Chapter Twenty-four

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Rafe rapped on the back door to the Swifdon house. He’d maneuvered his mount through the streets, around the mews, and through the alley behind the Earl of Swifdon’s Mayfair residence. No one would see Lady Daphne Swift leaving the house dressed as a boy.

He’d left last night soon after Claringdon had escorted Daphne back inside. First, he’d found Swifdon in his study and informed him that his little sister was very much the worse for drink. He’d told Swifdon that he believed Lucy Hunt was ensuring that Daphne got tucked into bed without her mother being any the wiser. Swifdon had thanked him for his discretion, asked to speak with Lord Fitzwell privately, and told Rafe that he would send him a letter in the morning informing him of Daphne’s condition. Apparently, Swifdon knew of a concoction that was said to quickly cure a sick head. Good thing, because worse for drink or not, Rafe still desperately needed Daphne’s help.

Later, Rafe had watched with an unabashed smile on his face as Lord Fitzwell ordered his coach and left the Swifts’ house, jamming his hat atop his head, and ripping his coat from Pengree’s grasp.

Then, Rafe had left. He’d returned to his rooms in a less fashionable part of town. He’d been relieved, actually, when Swifdon’s letter had arrived this morning saying that Daphne had made a full recovery thanks to the concoction and was intent upon fulfilling her promise. Rafe had been a bit too relieved, perhaps. He’d expected Daphne to be angry with him, perhaps use her failed engagement as an excuse to back out of their agreement. He’d been wrong about her.

The back door swung open and Pengree was there. Clearly, the butler had been expecting him. “Captain Cavendish. Lord Swifdon wishes to see you.”

Rafe followed the butler through the back of the house, up a small staircase, and through a series of corridors until they came to the familiar space in front of the doors that led to Swifdon’s study.

Swifdon stood as soon as Rafe was announced. He moved to the sideboard and made Rafe a stiff drink. He turned and thrust it in Rafe’s hand. “Down it. You’ll need it.”

Rafe accepted the glass with a smile and a nod. “For the mission?”

“No, for dealing with Daphne” was Swifdon’s reply.

Rafe snorted. “I’m glad to hear she’s feeling better. She was three sheets to the wind when I left.”

“Yes, Cass tells me she was a bit green this morning.”

Rafe set the drink aside. “I can only imagine. I’m pleased to hear that she’s agreed to go through with it.”

“Daphne is one of the most noble people I know. She’s dreamed her whole life of being of use to the war effort. Now the wars are over, of course, but this is exactly the type of thing I’d never be able to talk her out of.”

“I understand, my lord.”

If Swifdon thought it odd that Rafe wasn’t drinking, he didn’t indicate it. Swifdon tossed his own bit of brandy to the back of his throat. “I trust Daphne and I trust you, but I don’t need to remind you what will happen to you if she is harmed.”

“No.” Rafe folded his hands behind his back and bowed. “Her life will be more important than my own.”

“I’ve no doubt.” Swifdon nodded. “Now, for a few specifics. Cass has taken Mother to the opera tonight to get her out of the house so she won’t see Daphne leave. Mother thinks Daphne is going to Lucy Hunt’s country house for several days to get over her disappointment about Fitzwell.”

“Is she? Disappointed about Fitzwell, I mean?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Rafe silently cursed himself for asking them.

Swifdon grinned at him. “That’s a question for Daphne.” He rang for Pengree again. The butler appeared soon after. “Please ask Lady Daphne to join us.”

The servant nodded and left the room.

Rafe lifted his brows.

“I have a similar warning for Daphne,” Swifdon explained.

When Daphne entered the room moments later, Rafe sucked in his breath again but for an entirely different reason this time. She was wearing tight buff buckskin breeches that outlined every curve of her sweet backside, a plain, serviceable white shirt with a tight waistcoat that was obviously hiding the fact that she had breasts, however bound they might be. She wore small black top boots and her hair was coiled tight atop her head and hidden underneath a cap that completed her attire.

It was standard dock clothing, but no cabin boy could make it look as good as Daphne did. Anyone else would only see a slight boy but Rafe knew better. Her tiny waist accentuated, her glorious backside highlighted. Rafe glanced away before his own breeches tightened. For his part, he was dressed like a ruffian ship’s captain. A white shirt, dark gray breeches, black boots, and a navy-colored coat, white cravat, and a tricorn.

Daphne gave him a once-over. He had to struggle to keep from doing the same to her… again.

“Captain,” she said simply, barely allowing her lips to part. They quickly resumed their thin line.

“Grey.” He nodded at her.

“I’d offer you a drink, too, Daphne, but something tells me you’d turn it down tonight,” Swifdon said.

Daphne pressed her hand to her middle. “Ugh. I can barely countenance even seeing that vile liquid.”

“I understand,” Swifdon said to his sister. “Now, listen to me.”

She quickly turned her head toward her brother. Her face took on a serious demeanor.

“I know you’ve been angry with Cavendish, but emotions can get you killed in situations like this. You and Rafe must treat each other like cohorts. Your life may well depend on it.”

Daphne nodded once. “There is nothing emotional about this. I am entirely prepared to be nothing but proficient and do my duty.” She lifted her chin, her face reflecting her pride. “For the Crown.”

Rafe nearly let out a sigh of relief. He trusted this about Daphne. She wanted to find the men who killed Donald as much as he did and she would do what she must regardless of what had happened between them over the last two days.

“You can do this, Daphne,” Swifdon said. “I have no doubt. I would not allow you to go if I thought you were in danger. Cavendish will keep you safe.”

“I will keep myself safe,” Daphne replied, her face blank and determined. “Don’t worry for me, Julian.” She stepped forward and hugged her brother tightly. “I love you.”

Still hugging her, Swifdon said, “I love you, too, Daphne.”

She let go of her brother, cleared her throat, and turned to Rafe, obviously shaking off the tears that had threatened to spill from her eyes. “Shall we?” The tears had been quickly replaced by a glint of steel that told him she’d completely shut him out of her emotions. Good. It was better this way. They needed to treat each other like nothing more than two spies on a mission working for the greater good of the country.

He nodded once. “Let’s go.”

“Be safe, both of you,” Swifdon said.

Rafe and Daphne nodded.

Rafe held open the door and Daphne made her way through it, not acknowledging him. He followed her down the corridor, the steps, and toward the back door.

“Cousin Daphne!”

Daphne turned at the childlike female voice that came from behind them. “Delilah? What are you doing out of bed? You shouldn’t be down here.”

“I couldn’t allow you to leave without saying good-bye.” Delilah shook her head. “I mean, good luck. You’ll be a hero, Daphne. I know it.”

Daphne smiled at that. She squeezed the child’s shoulder. “Take care of Mother for me, Dee. And Cass and Julian.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Just don’t let Julian know you’re taking care of him.”

Delilah nodded and her dark curls bounced. “Consider it done. And please come back with many harrowing stories. J’adore a harrowing story.”

Daphne shook her head. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Oh, Captain Cavendish,” came Delilah’s sweet voice.

Rafe turned back to look at the girl. “Yes?”

“I do hope you’ll be a gentleman while in the company of my cousin.”

Rafe struggled to keep the smile from his face. “Of course, Miss Montbank. I give you my word.”

“But not too much of a gentleman.” And with that, Delilah was gone.