“She is with Elaine and Celia,” Rebecca replied, as she scanned the vicinity.
“No, she is not.” A dark sense of foreboding shrouded him in palpable anxiety. “I found Elaine and Celia, and Daphne was not with them.”
“I will check the dining room, as she may be at the buffet.” To Dirk, Rebecca said, “Darling, will you look in the back parlor, as she may have ventured in there.”
“Then I will search the terrace.” Dalton glimpsed the open doors. “And we will meet in the foyer.”
As he navigated the ocean of couples, he shrugged off the panic pulsing within his muscles and told himself he was overreacting. Daphne was curious, and she had probably enacted an impromptu exploration of the Richmond’s home. When he stepped to the flagged surface, and the cool night air penetrated his clothes, he shivered. Following a graveled path, hushed voices brought him to the side garden, and he halted in his tracks.
Bathed in the silvery glow of a full moon, an obscene congregate, of sorts, framed his future wife at either side. Whispering in her ears, Lady Moreton and Lord Sheldon stood as two foul bookends, and Daphne sobbed when she spotted Dalton. Tears glistened as they streamed her cheeks, her expression manifested unspoken horror, and her gaze struck him as a vicious punch between the eyes.
“Enough.” Daphne wrenched free and raised a clenched fist. “I would thank you never again to intrude upon my hospitality, as I may be moved to violence.”
And then she ran in the opposite direction.
CHAPTER NINE
Five days later, Daphne huddled on the landing at Randolph House and fought cursed tears. Repulsed by her own weak spirit, she dried her face on her sleeve and vowed not to cry again. Of course, she would break that oath, as she had done little else after the Richmond’s ball. Given what Lady Moreton and Lord Sheldon had disclosed of Daphne’s erstwhile true knight, she loomed at a painful impasse, and she prayed her appointment would provide some comfort and much needed insight.
“I am sorry, Sir Dalton.” Hughes clasped his hands behind his back. “Miss Daphne bade me convey her regrets, as she remains unwell and unavailable.”
“Thank you, Hughes.” Dirk chucked Dalton’s shoulder. “Worry not, brother. She will come around, as she is a sensible girl, but she needs time. Why not join me in the study for a brandy?”
“But I need to explain what happened.” Dalton appeared bedraggled, as if he had not slept since last Thursday. “Sheldon drugged me, and I ended my affair with Lady Moreton. They hurt Daphne on purpose, because of me, and I must make amends, as I cannot lose her.”
Dalton’s spontaneous and unintended confession captured her attention, as he had just altered her perspective, though he knew it not. Mollified, to an extent, she gazed at the ceiling and sighed, as she hated being at odds with her savior. Covering her mouth with her hand, she hugged the wall and almost screamed when Rebecca tapped Daphne on the shoulder.
“Down the back stairs, now.” The viscountess led the way. “I had the coach brought to the mews, so you might avoid Dalton until you are ready to receive him.”
“Becca, do you think ill of me?” Daphne bumped into her hostess, when Rebecca came to an abrupt halt. “Am I wrong to seek some understanding of Dalton’s actions, before granting him an audience?”
“No.” At the terrace doors, Rebecca retrieved Daphne’s pelisse from a chair and draped the coat about Daphne’s shoulders. “When Dirk related Dalton’s discreditable behavior, my first desire was to string the younger Randolph from the highest yardarm, as I could not stomach his stupidity.”
“But now you feel otherwise.” Desperate for the minutest measure of solace, Daphne grasped Becca’s hands. “Tell me I am wrong. Tell me I am making too much of nothing. Tell me to believe in him, and I will do so.”
“My dear, calm yourself.” Rebecca squeezed Daphne’s fingers. “Come. Let us get you in the rig, so you might find peace and make your decision, as the choice must be yours, freely made. And I can’t advise you in this matter, as I have no right to judge Dalton, because I am hardly an impartial critic without sin.”
“So you have an opinion?” Together, they walked through the garden. “I would love to hear it.”
“After you have reached your conclusion, I will explain an intimate part of my past, which has direct bearing on your situation with Dalton.” Rebecca unlatched and opened a gate. “But not until you reconcile things with him, as I would not influence your position.”
“I understand.” In the rear courtyard, a footman handed Daphne to the coach. “Thank you, Becca.”
The former spy winked, retreated a step, and shouted, “Drive on.”
As she reclined in the squabs, Daphne examined the ermine trim of her lavender pelisse, the matching day dress, and her crisp white gloves, all purchased with Dalton’s funds. Whenever she pondered the fact that his money had supplied every stitch of clothing on her body, she shivered. She owed him so much, yet she could not ignore the salacious deeds Lady Moreton and Lord Sheldon had described in embarrassing detail.
When she had accepted Dalton’s less than romantic proposal, the happy bargain had not included an ill-mannered former mistress and a handsome but cunning reprobate bent on spreading ill will. But the simple fact remained that she cared for Dalton, and she had faith in him, though he tested her conviction to new lengths. And while she had withdrawn from society, as she had to gather her wits, and she refused to cry in public, what hurt her most was the prospect of never winning Dalton’s heart. But how could she compete, given his carnal predilections?
Just then, the coach halted before a resplendent brick mansion, which boasted a double-door entrance and the number 24 etched in the masonry. As she ascended the stairs, a very proper butler set wide the oak panels and then bowed.
“Miss Daphne, I presume?” The manservant smiled.
“Yes.” She nodded, stepped into the foyer, and doffed her outerwear. “I have a prior engagement with Lady Amanda.”
“Her ladyship awaits your presence in the drawing room.” The butler lifted his chin. “If you will follow me, please.”
The elegant chamber sported distemper wall coverings trimmed in mahogany, velvet drapes, a damask sofa and matching chaise, and two Hepplewhite chairs, bathed in rich navy blue. A fire burned in the hearth, which abated the unseasonably cool May afternoon. Seated amid the majesty, the graceful hostess, with hair black as a crow’s feather, regal features, and crystal blue eyes, smiled.
“Miss Daphne is just arrived, your ladyship.” The manservant bowed.
“”Thank you, Hamilton. That will be all.” Lady Amanda stood and approached, with arms outstretched. “Daphne, how wonderful to see you. And how are you, my poor dear? I have heard some of your travails, when Rebecca visited Sabrina and my new granddaughter, yesterday.”
“How is Sabrina?” At Lady Amanda’s urging, Daphne eased to the sofa. “And what of Phoebe? Rebecca tells me the baby is beautiful, and Everett is thrilled.”
“Daresay I have never seen a prouder papa, and I have no doubt my son-in-law will spoil her, as Everett dotes on her, already.” Lady Amanda giggled. “But I would have it no other way. And Dr. Handley assures us Phoebe and her mother is in fine fettle. Yet you did not journey here to trade pleasantries about the latest addition to our family, and I must confess I am intrigued. How might I be of service?”
“I know not where to begin.” Daphne accepted a cup of tea and resituated herself, as Lady Amanda perched to the right. “So much has happened in so little time, and I am at a loss to keep pace.”
“Perhaps you might start with the obvious question.” Lady Amanda inclined her head. “What has this to do with me?”
“Well, in truth, nothing directly.” Daphne gazed at the plush carpet and frowned. “I had hoped we could discuss the brooch and its predictive nature.”
“The brooch?” With an owlish expression, Lady Amanda dropped a napkin to her lap. “Ah, yes. Dalton relayed the events surrounding your initial meeting
and the temporary absence of my family heirloom.”
“I apologize for that.” Awash in shame, she slumped forward. “My youngest brother, Richard, took it from Dalton’s ship, so we could sell it for food.”
“A noble endeavor.” Then Lady Amanda’s countenance sobered. “You wore it.”
“I beg your pardon?” Daphne bit her tongue.
“Do not try to deny it.” The admiral’s wife scooted close. “What did it show you?”
Myriad repudiations flitted through her brain, as Daphne had not planned to reveal such intimate revelations. Then again, she had read Lady Amanda’s most private thoughts, so it was only fair to share. “A gold coin, tossing about in the air.”
“Upon my word.” Marked by a demeanor of utter shock, Lady Amanda gasped. “Dalton is your one true knight.”
“Do you believe so?”
“I do not doubt it for an instant.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I know, firsthand, the power of the artifact.” Lady Amanda averted her stare. “Although it has been years, I made use of it, after my sister loaned it to me, while my beloved Mark was at sea. Do you know what it imparted?”
“Yes, as Dalton allowed me to peruse the journal.” With trembling fingers, Daphne returned the cup and saucer to the tray. “I hope you are not offended when I say I found your entry quite romantic, but it was your certainty, regarding the lore, which brought me here. And I must know, do you accept the visions as irrefutable fact?”
“I do,” Lady Amanda responded with unshakeable conviction. Then she extended a hand. “Do you see the band I referenced?”
“‘Ego dilecto meo et dilectus meus mihi.’” Daphne twisted the simple gold ring. “It is lovely, but what does it mean?”
“I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” A tad misty-eyed, and with a ghost of a smile, Lady Amanda sighed. “Mark gifted it just prior to casting off, after my father denied my dashing sailor’s initial request to wed me, and never have I removed it, since. During our separation, which reigns as the most painful period of my life, as we were so in love, Olivia insisted I consult the brooch, in an effort to ascertain whether or not Mark was my one true knight.”
“But you dreamed of a captain’s insignia.” Daphne recalled the tender archive. “Did you ever vacillate?”
“Never.” The striking noblewoman lifted her chin. “As I had pledged my troth to my Mark, or I vowed I would die a spinster. When he surprised me at my father’s birthday celebration, gorgeous in his new regimentals, I was ecstatic.”
“So you think I should marry Dalton.” Daphne grasped at the slightest bit of optimism. “As the brooch must be correct.”
“I would not go that far, as you must decide, for yourself, what you want for your future, because it is an irrevocable commitment, once it is sworn at the altar.” For a while, Lady Amanda simply studied Daphne, and she shifted beneath the scrutiny. “But I would wager you know in your heart what you desire.”
“I love Dalton.” And so she declared her deepest secret, and it had not destroyed her, as she had feared it would. Instead, Daphne could not help but laugh, as the misery from the past five days seemed to evaporate, in a flash. “I love him, I do. I did so wish the coin was his, before I discovered it belonged to Dalton.”
“Then Dalton is your match, in every way. He is your one true knight.” Then Lady Amanda furrowed her brow and sank against the cushions. “I apologize, but I have been unwell, of late.”
“Oh, no.” Daphne provided assistance, as she collected Lady Amanda’s cup and brought it to her. “You should have cancelled our appointment, as I would have understood.”
“It hardly signifies.” She sipped her tea. “I have no idea what is wrong with me, as I am always tired, I often suffer dizzy spells, and my belly has been downright temperamental, especially in the morning.”
“It sounds as if you are pregnant.” Daphne chuckled.
“Oh, my goodness.” Peering left and then right, Lady Amanda’s mouth fell agape. Then she grabbed Daphne’s arm. “That had not occurred to me, until this very moment.”
“But—is it possible?” Given Lady Amanda’s advanced age, Daphne presumed the suggestion ridiculous.
“It is most definitely possible, yet I should summon Dr. Handley, tomorrow.” The noblewoman surrendered to a strange fit of mirth. “But it has been so long. Wait until I tell Mark.”
A knock at the door silenced the spontaneous celebration.
“Come.” The oak panel creaked, a bouquet of red roses appeared, as if from nowhere, and Lady Amanda pressed a finger to her lips. “Who is it?”
“Who do you think?” Sporting a charming pout, the admiral, a veritable mountain of a man and quite handsome, peered into the room. When he spotted Daphne, he started. “I say, thought you were alone, my Amanda.”
“I do so love it when you call me that, after all these years, my glorious Lieutenant Douglas.” Lady Amanda flicked her fingers, and her husband presented the spray of hothouse blossoms. Instead of accepting the elegant offering, she tugged her husband’s coat sleeve. “I want a kiss.”
“But you have company, darling.” Daphne swallowed a gurgle of laughter, as the admiral blushed.
“Miss Daphne is not company, she is to be family, and so the usual rules do not apply.” Lady Amanda yanked the admiral’s wrist. “A kiss—now.”
Planting a palm on the back of the sofa, at either side of his wife, the admiral bent and set his mouth to Lady Amanda’s. In deference to the devoted couple, Daphne pretended to find the ceiling infinitely fascinating.
“Are you feeling better, my Amanda?” the admiral inquired. “You looked a bit peaked this morning, and I am worried about you.”
“I am much improved, as you are home.” As she spoke, Lady Amanda’s voice grew almost husky, and Daphne fidgeted. “And I wonder if you might do something for me?”
“Anything, sweetheart.” The admiral rubbed his nose to his wife’s, and Daphne envied their ardent relationship. “As I am yours to command.”
“I like the sound of that.” Lady Amanda cooed. “If you would forgo your ritual visit to White’s, in favor of an early dinner in our sitting room, and have Ellie put the blooms in a vase atop our bedside table, I would thank you properly for the roses.”
“That is an offer I dare not refuse.” The admiral stood upright and straightened his coat. “I shall leave you ladies to your tea.”
“And I should go.” Daphne folded her napkin.
“But you have not explained your hesitancy, where Dalton is concerned, and I would not permit you to leave, when you remain perplexed.” Lady Amanda swiped a square of shortbread from a plate. “If you are familiar with the brooch’s mystical powers, what frightens you?”
“Two guests at the Richmond’s ball conveyed a dastardly deed I could never repeat, aloud.” Just recalling the licentious disclosure made Daphne shudder in disgust. “But it involved Dalton.”
“Could you whisper it to me?” Lady Amanda leaned near, and Daphne cupped her ear and recited the nefarious affair. “Upon my word. If Beth finds out, Dalton may not live to regret it.”
“Who is Beth?” she asked. “And what has she to do with Dalton?”
“The dowager viscountess of Wainsbrough and Dalton’s mother.” Lady Amanda snorted. “And she is a force with which to be reckoned, but you should fear not, as she will love you.”
“You do not seem scandalized by my report.” Daphne smoothed her skirts. “How would you have felt, had you heard a similar account of the admiral?”
“Well, if it had occurred after we met, we never would have married.” She folded her arms. “But I have no doubts where my husband’s fidelity is concerned, as he keeps me busy, in that department. However, prior to our acquaintance, I know he was no saint, as he made that clear. Yet I would not judge him, as society holds men to a different standard, in that respect. Had Mark remained chaste, his peers would have deemed him less a man. But women are pre
sented with a contrary set of edicts, which, if violated, can result in their ruin.”
“I am not sure I follow you.” Daphne rubbed the back of her neck.
“My dear, we live in a patriarchal society, where the right of primogeniture grants men exclusive reins of power and privilege, with one important exception.” She tapped her cheek. “While women are prohibited from inheriting titles, property, or fortunes, and the law classifies us as chattel, from birth to death, we are charged with the preservation of our chastity and, thereby, our reputation. In short, we are defined by our abstinence, whereas men are encouraged, even praised, in their naughty indulgences. Your only advantage is to marry someone who respects you, who views you as his equal—who loves you. Though I do not condone his rakish antics, the scandal with Dalton will run its course, and the ton will forgive and forget, because of his sex. I suspect he cares for you. The question is how much weight will you give something that happened before Dalton knew of your existence?”
“I understand.” And everything fell into place. Leaping to her feet, Daphne knew exactly what she would do, and she needed to depart, as she would not delay. “How can I ever thank you?”
“Make the most of every moment you have with him, as time flies, and it is never enough.” Together, they walked into the foyer. “Hamilton, send for Miss Daphne’s coach.”
“Yes, my lady.” The butler stepped onto the landing and signaled the driver.
“I wish you a pleasant evening, Lady Amanda.” Daphne shrugged into her pelisse and then tugged on her gloves. “And I will maintain your confidence, until you make the announcement, but I am so thrilled for you and the admiral.”
“You are a good omen, and I knew I could rely on you, which I must do, as I would share my glad tidings with Mark, exclusively, as our own treasured secret.” Lady Amanda hugged Daphne. “And if it makes you feel better, I believe you made the right decision.”
The Lucky One (Brethren Of The Coast #6) Page 15
