Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

Daphne turned to Delilah who still sat on the bed, now with a catlike smile pinned to her gamine little face. “Why didn’t you tell your mother that Captain Cavendish sent you that gift?” Delilah asked as soon as Mama had left the room. “Why did you hide it?”

“It’s quite a long story and one I don’t have time to explain, now—”

“Oh, pleeease tell me, Cousin Daphne. I do so j’adore a good mystery.”

“If you enjoy a mystery, then my telling you will rob you of the pleasure of solving it. And I hate to mention it, but I don’t think you’re using j’adore correctly in all instances.”

Delilah tapped her cheek. “I am still learning French, cousin. And you are right about the mystery. Very well. I shall settle for a hint. A good one, if you please.”

Daphne couldn’t help but shake her head and smile. “No, Delilah, not now. It’s something complicated that only adults should discuss.”

“I cannot wait to be an adult. You get to hear all the best gossip.”

Daphne stared at her reflection in the looking glass. “As I said, Delilah, don’t be too quick to want to grow up.”

“But I want to grow up. I want to have adventures like Calliope Cauldwell. I want to have handsome gentlemen send me gifts even if they are odd ones like tiny wooden ships. Though I am certain I would prefer jewelry.” Delilah fell back onto the bed with her hand on her forehead again. “Oh, I wish something would happen. Nothing ever possibly in the least ever happens around here.”

Daphne turned to her cousin and put both fists to her hips. “Don’t be so dramatic, Delilah. Adventures can be quite dangerous. In more ways than one. And as for something happening around here, you don’t find an engagement party to be exciting?”

Delilah sat back up and braced both hands behind her on the quilt. “I suppose an engagement party is a start, but I’d like there to be something truly exciting.”

“Like what?”

“Like a plot, or a mésalliance, or a scandal!”

“Fiddle. Think what you’re saying. We don’t live in the middle of The Adventures of Miss Calliope Cauldwell . True life is much less exciting, I assure you. I am going to marry Lord Fitzwell and that is far from a mésalliance .”

Another sigh from Delilah. “More’s the pity.”

“Delilah Montbank, think about yourself.”

“I shall endeavor to, Cousin Daphne. But I don’t hold out much hope for reforming myself. I believe I’m quite a lost cause.” The gamine smile popped back to Delilah’s lips. “Now, are you going to go downstairs and see Captain Cavendish? Thank him for his gift?” The girl’s dark eyebrows waggled.

Daphne twisted her finger and pointedly ignored the eyebrow waggling. “I suppose I must.”

“I suggest you take your time making your way down to the green drawing room,” Delilah said.

“Why?” Daphne furrowed her brow.

“You should keep a man waiting. They positively j’adore it. Though they’d never admit it.”

“Delilah Montbank! Who told you that nonsense?”

Delilah fluttered a small hand in the air with practiced nonchalance. “Oh, Cousin Daphne, everyone knows you should keep a man waiting.”

“Everyone, you say?” Daphne eyed the girl warily. Just how much did her scamp of a cousin know about Daphne’s love life?

Delilah cleared her throat. “Next, you should peer into the looking glass and ensure you have color in your cheeks.”

Daphne narrowed her eyes on her cousin. “I don’t even want to know how you know about such things.”

“Do it,” Delilah ordered, pointing toward the looking glass.

Daphne reluctantly turned toward the glass and did as she was told. Her cheeks pinkened immediately.

“I’m told a stiff bit of liquor helps if you can’t manage enough pink with the pinching. But it looks as if you’ve succeeded.” Delilah clapped her hands.

“Good heavens, Delilah. How do you know anything about drinking?”

Delilah shrugged. “I heard the vicar talking about it.”

“Why, the very idea…”

“It’s quite all right,” Delilah said with a sigh. “Just the pinching will do.”

Daphne took a deep breath and looked in the mirror, studying her reflection. “Captain Cavendish told me I was beautiful once.”

Delilah’s smile widened. Daphne could see the girl’s face behind her in the mirror. “What I wouldn’t give for someone as handsome as Captain Cavendish to tell me I am beautiful.”

“You are lovely, Delilah. You’ll have a string of suitors after you when you come of age. I have never thought of myself that way, though. I suppose I am passably pretty.”

“You are , Cousin Daphne, so pretty. Why, quite one of the prettiest young ladies in town, I should say.”

Daphne frowned at her reflection. “No doubt that scoundrel Cavendish only said it as part of the other pack of lies he fed me.”

“He could feed me an entire plateful of lies, as long as he did it with that roguish smile of his on his face.” Delilah sighed. “What sort of lies did he tell you, Cousin Daphne?”

“Consider that more of the mystery, Delilah. And I needn’t tell you that Mother’s not to hear a word about any of this.”

“I may be young, but I can keep a secret. Besides, you’re not likely to tell me more if I go spouting off about what I already know, are you?”

“You make a good point.” Daphne continued to stare into the looking glass. “I wonder if Lord Fitzwell thinks I’m pretty. He’s never said so.”

Delilah wrinkled her nose. “Lord Fitzwell doesn’t say much that isn’t about Lord Fitzwell.”

“Oh, Delilah. Lord Fitzwell is perfectly respectable. He’s handsome, eligible, and titled.”

“And more interested in your family lineage than your beauty, Cousin Daphne. Not to mention a dead bore.”

Daphne turned to face the girl and waved a finger at her. “He is far from boring. And as for him being interested in my lineage, gentlemen like Lord Fitzwell take a wife to secure a better place in Society and gain riches through her dowry. I’m interested in his lineage, too, you know.”

Delilah’s nose remained wrinkled. “Sounds entirely unromantic. I could not j’adore a man who was only interested in my family’s ranking in DeBrett’s Peerage. ”

Daphne shook her head. “Just wait until you’re my age.”

“I cannot wait. That’s what I’ve been telling you. It’s going to be a sheer lifetime before I’m old enough to go to balls and dance with handsome gentlemen. And I don’t care what you say about Lord Fitzwell. I much prefer Captain Cavendish.”

Daphne pressed her palm to her belly. She needed to get downstairs and confront Rafe. She’d been using this discussion with Delilah to calm her nerves and afford her time. But the reckoning would be upon her soon. “Captain Cavendish couldn’t be more unlike Lord Fitzwell if he tried. He’s not a bit interested in lineage or money or anything of the sort. He’s a mere captain in His Majesty’s army.”

And a spy. But she wasn’t about to admit that to Delilah. The girl already knew far too much.

No, Rafe hadn’t wanted her for lineage or money.

“He may have no title to speak of, but he couldn’t be more handsome,” Delilah replied.

Daphne gritted her teeth. She couldn’t argue with Delilah there, but she’d learned her lesson when it came to Rafe Cavendish. Daphne had married him last year. A grievous mistake and one that needed to be rectified posthaste. At the time, she’d been under the mistaken impression that he had some feeling for her. She’d thought their marriage could be more than a business arrangement set up for the Crown. Rafe had insisted on the marriage, hadn’t he? Fine. The mission may have been a part of his assignment for the War Office. But Rafe had been the one to insist that he would not allow her to accompany him unless they were man and wife. And Daphne had seen her chance. Not just her chance to marry the man she’d longed for for years, but also a chance to prove herself a benefit to the war cause. Both her brothers, Donald and Julian, had served. Julian had nearly died fighting Napoleon at Waterloo and Donald had given the ultimate sacrifice when he’d left for an assignment in France, accompanied by Rafe. Daphne wanted to prove that though she might be a female, she, too, could be of service to her country. Like all the Swifts before her.

Daphne shook her head. She was not one to dwell on the past. She’d made her mistakes and she had a plan to fix them. Mama must never find out, nor Lord Fitzwell, of course. She’d thought she’d made that clear to Rafe. God knew why he was paying her a call on the eve of her engagement party. She took a deep breath. There was only one way to find out.

***

By the time Daphne strolled into the drawing room, she just so happened to be wearing her favorite pink gown. She just so happened to have her hair pulled up in her favorite fetching chignon, and she just so happened to have a bit of pink in her cheeks caused by more of Delilah’s recommended pinching.

Feeling quite confident, she pushed open the doors to the room and sashayed her way inside. Rafe immediately stood.

Seeing him was like a punch to the stomach. Not that she’d ever been punched in the stomach, but this was no time for mental quibbling. The man was too handsome by half. No, more than half. Twenty-seven years old and fit as a fox. He had bright blue eyes, shortly cropped, dark blond hair, a strong brow, and a cleft in his chin that had always driven her mad. She concentrated on making her way toward him and taking a seat in front of the fireplace in a rosewood chair that sat at right angles to the one in which Rafe had sat.

“Captain Cavendish,” she intoned in her most affected, haughty voice. She stared at the mantelpiece above his head so she wouldn’t be distracted by his face.

He bowed to her. “Lady Daphne.”

“You’re calling me Lady Daphne now?” she replied with a tight smile.

“It’s only proper when I’ve come to call at your town house, is it not? Would you rather I call you Grey?” His voice was strong, sure, always tinged with the smallest bit of charming arrogance. Blast him.

“No! No.” Blast. Her voice had been too high. She made herself count three. “Lady Daphne is quite preferable, thank you.”

Besides, what did it matter if he called her Lady Daphne? The formality was fitting, actually. She shrugged one shoulder and then cursed herself for the unladylike gesture. Not that Rafe had ever cared how ladylike she was. Quite the contrary, he’d seemed to revel in the fact that she’d been game enough to wear breeches and pretend she was a boy last year when they’d worked together. There went her wayward thoughts again. Must concentrate on the matter at hand. Namely, making Captain Rafferty Cavendish rue the day he’d informed her their marriage would be annulled.

She took a deep breath. “I do hope you weren’t planning to stay long, Captain. I’m quite busy today. Planning for my engagement , you know. The party is this weekend and it’s quite large.” She said the word “engagement” as if she was chewing glass between her teeth. And what did it matter if she was telling a white lie? Rafe had obviously heard the rumors that her engagement was imminent, or he wouldn’t have sent her that confounded ship.

Rafe arched a brow at her. “That’s why I’ve come.”

“For my party? I don’t recall sending you an invitation.” More glass between her teeth.

“Your brother invited me, actually, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m here specifically to speak with you.”

“About?” She feigned interest in the crystal vase that stood atop the small rosewood table next to her chair, drawing her fingertip along its base.

“You really don’t know?” His voice dripped with skepticism.

She directed her gaze back at him and gave him a you-can’t-affect-me smile. “Know what?”

“That you shouldn’t be planning an engagement given the fact that you are married to me.”