Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Daphne scurried down the stairs and into the front hall like a hare being chased by a hound. Instead of a hound, Delilah was close on her heels. Delilah had returned to the kitchens for more teacakes and then came back to find her cousin. After some additional negotiation on Daphne’s part that involved offering Delilah an even larger portion of her pin money and one of her favorite silken fans, Delilah had agreed to keep her mouth shut about everything she knew.

“I wonder if they’re still in the breakfast room?” Daphne peered into the corridor that led to that room.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Delilah nudged her shoulder.

Daphne straightened up and lifted her chin. Her cousin was right. If Rafe was still skulking about, she might as well confront him and get it over with. “Follow me.”

Delilah’s obvious look of delight was followed by a great deal of hand clapping.

“Stop that, you’re making a racket.”

Delilah sighed. “That is one of my specialties, Cousin Daphne.”

Daphne shook her head and motioned for her cousin to stay behind her. The two made their way down the corridor and into the breakfast room. All of the men present stood as soon as they walked into the room. Daphne scanned their faces. Rafe was there. She glared at him.

“Good morning, Lady Daphne,” Lord Fitzwell said with a bow. He was wearing a well-cut emerald-green coat and brown breeches and Hessians. Quite dapper.

She beamed at him. “Good morning, my lord.”

He sat back down and returned his attention to his paper. Daphne turned to her mother, pointedly ignoring Rafe for the moment. He continued to stand.

“Good morning, darling,” her mother said.

“Good morning, Aunt,” Delilah shot back.

“Delilah, I’ve already seen you this morning. Where did you put that plate of teacakes you left with? I do hope they aren’t under your bed like last time. We’ll get another mouse.”

Jane Upton looked up from her book, obviously interested in the fate of the teacakes.

“Oh no, Aunt,” Delilah said. “This time I left them in Cousin Daphne’s room. There would never be a mouse in Cousin Daphne’s room.”

“Lady Daphne wouldn’t stand for it,” Rafe said.

“What was that?” Daphne snapped her head to the side to look at him.

“Nothing.” Rafe gave her a tight smile.

Daphne frowned at him. Why did he always have to look so handsome? He was wearing a dark gray topcoat, silver waistcoat, and tight black breeches with top boots. The man knew how to fill out a pair of breeches, she thought wistfully as she caught a glimpse of his backside when he turned. She glanced over to where Lord Fitzwell sat, his face nearly buried in the newspaper. What did Lord Fitzwell’s backside look like? She’d never noted it.

“Come sit,” Mother offered, pulling out a chair near Lord Fitzwell. Mother addressed her remarks to the rest of the room. “I was thinking everyone could take a rest after breakfast and then we’ll meet in the drawing room for charades before lunch.”

“Oh, goody. Charades,” Sir Roderick Montague drawled from behind his newspaper across the table. He folded down one corner and rolled his eyes at Daphne. She gave him a warning glance.

“I quite enjoy charades,” Lord Fitzwell offered, setting down his paper. “Don’t you, Lady Daphne?”

But Daphne was staring at Rafe, who still had that godforsaken grin on his face. Daphne cleared her throat and answered Lord Fitzwell. “I’d very much like to discuss charades with you, my lord. But first I wondered if I might have a word with you, Captain.” She leveled her gaze on Rafe.

Rafe’s brow arched, but he flourished a hand in front of him as if allowing her to lead the way. “By all means.”

A few of the diners looked up to see them leave the room together. Delilah made as if to follow them. “Not you, Delilah,” Daphne said, pointing her cousin back toward the seating.

Delilah wrinkled her nose in a pout but flounced back over to the table where she grabbed another teacake from a new platter that had just been brought from the kitchens.

Keeping her head high, Daphne marched out of the breakfast room, down the short corridor, and into the drawing room. Rafe followed her.

As soon as the door was closed behind them she turned to him, her arms crossed over her chest. “Please tell me you intend to leave immediately after breakfast.”

“I do not,” he said simply.

Daphne’s face heated. She forced herself to count three. “What do you mean?”

He casually slid a hand into his pocket. “I mean I have no intention of leaving after breakfast or anytime today actually.”

Counting three wasn’t sufficient. She wanted to scream at him like a fishwife. She forced the words through her clenched teeth. “What about our agreement?”

“You mean the agreement in which you promised to give me a memorable kiss?”

More face heating. “Yes.”

“I daresay that momentous occasion, although admittedly well on its way to being memorable, was unfortunately interrupted.”

Daphne clenched her fists. “That was hardly my fault,” she snapped, though she was somewhat mollified that he agreed it was memorable.

“I didn’t say it was your fault. It’s simply a fact.”

“Are you mad? You’re going to use that as an excuse as to why you refuse to leave?”

“It’s not an excuse. I did leave. Last night. I’m back. I’ve also decided that the agreement was foolish. I need to keep an eye on you.”

“Keep an eye on me?” She fought the urge to stamp her foot. “In a house where my mother, brother, and sister-in-law reside? Truly?”

“They all seem to like this Fitzhorton chap. I don’t trust him.”

“And you’re the person to judge him? Not my family?” Daphne pressed a hand to her forehead. A headache was quickly forming behind her eyes. She was going mad. She could feel it. It was not possible that she was standing here having this absolutely infuriating conversation with this man. It defied logic.

“I’ve been trained, Daphne. I’ve seen quite a lot of human nature. Your brother is astute, no question, but he’s been trained for war, not for assessing the details in human behavior. Spying is a very different line of work.”

“Your arrogance astounds me. I cannot fathom how you think you’re the best person to judge someone with whom I should keep company.”

“I feel an obligation to your family.” He paused. “And to you.”

Daphne’s heart wrenched. That’s all she was to him. An obligation.

“So you refuse to leave?” she forced herself to ask.

“That’s right.”

She clenched her teeth and stomped past him. “Fine. But stay out of my way.”