for the stables. “You heard her. She hopes to marry me. We all know that cannot happen.”
“Because you are a spineless weasel?” Priscilla asked sweetly, batting her lashes for good measure. “Unworthy to grovel before her magnificence?”
As his face darkened, Ariadne tried another tact. “Simply because you once saw Romeo and Juliet doesn’t mean your ending must be tragic.”
He lunged for the reins, and Daphne slipped from his grip.
“Let me go,” he begged.
“Only if you answer a question to my satisfaction,” Daphne told him. “Do you love her?”
He stared at her a moment, then his hands fell to his sides. “With my last dying breath.”
Daphne beamed at him.
“Nicely said,” Ariadne put in. “There may be hope for you yet.”
“You’re mad, the lot of you,” he said with a shake of his head that was equal parts admiration and frustration. “Your mothers must have warned you about situations like this.”
“Falling in love with a handsome rogue?” Ariadne asked. “It’s in every novel of any worth.”
“But this isn’t a story to sigh over,” he protested. “If she marries me, she forfeits her place in Society.”
“Which she disdains above all things,” Priscilla reminded him.
“She is ever only happy painting,” Ariadne agreed.
“And solving mysteries,” Daphne added.
“Both of which she can do as your wife,” Priscilla pointed out.
“But she’ll lose all her friends,” he insisted.
Daphne drew herself up and could see Priscilla and Ariadne doing the same.
“I certainly hope, sir,” Daphne told him, “that we are made of stronger stuff than that.”
He glanced from one to the other. “You truly believe we might make a match of it.”
“W
ith all our hearts,” Ariadne promised him.
“We will stand by you and Emily,” Priscilla agreed.
“We’ll even dance at your wedding breakfast,” Daphne said.
He shook his head. “You forget one thing: her father will never countenance it.”
“Leave that to me.”
They all turned to find Lady Minerva approaching. Emily’s aunt moved with firm steps, her black skirts swirling about her. Daphne had never seen so much color in her thin cheeks.
“If there is one thing I will not abide,” she said, coming abreast of them, “it’s someone hurting my family. My niece has never been so distraught, sir, even when she thought she might have to give up painting. She loves you deeply. Do you know how rare that is?”
He raised his head. “I do. But I also know that you have done everything in your power to separate us. Why would you help us now?”
“Because I love Emily too. She and I are much alike.” She cackled as he startled. “That’s right, boy. Look closely. This is what you’ll be waking up beside one day.”
He offered her a bow. “Then I will count myself fortunate indeed, madam.”
To Daphne’s surprise, Lady Minerva blushed. “Enough, sir. I expect truth from an officer of the court. Now, as I said, you leave Emerson to me. I didn’t become the dowager spinster in the family without knowing where a few bones are buried. He will accept your marriage. But don’t expect a dowry.”
“I need no monetary incentive to marry Emily,” he assured her. “My pay and rewards are enough for me to support a wife.” His confident smile faded. “If you truly think she can be happy with me.”
Ariadne lay a hand on his arm. “The question is whether she can ever be happy without you.”
“Only one way to know for sure,” Daphne told him. “Go and ask her.”
He touched two fingers to his forehead under his thatch of russet hair. “At your command, Miss Courdebas.” He glanced around again. “And thank you all. You’ve given me reason to hope.”
Daphne gathered up the reins as he strode for the house, Lady Minerva at his heels. “Well done, ladies. Crisis averted.”
“Barely,” Priscilla said, drawing in a breath. “I hope Emily knows what she’s doing. He’s rather stubborn.”
“And loyal and willing to give all to see her happy,” Ariadne said dreamily. “My sort of hero.”
Priscilla sighed. “Mine too.”
They both looked pointedly at Daphne.
“Don’t ask me to agree,” Daphne said, turning to lead the horse back toward the stable. “I just hope when I confess my love to Wynn, he’ll have the good sense to ask me to marry him straight away.”
Chapter Seventeen
When the ladies stormed off the battlefield to follow Sir James, Lord Brentfield motioned to Wynn to join him. Sheridan, Sinclair, and Kent were already at their host’s side.
“Quickly,” his lordship said. “Follow me. I’ve a task for you, and I don’t want to concern the ladies.”
By the looks on their faces, Wynn thought he wasn’t the only one intrigued, or at least a little relieved not to have to deal with the trouble in the garden. They followed his lordship into the house and around toward the kitchen.
“There’s one other passage in the manor,” he explained. “It goes underground. When I originally followed it, I thought it led to a single room. Since then, I’ve learned it underpins both wings. I haven’t been along it in months, but Lady Emily’s investigation has made me wonder. We found nothing in the passages above us. Could someone be coming in from beneath the place?”
He nodded to the footman who was standing along a section of wall near the servant’s stair. The fellow turned and pushed open a panel, then set about lighting the lanterns that had been stored inside. A moment later, Wynn and the others were all filing into the space.
Unlike the passages above the house, this one was made for easy travel. For one thing, it was wide enough to walk two abreast. It was also well braced and supported. The lantern light glinted off sturdy stone. Wynn ran a hand along one wall, peering closer. Was that limestone? Could the rock he’d found have come from this very tunnel?
“Keep a sharp look out,” Lord Brentfield warned. “Search for tracks, gaps in the stone that might signify an opening, a bend in the floor that might indicate a hidden tunnel below.”
They spread out, examining the walls, the floor, even the ceiling. Wynn found Sheridan beside him.
“I wanted to apologize if anything I’ve done or said has offended you,” he murmured, running a gloved hand over the silvery rocks. “You are one of Daphne’s closest friends, and I would not have us enemies.”
Wynn tried not to bristle at the use of the familiar first name. For all he knew, Daphne had given Sheridan permission to use it. If only she had been able to tell Wynn the truth before she’d had to help her friend.
“No offense taken,” he said, raising his brass lantern higher to scan the ceiling. Dark streaks told of smoke that had once brushed the stone, perhaps from a torch.
“Good,” Sheridan said, glancing his way with a smile. “I want nothing to mar our marriage.”
Wynn felt as if his leg had given. He must have listed to one side, for Sheridan reached out as if to steady him.
Wynn could only stare at him. “Daphne has agreed to marry you?”
Sheridan released him, and Wynn found his balance with difficulty.
“I am the most fortunate of mortals,” the Corinthian said with a smile. “There are plans in motion, mind you, and I may have to leave soon to see them accomplished. I just need to beg pardon from our host.”
Wynn’s hand cramped on the lantern. This must be what Daphne had been trying to tell him. His hesitation truly had cost him his chance to wed the best, the finest girl in England.
“I wish you every happiness,” he managed, though he felt as if the dust of the tunnel had risen to clog his mouth.
Sheridan clapped him on the shoulder, nearly oversetting him again. “Thank you. But don’t tell Daphne I confessed. It was to be our secret until a formal announcement can be made.”
Wynn nodded. “I understand.”
“Good.” He glanced around. “Well, nothing in this section. Think I’ll try a little farther along. Best of luck to you.”
Wynn nodded again, misery wrapping around him like the darkness. Why stay another moment? There was nothing for him here. He could return to London, take up his old life.
Which had never looked more bleak.
For the last six weeks, he’d done nothing but strive to be a man Daphne Courdebas could admire. Lacking that goal, he was no longer sure who he was. Perhaps it was time to find out.
A shout up ahead woke him from his revelry, and he hobbled forward to find Lord Brentfield, Sinclair, Sheridan, and Kent gathered at what appeared to be the end of the passage. All four lanterns flickered in the darkness, and Wynn could feel the air rushing past his face.
Sinclair ran his fingers up and down the rock. “There’s a crack all along here. It’s an opening—I’m certain of it.”
“Lend a hand,” Lord Brentfield ordered, and they all pulled at the rock.
Nothing moved.
“Perhaps there’s a lever or spring of some kind,” Sinclair suggested, stepping back.
Wynn helped them in further examining the area. But even with all the lantern light and the exploration of many hands, they could find no evidence of a mechanism.
“Could it open only from the other side?” Kent mused, eying the panel.
“That could leave the person inside trapped,” Sinclair argued. “No, it must be stuck. Come on, Sheridan. Let’s put our backs into it.”
Wynn stepped aside, but Sheridan did not come forward. Turning, he saw no one in the passageway leading back.
Kent must have looked as well, for he frowned. “He’s gone.”
“He mentioned something about leaving shortly,” Wynn offered. “I believe he was going to inform you, Lord Br
entfield.”
His lordship shook his head. “He never spoke to me. Perhaps he told Hannah. In any event, we’re at an impasse at the moment. The ladies will surely be looking for us. I’ll have the staff locate pry bars, and we can try again later. In the meantime, I’ll have someone keep watch on the passage. Now, let’s return to our ladies. With any luck, they’ll have settled this business with Sir James, and we can enjoy a good supper.”
He started forward, and the others fell into step. Wynn moved more slowly. At the moment, neither Lord Brentfield’s charming picnic nor the house party held any interest, not when he had lost Daphne. She had admitted to him she’d invited him for all the wrong reasons. Time to be the bigger man and step aside.
He hurried to catch up with his host. Sheridan wasn’t the only one who needed to beg leave, it seemed.
*
Once again, Daphne returned to the lawn, wanting only to locate Wynn. If Emily could find the courage to face her love, surely Daphne could do the same. She was the adventurer, the Amazon. All her life she’d struggled to find the balance between acting on her impulses and living up to Society’s expectations. At times she’d felt she’d compromised her nature to fit in. Seeing her friends move forward with their lives had rattled her enough to make her try once again to be something she wasn’t.
But she could not regret asking Wynn to join her at the house party, for it was here that she’d realized where she truly longed to be.
With him.
Unfortunately, she’d promised Brooks she’d meet him at the hermit’s hut, which she could see peeking out of the trees at the bottom of the garden. She didn’t like breaking a promise, even to a gentleman for whom she now had little liking. She wasn’t keen on taking her mother along, either. Her mother liked Brooks, probably hoped for a match between him and Daphne. Daphne wasn’t about to confess what had happened behind the house that afternoon. For all she knew, her mother would insist on a marriage to save Daphne’s reputation.
She shuddered just thinking about it.