Dare to Risk it All (Daring Daughters Book 7)

by Emma V. Leech

  The door banged shut and Greer sighed, turning back to the mirror. Her maid had arranged her hair so that it was centre parted and smooth over her head before turning into a riot of thick ringlets. A band of silk roses in the same unusual turquoise blue as her gown sat over the smooth hair, and Greer had to admit the results were beautiful.

  By the time she had dressed in all her finery, Greer was astonished to discover she was ready early. Usually, her father was bellowing for her to hurry, as she was the last one to come down the stairs. With time on her hands, she went to see how Aisling was getting on.

  “How lovely you look,” Greer exclaimed as Aisling’s maid let her in.

  Aisling wore a gown of soft ivory with tiers of lace-trimmed fabric over a wide skirt. The bodice was lavishly embroidered with white work, which Greer admired with an exclamation of delight.

  “Don’t tell, but I made it myself,” Aisling said sheepishly.

  “How clever you are!” Greer shook her head in wonder. Aisling had such patience and an extraordinary talent for embroidery and needlework, but the ton would never approve of ladies of fashion making their own gowns.

  “I love making things,” Aisling admitted. “But I’m not supposed to tell anyone about it. People might think we’re poor,” she added with a wicked twinkle in her eyes.

  Greer snorted, as Aisling was the daughter of an earl that seemed unlikely.

  “Shall we go down now? I’m too excited to sit still.”

  “You never sit still. Even when you’re not excited,” Aisling observed, but nodded, moving to pick up her fan.

  They made their way down the stairs and heard animated voices coming from the parlour. Clearly, everyone had readied themselves in good time. Elspeth and Dare, Greer’s parents, her little sister Alana, and all three of the Cootes brothers were already there.

  “Goodness, look at you two,” Mama said, pressing her hand to her heart as they walked in. “You look like goddesses, both of you. The gentlemen will fall over themselves wanting to dance with you.”

  “Thank you, Mama,” Greer said, grinning and kissing her mother’s cheek.

  She always took Mama’s comments with a pinch of salt, however, as her mother believed her daughters the most wonderful in the world and never hesitated to tell them so. Aisling was a regular visitor to their household and so also fell under Mama’s loving and all-encompassing approval. Greer looked around to find Raphe watching her, and a shiver prickled over her skin as she caught the possessive glint in his eyes. He looked positively feral.

  “Goodness,” Aisling said, and Greer glanced at her, realising she had seen it too. “You must stay away from him, Gee. Everyone says he’s wicked and the look he just gave you…! My word, he looks like he wants to eat you in one bite.”

  Far from making Greer apprehensive, Aisling’s words only heated her skin and made strange little fluttering sensations burst to life in her belly.

  “He’s not so wicked as all that,” she protested, and then remembered how short an acquaintance they’d had, and just how intimate they’d already been. Her cheeks burned. She had allowed him that intimacy, though, so she must be just as wicked as he was.

  “Gee,” Aisling said, studying her flushed face with concern. “You have done nothing you ought not already?”

  “No!” Greer said, a little too hastily. “Of course not.”

  Her lie was obviously not convincing; Aisling sighed and took hold of her hand, squeezing her fingers.

  “Do be careful, darling. He’ll ruin you without a second thought, and then where will you be?”

  “He won’t,” Greer objected, annoyed now, though she knew it was silly.

  Yes, Raphe had earned his reputation with his own appalling behaviour, but that did not mean he couldn’t change, did it? Or did it? No doubt there were hundreds of ruined females the world over who had thought the same thing, she reflected gloomily. Greer could not help another glance at him. As ever, he turned and looked at her at the same moment. He smiled, a rueful quirk of his lip that seemed to say he was as hopelessly caught in the power of this insane infatuation as she was, and was just as confounded by how to fight it.

  “Perhaps not,” Aisling allowed, though anxiety shone in her soft brown eyes. “Perhaps he’ll marry you. That might be worse, you know. Imagine marrying a man who will never be faithful to you and spends your dowry on drink and debauchery.”

  “That’s not fair,” Greer snapped, and then felt dreadful at having reacted so crossly. Aisling was not trying to be unkind to Raphe. She was only afraid that Greer would do something reckless. With good reason, too, for all she could think about was being alone with Raphe, which was utter madness. She must try to behave herself. “I beg your pardon, Aisling. I ought not to have spoken so to you. It’s only… he’s not like that at heart, and I know that makes me sound like a fool. Perhaps I am a fool, but I believe there is more to him than that. Oh, please, let us speak about something else!”

  Aisling nodded, giving her a smile so full of sympathy and understanding that Greer felt more wretched than ever.

  I will behave like a gentleman. I will not drink. I will not say or do anything inappropriate. I will speak politely to the other guests. I will not drag Miss Cadogan into a dark corner and debauch her.

  Raphe repeated the words like a mantra, committing them to memory and praying he could get through the night without doing anything dreadful. He would behave as if Rothborn were here, watching his every move, and he may as well be, for there were enough guests here who would delight in reporting Raphe’s behaviour to him if he put a toe out of line.

  “Don’t look so grim, old man. You’re going to a party, not the gallows.”

  Dare grinned at him as he settled opposite him in the carriage. Raphe snorted.

  “I’ve forgotten how to behave in polite society,” he admitted. “I’m sat upon thorns wondering if I’ll spoil everyone’s evening by doing or saying something reprehensible.”

  “Don’t be foolish. You’ve been a delightful guest since my family arrived,” Elspeth surprised him by saying. “So long as you treat all the young ladies with the respect they deserve, I am confident it will be a wonderful evening.”

  She smiled at him warmly, but he did not miss the glint of steel—and the unspoken message—in her pretty green eyes.

  Touch my sister and I’ll make you sorry you were born.

  “Thank you, my lady,” he said carefully, noting the amusement in Dare’s expression as he too heard the threat.

  They arrived at Royle House in good time, the lengthy road to the entrance lit by hundreds of torches. Raphe looked up at the familiar leviathan that sprawled over the countryside like a giant gilded elephant. It was a vast and imposing building, built to impress upon the viewer just how wealthy and powerful its owner was. The Dukes of Axton had never been subtle. The heir apparent, one of Raphe’s oldest friends, the Marquess of Bainbridge, was rather less concerned than his ancestors about showing off his assets, but was also about as subtle as a rhinoceros, so there was no doubt whatsoever about his bloodline.

  Dozens of liveried footmen peopled the enormous area before the magnificent house as carriages arrived one after the other and lavishly dressed guests made their way inside.

  Dare guided their party indoors, to where Bainbridge and his marchioness were greeting their guests.

  “Raphe, you devil!” Bainbridge exclaimed, his voice booming across the entrance hall as he caught sight of him.

  Rather to Raphe’s surprise, Bainbridge hauled him into a bear hug and slapped him on the back several times, so hard that Raphe almost staggered. An affectionate Bainbridge often left bruises.

  “You look well,” Bainbridge observed, letting him go to give him a critical once over. “Off the booze?”

  Raphe sighed and nodded, too aware of the guests queuing behind them, listening with avid interest. “Yes, dry as the damned Sahara.”

  “Good man, well done,” Bainbridge said approvingly. “Had
us worried there. Didn’t know who I was when we came for you.”

  Raphe felt a stab of regret as he heard what his friend did not say aloud: Bainbridge had feared he would die.

  “Darling, not here,” his wife murmured reproachfully before greeting Raphe with surprising warmth considering his reputation, but then she had been married to Bainbridge for some months now, so perhaps she was unshockable. “It is good to finally meet you, Lord de Ligne. I hope you enjoy the evening.”

  “I am sure I will. Thank you for your kind invitation.”

  He went to move on but glanced back as the Marchioness gave a squeal of delight. “Greer, darling!”

  The two women embraced warmly, exclaiming and chattering, before Lady Bainbridge gave another squeal and fell on the neck of Lady Aisling. Raphe watched, amused to see Bainbridge watching his wife with a proprietary, indulgent expression. He had never seen his friend so relaxed and obviously happy. Raphe looked away and walked through the immense entrance hall, noting Dare and Elspeth moving up the stairs in front of him as Dare leaned into whisper something to his wife. Elspeth laughed, throwing her head back with delight at whatever Dare had said, and Dare beamed at her. Raphe swallowed down an unwelcome surge of jealousy and carried on walking towards the ballroom.

  Like the rest of the building, the ballroom was a ridiculously opulent room, gilded to within an inch of its life. Ornate plasterwork covered the entire space, which was flanked by towering marble columns, lit by glittering chandeliers, and lined with acres of mirror that reflected the incredible scene back on itself, making it appear even larger and grander than it was. Footmen carried endless trays of crystal glasses filled with champagne back and forth, and silver platters of delicate little hors d’oeuvres, while an orchestra played, inviting people to dance.

  “Where’s Ollie?” Raphe asked Sylvester, an hour later. He was doing his best to be the model guest and big brother, and he hadn’t seen his youngest sibling for some time.

  “I don’t know,” Sylvester said with a shrug. “Probably bored stiff and smuggling sweetmeats to Miss Alana. They have given us all a lavish suite of rooms upstairs, but it did not mollify the young lady. She was vexed to death at not being allowed to attend the ball.”

  “Lord,” Raphe cursed. “He ought to know better than that. He’ll get her into trouble.”

  “They’re just children,” Sylvester replied, laughing.

  Raphe shook his head. “He’s sixteen, Sy. Remember what we were like at that age?”

  Sly hesitated. “Perhaps you’d best find him, then.”

  With a snort, Raphe strode off.

  Greer had been making her way to the refreshment room but diverted at the last minute, dashing behind a large potted palm. She held her breath as a young man strode purposely past her without noticing where she’d hidden herself. Thank heavens. He’d been intent on asking her for the next country dance.

  She had not missed a single dance since the moment she had arrived, and she was already red-cheeked and out of breath. The young gentleman had been nice-looking and perfectly amiable, but she did not wish to dance with him. The truth was, there was only one man she wanted to dance with, and the devil hadn’t yet asked her, though she had given him every opportunity to do so. She knew he was on his best behaviour, and she appreciated that, but surely dancing with her wasn’t the first step on the road to perdition? Their attraction to each other might be a little out of control, but she did not think it would reduce them to ravishing each other in full view of the ballroom. Now, though, the wretched man had disappeared entirely.

  After she had drunk two large glasses of lemonade with more haste than was seemly, Greer made her way back to the ballroom and found Sylvester watching Aisling dance with a tall, elegant, fair-haired fellow. He was scowling.

  “When is your dance?” she asked him.

  “The one after this,” he said, not taking his eyes from Aisling. “Who is that fellow?”

  Greer shook her head. “I don’t know,” and then because she was wicked like that, added: “But he’s dreadfully handsome.”

  Sylvester offered her a dark look, and she grinned at him.

  “Where’s your brother?” she asked.

  Obviously teasing her in return, Sylvester asked blandly, “Which brother?”

  Greer sighed, and he smirked at her. “Raphe’s gone to find Ollie. He’s worried the little devil has disappeared in order to supply your sister with treats.”

  “Oh, lud,” Greer said, though she could not hide her amusement. “I’d best check on her.”

  She hurried off, leaving Sylvester to continue his scowling observation of the handsome man dancing with Aisling.

  It took Greer a good quarter hour to retrace her steps back to the suite of rooms her family had been given. After several wrong turns and the help of a friendly footman, she finally made it to her sister’s room, only to find it empty.

  “Oh, Alana!” she muttered crossly, and hurried out again.

  She met Alana’s governess on the landing. “I only turned my back for a moment!” the woman said frantically.

  “I know,” Greer said, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll find her.”

  Where could the naughty girl have got to? She stood thinking, hearing the music swelling from the ballroom and wishing she were dancing with Raphe. Well, the night was young yet. First, she must find her sister. Where might she go?

  The dogs.

  Alana adored dogs and had been beside herself with excitement when Raphe had told her about the duke’s five mastiffs. The idea had similarly taken Ollie as both he and Alana had played with Dare’s pups at every opportunity, and the lot of them were always tumbling about the hall like mad things. The idea of the hulking mastiffs, though, had been a lure beyond bearing, and Alana had been itching to play with them. It had been love at first sight on both sides when she’d met Thorn, who had taken an instant liking to her and shamelessly rolled on his back to have his belly rubbed. Greer knew that the dogs, who were excitable and so large and intimidating they were liable to frighten the guests, were being kept in one of the larger stalls in the beautiful stable buildings next to the Royle House. The stables were almost as grand as the house itself, designed to accommodate the finest horses to be found anywhere in the country.

  “Drat you, Alana,” Greer muttered, shivering as she made her way out of doors and glancing over her shoulder to ensure no one had observed her. She had just turned the corner and into the stable block when she saw Raphe coming in the other direction. They both froze, staring at each other.

  “They’re not there,” he said, hurrying towards her, his expression grim. “And neither are the dogs.”

  “Oh, dear,” Greer said, anxious for her sister but unable to take her eyes off Raphe.

  He looked dreadfully wicked, dressed entirely in black except for his snowy white cravat and shirt collar, and the moonlight cast his profile in silver. Her heart gave a few erratic extra beats.

  “You ought not be out here alone.” The words were an impatient growl of annoyance, but his gaze upon her was hot, displaying an altogether different emotion.

  “I know,” she said, suddenly breathless. “But I was worried about Alana.”

  “Then you ought to have fetched your father,” he replied, terse now.

  “I never tattle,” she retorted indignantly.

  Raphe raised his eyes to the heavens, as if praying for patience, and Greer was about to speak again when they both stiffened. Voices, and they were approaching from the house.

  “Just you wait until I show you. I swear Jonas is the finest stallion that ever lived. He’s worth ten times what I’m asking.” The voice was loud and insistent, echoing easily about the stable yard.

  Before Greer could react, Raphe tugged her by the arm, pulling her into an unoccupied stall. She gasped in shock, but Raphe’s hand covered her mouth to silence her, and they stood, unseen in the darkness, as two men passed them by. One was a short stocky fel
low, still speaking with a belligerent tone, apparently annoyed by his companion’s lack of enthusiasm. The man beside him was the tall, handsome fellow who’d been dancing with Aisling. Raphe jolted in surprise as he saw them go by.

  Once they’d gone out of earshot, Greer turned to look at him.

  “Christ,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  He nodded, bemused. “I have. That was Maxwell Drake, Earl of Vane. He’s supposed to be dead. Murdered, actually.”

  Greer frowned. “The Earl of Vane? Oh, he’s the one that disappeared, isn’t he?” She remembered the story now. He’d been last seen months ago, leaving a tavern much the worse for drink and had disappeared. A friend, leaving a little after he had, had found his signet ring in a pool of blood in a dark alley. Everyone had assumed the worst.

  “How do you know him, and if he’s dead, what’s he doing here?”

  “I don’t know,” Raphe replied. “We were drinking companions before he disappeared. He’s a regular devil—and that’s coming from me, you understand. I would never keep company with him usually, only… well, I didn’t much care what I was about until recently.”

  Greer nodded her understanding and reached up to touch his cheek. “You’ve changed,” she whispered.

  Raphe’s breath caught in an audible gasp, and he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch like a large, friendly cat. A hungry panther, perhaps, she thought ruefully.

  “Greer,” he said, sounding pained. “Don’t touch me, love. I… I can’t….”

  Though it took a great effort of will, Greer dropped her hand and put some distance between them. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

  He let out an uneven breath. “Come along. If we’re caught out here, there will be hell to pay. Let’s find our dreadful siblings and get back to the party.”

  Greer nodded regretfully, and Raphe surveyed their surroundings to ensure no one was watching before escorting her to the house.

  Chapter 9

  Monsieur Le Comte,