How the Lady Was Won

by Shana Galen

  Her mother had worried she would tire herself and sent Daphne to bed early. Daphne didn’t mind at all. It had been ages since she had gone to bed before three in the morning, and when she’d woken this morning, she’d felt refreshed and in perfect spirits.

  That was until the other Suns called on her. While Daphne could tell other callers she was not at home, she could hardly refuse her best friends. If she had, who knew what rumors they would circulate? The papers would claim she was on her death bed.

  “I do wish you could have been there,” Lady Pavenley said. She was going on about Lord and Lady Richelieu’s rout. Daphne had been looking forward to the event, but she found she hadn’t missed it at all. “Everyone asked about you.”

  “Quite tedious,” Lady Isabella said, nibbling on a biscuit. “We told everyone you would be at Lord Forsythe’s ball tonight.”

  Daphne did enjoy dancing, but she had promised to stay home until tomorrow. “I don’t think so,” Daphne said, dabbing her nose again. “I’m still not feeling well, and I have to supervise the packing.”

  “Oh, yes!” Lady Pavenley set her teacup down with a clink. “You and Mr. FitzRoy have finally secured your own residence. Where is he, by the way?”

  Daphne had no idea, but she was not about to admit that or explain that Colin hadn’t been in her father’s house above a handful of times. “At his club, I suppose.” She waved a hand.

  “But you cannot miss the ball,” Lady Isabella said, her brown eyes wide. “It’s the event of the Season.”

  “Oh, bosh. It’s far too early in the Season for such hyperbole. And anyway, I will only sneeze on all my dance partners. I will simply have to stay home one more evening. Perhaps I will feel up to the theater later this week.”

  “Lord Battersea was looking for you last night,” Lady Pavenley said, lifting her teacup again and peering over the rim at Daphne.

  Of course, he was. He was undoubtedly looking for an opportunity to get a taste of what he thought she owed him. Or perhaps he planned to snatch her away from the ball so she was never seen again.

  Panic swelled within her, but she couldn’t allow her guests to see it. She took a breath.

  “Was he?” Daphne made her voice as flat as possible. She did not know how the other Suns knew something had occurred between Daphne and Battersea, but they did. They wouldn’t be prodding her so if they did not. They just didn’t know what. And they would never know. She had to remember Colin had said he would help her. Once she and Colin put their plan in motion, this ordeal would be at an end. Perhaps her husband already had incriminating evidence against the earl.

  “We told him you were home, and he said he would call on you when you were better.”

  “My father would not admit him. He dislikes Battersea.”

  “The earl is always so interested in you, Lady Daphne,” Lady Pavenley said. Then she lifted her reticule and opened it, removing a small envelope from inside. There was a red seal on it.

  Daphne narrowed her eyes. “What is this?”

  “Lord Battersea asked me to give it to you.” Lady Pavenley held it out to Daphne. Daphne stared at the envelope as though it were a viper. She did not want it and certainly did not want to know what Battersea had written to her. Finally, Lady Pavenley waved the envelope impatiently, and Daphne was forced to take it. She looked at the seal, which appeared unbroken, but that did not mean Lady Pavenley hadn’t gone to some trouble to remove it so she could read the contents and then reseal it. Perhaps Battersea had anticipated this since the seal was rather wide and thin. Daphne did not think it had been tampered with.

  “Why don’t you open it?” Lady Pavenley asked.

  Daphne glanced at her. Her violet eyes were fixed on the envelope. She looked like a kitten eyeing a bowl of cream.

  “Later,” Daphne said, slipping it into her bosom, where it burned like a hot coal.

  Lady Isabella and Lady Pavenley exchanged looks. They had obviously discussed what the contents of the note might be and hoped to have their suppositions confirmed or denied this afternoon. But Daphne felt a real headache coming on and pretended to cough into her handkerchief. She coughed for about another ten minutes, each time one of her friends asked a question, and finally the ladies departed. As soon as she was certain they were gone, Daphne jumped up, raced to her bed, closed the curtains about it, and opened the missive.

  My Dear Daphne,

  Daphne recoiled. She had not given him permission to use her given name.

  I was so distraught to hear of your illness. I do hope you will be well enough to attend a small gathering at my country house.

  Daphne wondered if this was the sort of note the baroness had received before he’d killed her.

  As we have yet to settle our debt, perhaps we can do so at the event. I will collect you very soon.

  Daphne read that line again. Very soon. What did that mean?

  Yours affectionately,

  B

  Daphne read the letter again then stuffed it under a pillow and leapt out of her bed. “Mama!” she called. “Mama!”

  “What is it?” her mother asked, coming up the stairs. “Are you feeling worse?”

  “What?” She’d forgotten she was supposed to be ill. “Oh, yes. I feel awful. You will stay home with me again tonight, won’t you?”

  “Brown!” When the maid didn’t appear, the duchess tugged at the bell pull. “I will have Brown put you right to bed. You shouldn’t be up. Your color is quite high. Your friends have worn you out.”

  “I’ll go to bed.” Daphne pushed back the draperies and climbed in. “But you’ll stay home with me again, as you did last night?”

  “I can’t, darling. You know Lady Forsythe is the Chairwoman of the Hyde Park Annual Flowershow and Botanical Festival. If I don’t attend, she’ll assign me to the flowering shrubs this year, and you know I want to present the roses.”

  Daphne stared at her mother. How could she say she feared for her life? If she did, she’d have to reveal the whole affair with Battersea.

  “Brown will stay with you, darling. And I won’t be long at the ball.” She tucked the covers around Daphne, then surprised her daughter by leaning down to kiss her forehead. “After tonight you will have to ask your husband to stay with you.” She gave Daphne a fond look. “My last little chick leaving the nest.”

  Daphne gave her a weak smile then lay still and listened in the enclosed bed as her mother gave Brown instructions. As Daphne saw it, she had two choices. She could stay home and hope Battersea did not come for her. Or she could go after him herself. Her friends’ visit had already shown her that Battersea was looking for her. If he followed the same system as he had the night before, then he would stop in at the Forsythe ball. When he saw she was not there but her parents were, he would come looking for her here. Her father had a large, competent staff, but they would not be expected to guard the perimeter of the house in case an earl decided to abduct Daphne. Many would have the evening off, and the others would be belowstairs until the duke and duchess were expected to return. Only Brown would be with Daphne, and she would be little use against Battersea.

  Daphne sat and peered through the bed curtains into her bed chamber. It was empty, the window curtains drawn and the lamp turned low. She climbed quietly out of bed, tiptoed to her desk, and eased the drawer open. She withdrew a sheet of vellum and scratched off a note to Colin. He had told her to remain home, but that had been before she’d received the note from Battersea. Besides, she had created this problem. She could very well help solve it.

  She added one more line to her note, enclosed Battersea’s with it, sealed it, and tugged the bell pull. Brown appeared in less than a minute. “I thought you were sleeping, my lady.

  “I’m feeling better.”

  “But it’s only been a few minutes.”

  “Brown, take this letter and have a footman deliver it to Mr. FitzRoy.”

  Her maid looked at the letter. “Where shall I say to find him?”

 
; “Have the footman begin at the viscount’s residence. If my husband isn’t there, they will know where to find him.”

  “Very good, my lady.”

  Daphne climbed back into bed, knowing she would have to pretend to rest for a few hours and feeling the task would be impossible.

  “My lady, should the servant wait for a reply?”

  Daphne considered. If she waited for a reply then it would appear the matter was up for debate. “No reply necessary,” she said, lying back and closing her eyes.

  She did fall into a light sleep, which she thought might serve her well if she were to be up and out most of the night. When she woke, she called for Brown who told her the footman had discovered FitzRoy was at his club, the Draven Club, and had left the letter with the Master of the House.

  Now Daphne did wish she had asked for a reply as she didn’t know if Colin had actually received the letter and she couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of her plan. She supposed she would know in a few hours. A little while later her mother came in to check on her. She was dressed in red and smelled of lilacs. She glittered in rubies and diamonds and was warm when she kissed Daphne’s cheek. “I’m having dinner with friends before the ball. I will check on you when I return.”

  Daphne pretended to flutter her eyes sleepily and then closed them and feigned falling back asleep. A quarter hour later the house was quiet and the last echoes of the carriage’s wheels clattering on the street had died away. The hay used to muffle the noise of passing carriages needed to be replaced, but for the moment Daphne was glad for the noise.

  “Brown,” she called as she rose from bed and went to her clothes press. “I need something dark to wear.”

  Brown came in from the sitting room, her arms full of ribbons. She was obviously packing for the move tomorrow. “Something dark to sleep in, my lady?”

  “I’m not sleeping, Brown. You and I are going out.”

  “But, my lady! You are ill.”

  “I’m perfectly fine, but I don’t want to go alone.”

  “I wouldn’t allow it, my lady.”

  “Then find me something dark. I don’t want to be seen.”

  Brown set the ribbons on Daphne’s dressing table. “There’s the cloak you wore the other evening.”

  Daphne shook her head. “I returned it to my sister. A gown will have to do.”

  The maid opened the clothes press and stared at the profusion of pink. “I don’t think you have anything in dark colors, my lady.”

  “Nonsense!” Daphne went through her gowns herself. Brown was right. She sighed then whirled on the maid. “I know! What about the gowns I wore when Great-Aunt Clotilda died? I had to wear black for a year, it seemed.”

  Brown frowned. “It was no more than a month, my lady, and that was several years ago.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Perhaps packed in a trunk in one of the storage rooms.”

  Daphne shooed at her. “Go find them. I’ll put my hair up while you do.”

  “You will put your hair up, my lady?”

  Daphne put her hands on her hips. “I can dress my own hair, Brown.”

  Brown looked dubious as she left to look for the mourning gowns. In the meantime, Daphne managed to fasten her hair in a tail down her back. She intended to stuff it into one of her father’s hunting caps at any rate. It didn’t have to look fancy.

  She paced the room, checking the clock on the mantel impatiently. Parliament would adjourn soon, and then she did not know how much time she had until Battersea came looking for her. She wanted to be well away before then.

  Finally, Brown returned, carrying a dove gray cloak and a black silk dress with jet beading on the bodice. Daphne remembered wearing it to the theater and hating it as her mother hadn’t allowed her to order Madame Renauld to add any bows to it. Hopefully the beading would not catch too much light. As it had been an evening dress, the bodice was low enough to show off any black enamel jewelry. Daphne didn’t bother with adornments. She donned the dress and threw the cloak over the dress and her hair. Then she gave Brown a once-over. The maid was already dressed in dark blue. Daphne told her to leave her apron on the bed and put on a shawl. On the way out the door, Daphne took one of her father’s hunting caps.

  It was a short walk to Oxford Square, where her new home stood. Brown stayed close to her, and Daphne was glad as any little sound and every man they passed made her heart pound in fear. Finally, they arrived at the town house.

  “My lady, it’s dark,” Brown said.

  Daphne had seen that as well. She’d expected Colin to be there already and to have lit at least a candle for her. “Perhaps he hasn’t arrived yet. It’s not a problem. Mama gave me a key.”

  She pulled it from her reticule, which she had kept tucked under the cloak as it was pink, and as Brown held the lantern for her, she inserted it into the lock and heard the click as she opened the door.

  “I’ll go first, my lady,” Brown said. Daphne thought she should argue or at least pretend to be brave, but she couldn’t seem to make her mouth object when Brown pushed the door open and entered. Daphne followed Brown into the shadowy vestibule. There was no sound other than the swish of the ladies’ skirts. Daphne turned in a circle, then screamed as a man stepped out of the shadows.

  Brown turned and shrieked as well even as the masked man held up two hands in a universal gesture promising no harm.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” Daphne demanded, pushing Brown behind her. “Are you a highwayman? We don’t have any valuables.”

  “I’m not a highwayman,” the man said. It almost sounded as though he were laughing. Footsteps sounded on the marble and then Colin ran into the foyer, holding an unlit lamp and a jug.

  “What the devil?”

  “It’s a highwayman, Colin,” Daphne explained. “I told him we don’t have any blunt. Just give him what you have, and he won’t hurt anyone.” She looked at the highwayman. “Isn’t that right?”

  “That is right. Give me your blunt, Colin.”

  “Stubble it, Jasper.”

  Daphne looked from one man to the other. “You know the highwayman?”

  Colin set the lamp on the entryway table and produced a tinder box. “He’s not a highwayman. We’re not even on the highway.”

  “If he’s not a highwayman, why does he wear a mask?”

  “I was injured in the war, my lady. I wear it so you won’t scream, though it didn’t seem to help much this evening.”

  The lamp flared to life, and Colin held it up, illuminating the room. “Lady Daphne, may I present Lord Jasper. Lord Jasper, my wife.”

  Twelve

  Jasper gave an exaggerated bow, and Daphne gave a more perfunctory one, obviously not quite sure she believed the ruffian in her soon-to-be foyer was actually a gentleman. He certainly looked more highwayman than marquess’s son, but then Colin was dressed as a sailor, so who was he to judge? For her part, Daphne wore a gray cloak he’d not seen before. He wondered what she wore underneath.

  And then he caught a glimpse of her maid, her face pale and her eyes large, and pulled a chair away from the wall and set it behind the woman. “You had better sit down, miss.”

  The maid sank into the chair without a word.

  “Why are you dressed like that?” Daphne asked a moment later, when she’d had time to notice his clothing. “And you might have warned me your friend would be here.”

  “I’ll just take a look in the parlor,” Jasper said, sliding through the door and out of sight.

  “I went to the butler’s pantry to find lamp oil. I didn’t know you’d come as I’d just stepped away.” He took her arm and shuttled her into the dining room. “And it’s not as though you gave me any time to warn you of anything. You informed me you’d come here and demanded I join you.”

  “I included Battersea’s letter. What else was I supposed to do?”

  He looked down at her and had to stop himself from throttling her. “I can think of a hundred better o
ptions than for you to go out into London alone at night to come to an empty house. What if Battersea had been waiting for you?”

  Daphne swallowed, her expression filled with fear. “I knew that was a possibility, but I am supposed to attend the Forsythe ball, and I think he will look for me there. Besides, I am not alone. I have Brown with me.”

  “The maid who is sitting in that chair looking as though she might faint at any moment?”

  “And the house isn’t empty. You were here waiting for me.”

  He gave her a mocking bow. “As you can see, my lady, I am your servant, as always.”

  She snorted.

  “I can see why you would be concerned after that letter from Battersea.” It had taken Neil Wraxall, Stratford Fortescue, and Draven himself to persuade Colin not to go and kill the earl on the spot when he’d received her note at the Draven Club. Colin couldn’t remember ever reacting the way he had. He’d been so furious that he would have murdered Battersea with his bare hands if he’d had the opportunity. Colin hadn’t even realized he had such strong emotions.

  He’d managed to contain them again before finding Jasper and changing their plans to first meet Daphne here. Of course, the part he hadn’t worked out was what to do with her while he and Jasper searched Battersea’s shipping offices.

  “My parents had to attend the Forsythe ball tonight. I didn’t want to be home when Battersea realizes I’m not at the ball. I’m...” He could see the admissions was difficult, but she closed her eyes and said it. “I’m afraid he will come to the town house and try to abduct me. Colin, I’m truly scared now.”

  Colin took her in his arms and held her for a long moment. She was shaking, and he rubbed her back until she stilled. The truth was, he admired her for taking action rather than being passive and waiting for Battersea to come for her. After he’d seen that note, he didn’t like the idea of her alone at home any more than he liked her here. Some of the staff would be home, of course, but no one would be paying attention to Lady Daphne or her maid.

  If he were Battersea, he would have taken the opportunity.