He laughed, waving a hand to dismiss her concern. “I’m coachman it’s true, but the earl goes with another in the morning so they can talk freely on the way. Lord Michaels’ coachman takes this leg while I go to get them at the end of the day.”
Daphne tied her laces slowly, thinking about what he’d said. “Then you’re free in the mornings?” she asked, a plan just starting to form.
“As long as you or Lady Grace has no need of me. The Lady Scarborough is unlikely to travel before noon.” Willem gave her an intent look, as if waiting for her to say something, as if he expected her next words.
She’d thought to make a command of them, but her words, when she spoke, came out soft and gentle. “Would you meet me here then? At eight each morning? I’d like your flute to practice to.”
He swept into a low bow, his grin visible from the side. “Of course, my lady. As you desire.”
Her stomach rumbled before she could answer, making them both laugh.
“Morning will come again soon enough,” he said, his tone filled with understanding. “You should go eat now, before the breakfast offering has all gone cold, fit only for dogs.”
She nodded, her throat tight with emotion. With his help, she had a chance. She could really make this happen.
LADY SCARBOROUGH GREETED DAPHNE WITH a nod, no longer showing any surprise at her daughter rising so late. Daphne slid into her chair and accepted the bowl of steaming porridge a maid put in front of her, the butter on top just starting to melt.
“I was thinking to go to my dresser’s today, Daphne. Would you like to join me?”
Looking up, Daphne sighed inwardly at the hesitation in her mother’s tone. She smiled, keeping back the intense joy she felt from her practice in favor of a subtler expression. “If it pleases you,” she murmured, knowing she’d have to relent sometime.
Mother looked shocked for just a heartbeat before her face changed to show her delight. “It would. It would indeed. With the late morning hours you’re keeping now, you’d think you already spent the night out at gala after gala. I think it’s fine time to outfit you for a few small events.”
Daphne nodded, hiding her grimace behind a spoon of the cereal. She’d be hard pressed to keep with her rigorous training schedule if she stayed up into the wee hours of the morning pretending interest in the gawking boys who were after her father’s title. Even the dancing there held little of the passion and grace of true dance, not that she’d be allowed on the floor anyway.
Her mother continued speaking, planning which event would be best to make a quiet debut. Not a full coming out, but just an introduction, so she said. Daphne soon stopped listening, knowing well enough she need make no suggestions and that the plans would progress well enough without her support and even fine if she chose to express any objections.
She let her mother carry on, but Daphne had her own plans. The memory of her latest training drew a smile across her face, Willem’s flute and her graceful form creating a powerful combination.
“Now I hadn’t thought you cared much for Penelope. She’d be the perfect companion as you embark on this next step. Her parents are planning her coming out next spring. You could launch officially together.”
Daphne stared dumbly at her mother for a long moment before she realized Lady Scarborough must have connected the smile to whatever she’d been saying at that time. “Penelope seems a nice enough girl,” she managed, again filling her mouth to prevent an error.
Mother shook her head, waving to the maid to take Daphne’s bowl. “You’ve had enough of that. For someone who will make her full debut in spring, you have to start being conscious of these things. Bring her some fruits and cheese, won’t you, Mary?”
Smothering her protests, Daphne let the maid take her half-eaten porridge away in favor of a small platter of fruits and cheese. Her stomach grumbled at the substitution, but she had no choice. She had to get what energy she could from what she had. Dancing took more than her mother ever imagined, and Daphne couldn’t even explain why she needed the extra sustenance.
“I know,” her mother said, with a big smile. “Penelope’s mother will be at the arts discussion Marilyn Fowler’s holding. I’ll arrange for you to call on her tomorrow if you’d like. The two of you must have so much to talk about. It’ll be good for you to spend time with someone your own age.”
Daphne stared at her mother, horrified. How had a simple smile led to this? “Oh Mother, I couldn’t,” she whispered, her mind filled with an endless stream of things taking her away from her only love.
“Oh posh, my dear. No need to be shy. You’re just as good as any of them for all I let your father keep you a bit sheltered. I should have done away with that dancing years ago, but he thought it made you so happy.” She shook her head at Daphne. “And now look where you are. I tell you it will be fun. You’ll see quick enough there’s no need to mope in your room.” Leaning across, her mother patted Daphne’s hand firmly. “You have a lot going for you if you’d only take a moment to look around.”
Knowing that firm voice meant her mother’s mind was made up, Daphne smothered an unhappy sigh. “In the afternoon then,” she offered.
Mother smiled approvingly. “Of course. In the afternoon. We want you at your best.” She looked at the dress Daphne wore and shook her head. “A pity we don’t have time to get you into something more appealing, but that will come. No need to style you as anything more than the young girl you still are.”
Daphne pushed back from the table, acutely aware of the way her gown stretched against her chest and revealed a full inch of ankle. She’d pulled it from the cupboard after practice without even looking, hunger gnawing at her stomach so much she almost went to breakfast in the wrinkled, sweat-stained dress she’d danced in. Only the knowledge that her secret would be out drove her back to her room to change. She hadn’t taken the time to choose one that didn’t show how her body had matured.
“I’m done,” she said as she stood up. “I’ll be in my room.” Though she knew she fled, sometimes retreat was the better part of valor. She didn’t think her mother would concoct any more grand plans with her absent.
Her mother nodded, “Probably wise. Stuffing yourself before being measured would be foolish. I’ll send for you when I’m ready to leave.”
Daphne barely paused at the door to acknowledge her mother’s words. She’d forgotten about the gowns. Rest and quiet had been denied to her.
TUGGING THE SIDES OF HER new dress, Daphne struggled to recapture the joy of her morning practice. A yawn split her face as she fidgeted with the colorful ribbons lacing the front of the bodice, all dressed up for an outing when she needed a quiet rest with her books.
“Oh stop playing with them,” her mother said, irritation coloring her voice. “It’s the latest style, Hellenic, and you heard the seamstress. She couldn’t have dreamed of getting you a new dress in one day if not for the lacing that allowed her to readjust the size without extensive stitching.
Daphne dropped her hands to her lap, twining the fingers to keep them still. “I didn’t need a new dress,” she murmured, trying to keep the petulance from her tone.
Mother laughed. “You say that now, dearest, but just wait until you’re in a room with all your rivals and they have the most beautiful gowns. Then you’ll be happy for this.” Her mother tapped Daphne’s knee where the thick layers of pleated cloth lay heavy against her. “Just remember, no matter how much you might like them, each and every one is after the same man that you desire. Watch carefully. Learn both how to act and how to make yourself stand out.”
She glanced toward the mantle and her husband’s portrait. “How else do you think I could have snared your father? He might think the marriage arranged, but I didn’t dance attendance on his crippled aunt for nothing.”
Daphne stared at her mother, seeing a side she’d never really known before.
Lady Scarborough laughed. “Don’t look so shocked, my dear. It’s not as simple as you might think.
You could leave the decision up to your father and end up second or third wife to one of his cronies. Far better to take a hand in it yourself no matter what it takes. Listen well today and you’ll see that I’m right.” She shook her head. “We really should not have sheltered you so much. Made all this too much of a surprise. You have a lot of catching up to do if you want your coming out to be a success. I’m so glad you’ve finally decided to put yourself out. Penelope may not be the cream, but she’s far from the chaff. You do well to learn from that young lady. Why, I’d guess she has her husband already picked out for all she’s not officially available.”
A cough drew their attention to the parlor doorway and relief flooded Daphne as the conversation came to a sudden halt.
Daphne leapt up, bending down to press a kiss against her mother’s dry cheek before striding to where Willem waited to escort her to the carriage.
“Now Daphne, no need to seem so eager. Don’t let the girl know how dependent you are. You’d think all that time spent with that dance tutor wasted.” A small gasp escaped her mother’s lips as Lady Scarborough pressed fingers against her mouth as if to call back the words.
“I’ll remember,” Daphne said softly, her mind racing back to her practice in the morning where she achieved a step Monsieur Henre had shown her the visit before his dismissal. Remembering her triumph brought heat to her cheeks and grace back to her motions as she followed Willem to the carriage. No matter what she had to suffer, she’d have the morning to look forward to.
Another yawn stretched her mouth as the hard exercise took its toll especially after Lady Scarborough dragged her about the previous afternoon. She’d have the morning to look forward to only if she could stay awake through the night.
CHAPTER FIVE
The rhythmic sound of wheels against cobblestone lulled Daphne into a light doze. She noticed when the carriage stopped, but thought little of it until Willem called down.
“My lady, we’re here. Want me to walk you to the door?”
She glanced up to the small window framing Willem’s face and grimaced. “I’ll be fine. Just call back for me in two hours. I’m not sure I’ll last that long.” With a small gasp, she felt heat rush into her face. “I didn’t mean that…well, I did about the time.” Shaking her head, Daphne gave up. She’d become much too comfortable with Willem during their morning sessions but that was no call to be rude to Penelope even where the other girl couldn’t hear her.
He climbed down and opened the door for her, bowing as she stepped out of the carriage. “It’ll be fine, my lady. You’ll see,” he whispered, giving her a small measure of encouragement.
Daphne glanced his way with a shaky smile before straightening her spine and marching up the steps, determined to survive this encounter.
The large, carved door swung inward as she approached and an intimidating butler held out his hand for her card. Daphne smiled as she fumbled in her reticule for the cards her mother had offered as identification since Daphne was too young to have her own made.
The butler stared down at the card then raised one eyebrow. “Lady Scarborough?” Doubt colored his tone.
Daphne raised her chin and looked him in the eye. “Her daughter, Lady Daphne. I’m expected.”
The harsh demeanor cracked for a moment into an approving smile. “Lady Daphne. Of course.” He stepped back to let her through. “They’ve gathered in the front salon. Just follow me.”
They? Who else could she expect to see at this gathering? She walked the seven feet down the hallway, her shoulders tensing with each step.
He opened the door and a burst of laughter came from the room beyond.
“The Lady Daphne Scarborough,” he announced, waving her forward.
Daphne crossed the opening to find a large group of both men and women, each staring up at her. A half smile tugged at her lip as she realized how right her mother had been about the need to dress. She took the fresh material of her new gown in her hands, hoped she had no carriage lines pressed into her face, and curtsied as best as she could.
“Oh do come and sit down,” an older version of Penelope declared, pointing to an unoccupied corner of the sofa.
Grateful as attention turned back to Penelope’s sister, Daphne slipped into the seat, trying to mimic the posture of the other ladies present. She managed to hide another yawn as she turned to admire a landscape hanging from the wall next to the sofa but when she turned back, no one was paying any attention to her anyway. She opened her mouth to comment on the painting when one of the young men spoke.
“Oh you can’t seriously be mourning his loss, can you?” the man said, his voice strident. “Do you really miss him looking down that long nose of his at you?”
Penelope’s sister laughed and touched the man’s sleeve with her fan. “Now, Filbert. It’s not very gentlemanly for you to speak ill of the man. Jealousy is such a weak emotion.”
The young man frowned, carefully rearranging the lace extruding from his coat sleeves. “While I can’t deny he’s a handsome chap,” he said in a tight voice, “for a leader in the ton to seek a bluestocking is beyond the pale. He fails to appreciate the finer things well-bred ladies such as are represented here can offer. He seeks instead the kind of discourse better reserved for gentlemen’s talks over cigars and brandy.”
Several of the ladies gave him approving looks, but Daphne felt her interest piqued. Who was this remarkable man?
“You can’t fault his support of the arts though, Filbert. He’s kept more than one personal eye on the most entrancing of stars,” another young man broke in, this one seated on a stool near Daphne.
“Bernard, you watch your tongue,” a young lady next to Penelope’s sister said, the laughter in her voice undermining her scold. “We don’t talk about such things in mixed company.”
He flushed, gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before he recovered. “I only meant he patronizes many different art forms, music, theater, even dance.”
The lady who had chastised him shook her head before turning away. “Even if some of us go masked to see the same performances,” she added as though he had not spoken.
“Not that his preferences matter any longer. Rumor has it his mother chose the poor man a bride. I doubt she’ll share any of the characteristics he might value, but maybe she won’t shame the Pendleton name either.”
The others nodded at the pronouncement from Penelope’s sister and turned to talk about other members of the ton. Daphne sank back against the seat, her interest fading at the sound of his name. If ever she could have found a man she would have been willing to tie her life to, one who appreciated knowledge and enjoyed the arts seemed to have a chance. And yet, the name told a different story. He was her sister’s choice, or at least the one their parents had found for her.
“Daphne, I was so surprised when your mother said you’d like to come,” Penelope burst out, having emerged from whichever corner her sister had tucked her in. “Which is not to say you aren’t welcome because you are. Just a surprise. Here, move over a bit and we’ll chat.”
Pushing closer to the woman on her left, Daphne made room for Penelope, a slender, nervous young girl who never seemed able to slow down at all.
“So, have you all your gowns picked out? My mother’s dresser came up with a glorious plan to color my white dresses while not offending any of the grand ladies. I’ll have patterned underskirts with just enough color to show through.” Penelope clasped her hands together in her lap. “It’s so marvelous. I can’t wait for my first ball. It seems forever until the spring comes again. I just don’t know why my parents couldn’t have done my coming out this year. It’s been a full season since my sister’s and she’s dangling several offers. She only has to choose. It’s not like I’d interfere or anything.”
Daphne tried her best to nod at the right places as Penelope’s fierce whisper drowned out what the older people were saying. A headache began in the bridge of her nose. She struggled not to reach up and pinch it.
“Are you all right?” Penelope asked, breaking up a constant stream of information about the planning for her coming out. “You look a bit peaked.”
Managing a wan smile, Daphne shook her head. “I’m fine. I just had a late night and an early morning.”
“Oh you poor dear.” Penelope patted Daphne’s arm in a clear imitation of someone older. “I can’t imagine what would drag you out of bed with the sun lower than the sky’s height. Wait a moment and I’ll be right back.”
The other girl bounced up and raced across the room in quick steps until she reached the pull cord. Deep in the house, Daphne heard a gong sounding.
Penelope’s sister glanced over at the movement. “Oh, be a dear and get tea for the lot of us. Run along and ask cook for some sandwiches. We’re all famished. It’s been hours since breakfast.”
Daphne smiled, recognizing the origin of Penelope’s imitation as her sister sent her off on an errand. Grace had always been her friend and confidant. Clearly, Penelope did not share the same closeness with her sister.
“And you are again?” the young man who had spoken of the arts before said, raising a monocle to stare at her.
She stared back, startled by the sudden attention.
“Oh, yes. The Scarborough girl. Younger, I presume? You look nothing like your sister.”
Daphne blushed under the sharp gaze, knowing full well she lacked her sister’s elegant looks. Her rounded cheeks and wide smile took away all chance of being considered a beauty, but she didn’t need a stranger pointing it out to her.
“I’m surprised you’ve ever met her,” Daphne shot, her tone as sharp as his look. “I can’t imagine my father allowing her to associate with those who’d speak so about the arts.”
He jerked back, the monocle falling to the end of its chain as he stared at her for a long moment, suffering the reminder of his earlier indelicacy. Then he laughed, a sharp bark of sound. “And unlike her, you have bite. Well, well, it’ll be an interesting season once you’re allowed out of those whites.”
Beneath the Mask Page 4
