Daphne cleared her throat, eager to return to her aunt’s side. “Have you seen my aunt, my lord? I have been unable to find her, and I wish to rejoin her company. I fear the heat of the day has tired me.”
The earl set down his flute of champagne and dabbed a monogrammed handkerchief to his lips. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen your aunt since last we spoke. Though if you are feeling ill, I can take you to a more secluded spot in the shade.”
Daphne shook her head. The last thing she needed was to be alone with the earl. Not that she didn’t feel, at least in conversation, that she already was. Outside of the required pleasantries exchanged with the duchess’s guests, Daphne had yet to converse with anyone beyond Lord Westbrook and the duke.
More than one curious glance was cast her way, but so too were bald stares and raised noses. Indeed, she was rather beginning to feel like a leper. Not that she minded. It was nothing less than she had expected from people who would likely dismiss her brother’s death as the tragic cost of war and hold her father’s work in such low regard. In fact, she was grateful for their rudeness. She’d hate to have to make concessions toward anyone English. Especially the duke.
“Have you seen Lady Henrietta, my lord? Or perhaps her sister, Lady Albina? I am most certain they could direct me to my aunt.”
“But Miss Farrington, I would be remiss if I did not first attend to your needs. A cool spot in the shade with some punch will be just the thing. I’m certain we can find your aunt once we attend to your well-being.”
Daphne pursed her lips and took a deep steadying breath. The man was far more persistent than she originally perceived, and irritatingly so. “As delightful as that sounds, I do not wish to impose on your time. I am certain there are many eager ladies waiting for you to join them in conversation.”
The earl shrugged. “I am only interested in one.”
She was tired of playing games, and was quite honestly, just plain tired. She had not been exaggerating when she had complained to the earl of the sun’s effects. And as subtlety had yet to gain her the results she desired (if she were to be frank, neither had direct confrontation), Daphne, with acerbic bluntness, asked, “But why? Especially when there are plenty of tolerable and good English girls to whom you might give your attentions?”
Lord, had she actually prefaced English with the word good?
The earl’s eyes widened before taking on a decidedly dangerous glint. “Are you implying American girls are not good, Miss Farrington? That they might be more wicked than English ones?”
Daphne cleared her throat and proceeded slowly, not entirely certain how to interpret the sudden change in his eyes. She had seen such a look, the same intense and almost hungry gaze on some of the men in her father’s employ. The sailors, who after long months at sea were starved of female attentions, often stared at her that way, but her brothers had always been present to shield her from any unwanted advances. That, however, was in Boston. Here, no one stood between her and the very attentive eyes or husky voice of the earl. Had fleeing from the duke been in her best interest?
She took a step back. “I suppose everyone has a bit of wickedness inside of them, my lord. It is, is it not, why many a sermon has been preached on that very subject?” Daphne glanced toward a group of ladies gathering around a nearby table. “What I mean to ask is why you wish to waste your attentions on an American. I’m not blind or deaf, my lord. I see the disdain in which your acquaintances hold me, no matter how politely they veil it.”
He continued to stare down at her, the pale blue-gray of his eyes darkening into the same menacing shade as the impending storm clouds. “I suspect you mistake disdain for jealousy, Miss Farrington. It is not every day we have someone from the former colonies amongst us. Especially a lady of such grace and prestige. One would have to be blind not to notice your fine qualities.”
Daphne was beginning to wonder if the man was not blind himself. Could he not see everyone’s contempt? Or the upward tilt of their noses as they raised them in indignation? “But I’m afraid your peers find me…behind in some regards.”
The earl snorted, his gaze intensifying as he leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “If anyone is behind the times, Miss Farrington, it is the majority of ladies present. I would be hard pressed to say that they are even aware of the most recent skirmish between our two nations.”
Skirmish? Was that the word the English used to describe years of endless battles, of men defending their nation’s sovereignty, and the insult of his country’s soldiers burning her nation’s capital? Her jaw clenched at the injustice and she stared hard at the pale leather of her slipper and the green landscape surrounding it. The lush blades of grass were surprisingly spry, despite the large number of people tramping over the lawn. If something as insignificant as a blade of grass could spring back after having been stepped on by the English, then so too, could she.
“The ladies present are not jealous of my nationality. I suspect they dislike me because contrary to them, my wealth was earned by my father’s own two hands.”
Like a candle being doused for the evening, so, too, had the intrigue in the earl’s eyes been extinguished. Confusion graced his features as he frowned. “Your father is a laborer, Miss Farrington?”
How had he not heard the whispers that even now were being exchanged behind gloved hands? Was he deaf as well as blind? “My father is a successful owner of a fleet of merchant vessels.”
“But your mother is the daughter of a marquess, is she not?”
Again, her lineage and ancestry were presented as if her self-worth was contained within the faded and ripped pages of some dusty tome of the peerage.
“My mother was the daughter of a marquess, my lord. She passed away when I was quite young.”
The duke silently appeared at her side, the spicy smell of his soap the only indication of his arrival.
“A tragedy most profound. No lady should have to be raised without the gentle instruction of a mother’s teachings,” the duke stated.
Daphne’s heart warmed at his sincerity. “Your Grace,” she said, bending her knees.
“Miss Farrington,” he bowed. “I have located your aunt. It seems she has been conversing with Lady Charlotte over tea. May I take you to her?”
A few stray beams of sunlight caught on the duke’s sideburns, the light-colored hair on his face now glittering like gold against his skin. He looked almost ethereal, as if he were an angel saving her from the earl, who now stood in the dark shadow he cast.
The image was utterly ridiculous. The duke was the very opposite of anything remotely divine. Sharing the same royal blood as those who commandeered her brother Samuel’s ship; better to compare him to a monster out of some forgotten storybook, with hair more akin to a golden mane and with—
The earl cleared his throat. “Miss Farrington is not feeling well. I was about to take her into the shade. A footman can locate Lady Amhurst while we wait.” He stood, his feet hip-width apart, in a decidedly defensive stance.
Her chances of finding her family with either man were equally improbable. It was time to resort to the way she always handled things and do them herself. With the weight of her family’s plight still heavy on her shoulders, she gave both gentlemen the warmest smile her temperament would allow.
“Thank you both for your concern, but I find that I am no longer in need of your assistance. I am certain I will have little difficulty finding my aunt.”
“But Miss Farrington,” the duke began, a hint of underlying steel lacing his voice. “I would be remiss in my duties as host if I did not accompany you.”
She stared up at him, his jaw firm and rigid, his eyes glittering with a threat, as if he were daring her to refuse him.
“Come now, Miss Farrington,” the earl cut in, a lopsided grin playing on his lips. “At least allow one of us to guide you to Lady Amhurst. You did, after all, seek out my assistance on the matter. That is, unless…” His grin deepened and his eyes flitted to the duke. �
��You sought me out for something else? Conversation, perhaps?”
A flash of anger flared in the duke’s eyes before a cool mask of indifference affixed itself on his face. “Indeed, Westbrook, if Miss Farrington wished to discuss the finer qualities of Sussex soil, I’m more than certain she would have sought you out above any other in attendance. Perhaps you could expound on the subject, since you possess such a vast knowledge on the finer points of running an estate.”
Clearly the two men had some sort of underlying quarrel to settle. The earl’s smile had been replaced by a stoic line, and his hands flexed ever so slightly at his sides. Daphne’s foot slipped to the left, moving her a fraction closer toward the cluster of decorated tables set out for the purpose of conversing, and where, presumably, her aunt sat sipping tea. Whatever disagreement Lord Westbrook had with His Grace, she rather wished to remove herself—at least another two and a half inches to the left—then she might be able to slip into the folds of the crowd that was now gathering around them.
The earl lifted his hand and inspected the fit of his glove. “Ah, yes. And I take it should Miss Farrington wish to know how to exploit a man’s vulnerabilities, she would inquire after your expertise on the matter.”
“As a gentleman, I strive to be as accommodating as possible.” The duke pulled his gloves taut and flexed his fingers inside their leathery confines. “And I suspect any man worthy of such a title would do the same.”
The earl’s nostrils flared, and for a moment, Daphne thought the two might actually come to blows. But the sudden arrival of her aunt prevented anything other than glares from being exchanged.
“Daphne! I’m so happy we found you, dear!” Her aunt’s hand slipped into hers and wrapped tightly around her fingers. She gave the duke an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid my niece and I must leave, Your Grace. My youngest is not feeling well and I think it best that we return home.” She sank into a curtsy, pulling Daphne down with her.
All feeling had escaped her hand, so tight was the grasp her aunt held as she gave another dip to the earl. “Good day, gentlemen.”
Aunt Susan began to lead her toward one of the linen-covered tables scattered across the lawn, the firm grip near wrenching her hand from its natural position.
Why was it that when Daphne wanted to leave none of her relations could be found, but when she actually wanted to stay and see whether things escalated between the two men, her aunt arrived, like some long forgotten cavalry?
Chapter Five
“I think he is handsome.” Henrietta stared out the window of the coach, her eyes glazing over as she let out an extended and airy sigh. “Don’t you think the Duke of Waverly is handsome?”
Daphne scrunched her nose as the coach pitched and swayed. Her teeth near rattled as the wheels slid into the deep ruts on the road. She should be concerned, or at least worried by the possibility of a sunken wheel. But with Henrietta’s constant mention of the duke, well, she could hardly think of anything else. Thousands of questions swirled in her head, despite her attempts to quash them. One question in particular continued to surface: why had he returned for her?
“You think everyone handsome,” Albina retorted. Her younger cousin tossed a dark curl over her shoulder and rolled her hazel-colored eyes. “He could have a wart on his nose, and you’d still think he was attractive.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Aunt Susan said. She flicked open her fan, its dainty floral pattern blurring as her aunt waved it about. “She is just taken with excitement is all.” She turned toward Sarah and gave an encouraging smile. “Did you have an engaging conversation with Lord Colwyn, dear?”
Sarah smoothed her skirt, the tiny wrinkles vanishing under her firm touch. “If the selection of hounds for breeding is engaging, then yes. Lord Colwyn had me completely enthralled for thirty excruciating minutes.”
Daphne bit her lip to hide the smile lurking at its corners. She did not want to encourage friendship by revealing her admiration for Sarah’s behavior. After all, Daphne had every intention of leaving London. Cultivating a relationship with her mother’s family would only complicate matters. There would be no tears when she departed and she preferred it that way.
“What of you, Daphne?” her aunt asked, bouncing off the seat cushion as the coach dipped. “How was your conversation with His Grace?”
All eyes turned toward her. Even Henrietta pulled herself away from the fogged glass to stare inquisitively in Daphne’s direction.
“Well…I…” How did one go about telling her English relations that she thought the duke was quite awful because he was English? “I suppose things went as well as to be expected.” She let out a little breath.
“Did you not find him handsome?” Henrietta asked. “I think he is terribly handsome.”
Albina pulled off her gloves. “And I suppose him being a duke has nothing at all to do with his attractiveness.”
“Absolutely not,” Henrietta breathed. “But I do think it adds to his character. Was he mysterious, Daphne? Or more debonair? I heard he’s quite unlike other men of his position.”
Daphne sat up, intrigued. “How, precisely, is he unlike other men of his position?” Was the duke more tyrannical? Brooding? Modest? She stopped herself at the thought of such foolishness. The Duke of Waverly was a duke, one related to the King of England. Of course he was different than his peers. He had…familial connections that others could not claim.
Henrietta smiled. “Why, he is rumored to be an intensely private man untainted by scandal. If one is to believe gossip, he doesn’t even keep a mistress.”
“Henrietta!” Aunt Susan exclaimed. “I don’t know where you even hear such things!” She turned toward Daphne, her fan pausing in mid-swipe. “How did you like the duke, dear?”
Daphne fidgeted with her gloves, her eyes darting to the floor, her mind frantically searching for a suitable word to quench their insatiable interest in her personal affairs. “He was rather…tolerable.”
“Tolerable?” Albina asked, surprised. “From my limited experience, I found him to be quite amiable.”
“I would have at least granted him ‘agreeable.’ He was ever the gentleman the other day,” Sarah noted.
“He is rather charming,” Henrietta said with a sigh.
“And most attentive,” Sarah added. She gave a sly smile. “Especially when in your company, Daphne.”
“I am sure he was equally attentive to the rest of his female guests,” Daphne argued. Had she not seen the throng of society maidens swooning at his feet?
“No,” Sarah assured. “I am quite certain he spent most of his time with you.” Her cousin’s eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief and Daphne couldn’t help but wonder if Sarah knew more about the duke and his attentions than she was revealing. Could it be possible that Sarah might have eavesdropped while Daphne had conversed with the duke?
“The way he came to your rescue was quite heroic,” Henrietta gushed. “I wish I were the recipient of such a grand and noble gesture.”
“Yes, indeed,” Aunt Susan agreed. “I am eternally thankful for his interruption this afternoon. I can only imagine the scandal that would have taken place had he not intervened. And this being Daphne’s first event of the Season.” She fluttered her fan about her face.
“To what rescue do you refer?” Daphne asked. “I have no knowledge of being in need of any assistance.”
Henrietta sat forward and placed a warm hand on Daphne’s knee. “You are too modest, Daphne. The duke was a true gentleman. I dare say he acted as your champion, rescuing your reputation from being tarnished.”
“But I was doing nothing untoward,” Daphne said. “Had I been in a compromising position, I would have welcomed the duke’s intervention, but I hardly think stating one’s personal views is worthy of condemnation.”
“It is not your behavior that concerns me, though you may wish to be more selective with where and to whom you voice your opinion.” Her aunt sighed. “I’m afraid I’ve not been as thoro
ugh in my societal tutorials as I ought to have been.”
Albina straightened her shoulders. “It was the earl who behaved poorly. He ought not to have encroached upon your person in such an intimate fashion. He had absolutely no regard for polite boundaries, leaning in as close as he was. Why, it appeared as though he might offer you a kiss right there in front of everyone. It was downright scandalous.”
Sarah gave Daphne a sidelong glance. “The duke’s arrival was quite fortuitous.”
Daphne fiddled in her reticule looking for nothing in particular, their stares making her squirm in discomfort. Fortuitous as his presence might have been, it irritated her that she had even required his assistance. She had acted ignorant and naïve, and was now indebted to the man. How could she even think to ask him for his financial assistance after this scrape? It only added to the list of things she needed from him, and she had never been one to willingly ask for charity, despite her brother’s demand.
“I hope the rain stops,” Sarah added. “I do not want to be late for dinner with Cousin Thomas. I can’t wait to regale him with the story of the duke’s gallantry.”
“I’m certain he’ll be far more interested in sharing the details of how his day was spent,” Daphne said.
Sarah cocked her head, a hint of mischief sparking in her eyes. “You mean his day spent scrambling to reassure and recuperate investors?”
Daphne’s head snapped to the side. It was evident she had far underestimated her cousin. “Perhaps.” Daphne pursed her lips and glanced at Henrietta and Albina. Were they equally aware of her family’s shipping problems?
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