Chapter Forty-one

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Back in Julian’s town house in Mayfair, Daphne sat on her bed turning the tiny replica of the True Love over and over in her hands. She traced the little mast with her fingertip, remembering how many knives she’d thrown near that towering piece of wood. She sighed. She’d been home for three days and it was raining, again.

She’d already told Delilah all the details she could in exchange for the girl’s silence. She’d even included the harrowing bit. She hadn’t told her all of the details, of course. She’d left out the part about Rafe nearly making love to her. It had been a feat, coming up with a believable story to tell Mother about why she had a large bruise across her cheek, but somehow she’d managed to convince her that she’d tripped down the stairs at Lucy Hunt’s country house and Lucy—that dear—had made a show of profusely apologizing for the clumsiness of her servants who had obviously polished the wood on the stairs with far too much aplomb.

Julian, however, had taken a bit of convincing. The moment he’d seen the bluish-black bruise, he’d been prepared to storm from the house to kill someone. It had taken both Daphne and Cass a considerable amount of time to convince him to sit down and breathe. Of course, Daphne hadn’t told him the truth of exactly how she’d got the bruise. No need to worry her brother further. The damage was already done. But she knew Julian suspected it had been more than an accident, as she’d informed him. Thankfully, once he realized she had no intention of telling him, he’d stopped asking questions. Apparently, a reputation for stubbornness was good for something.

Daphne stared out of the window into the dripping rain. The afternoon was so dull. Delilah had gone to take a nap. Mother had offered to play cards with her but Daphne had politely refused.

She wanted to practice throwing her knife. She found herself repeatedly touching her ankle to see if the knife was in her boot. She wasn’t wearing a boot and she certainly wasn’t carrying a knife. Not to mention her mother might have an apoplectic fit if she saw her daughter out in the gardens hurling knives at trees.

Daphne glanced down at her embroidered white day gown. Such a far cry from the shirt, breeches, and stockings she’d been wearing while pretending to be a cabin boy. She plucked at the top of her head where a useless ribbon sat holding up her bun. She missed her cap. She rubbed her silk stocking against her bedspread. Silk was certainly more luxurious than the wool stockings she’d worn as Grey. So why did she miss those, too?

Here she was. Back in her proper house, in her proper clothes, with her proper life. And it was all just too… boring. Why had she never noticed how exceedingly dull it was to live in a town house before? She meandered over to her writing desk and picked up her copy of The Adventures of Miss Calliope Cauldwell. She smiled to herself. Perhaps someday she would write a similar tale. If only Rafe had allowed her to go to France with him, the stubborn rogue.

A soft knock on the bedchamber door pulled Daphne from her thoughts. “Who is it?”

“It’s Cass, dear,” came her sister-in-law’s sweet voice.

“And Lucy,” added the duchess’s bright one.

Daphne laid the book back down, swiveled, rushed over to the door, and opened it. “Come in. Come in.” She ushered the two ladies into the room. They made their way over to the windows and sat in the two chairs that rested there.

“We came to check on you, dear,” Cass explained, once she was settled. “How are you?”

Daphne resumed her seat on the bed and clutched the tiny ship in her fist. She sighed. “I’m… fine.”

Lucy scrunched up her nose. “You don’t sound fine.”

Daphne put the back of her hand to her head as if checking for fever. “I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I do,” Lucy replied with a knowing smile and a twinkle in her two-different-colored eyes.

“You do? What is it?” Daphne sat forward on the bed and blinked expectantly at Lucy.

Lucy splayed her hands wide. “You’re in love, dear. You’re exhibiting the classic symptoms. Restlessness, fatigue, boredom. And I’d wager you’ve not spent so much as a moment without Captain Cavendish in your thoughts since you’ve got home, have you?”

Daphne’s cheeks heated. She moved her hand down to press on one of them. How had Lucy known? She glanced at the replica. Suddenly, she had the desire to hide it. “Well, I—”

“And that little ship in your hand speaks volumes,” Lucy added with another nod.

Daphne’s jaw dropped. “How did you see—”

Cass tapped her fingertips along the arms of the chair. “I must agree with Lucy, dear. I was madly in love for years with someone I couldn’t have. I know the signs when I see them.”

Daphne shook her head so vigorously her bun came loose. “I’m not madly in love with him. I’m not.”

Lucy’s smile was scandalous. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you, perhaps, just a little in love with him?”

Daphne set the replica on her bedside table. She stood and paced to the windows, standing in between the two chairs. “Very well,” she conceded. “Perhaps. Just a little.” Daphne whirled to face them and pressed her palms to both cheeks. “This is awful, isn’t it?”

Cass and Lucy exchanged satisfied looks.

“Not awful at all, dear. It’s wonderful.” Cass reached up to squeeze Daphne’s hand.

Daphne plopped down on the window seat and gave Cass her hand. “But it’s not that easy. What about the blond doxy?”

Lucy cleared her throat. “Yes, about that. I hope you don’t mind but Cass recounted that particular tale to me, and I have to say, I don’t think it makes much sense.”

Daphne’s head snapped to face the duchess. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why in the world would Captain Cavendish have been downstairs looking for you if he had a blond waiting for him in his bed? And why didn’t he lock the door between the two rooms to keep you from finding her?”

Daphne’s heart hammered in her throat. “But she was in his bed and—”

“And what?”

“You didn’t actually see them touching, did you?” Lucy asked.

“No.” Daphne’s voice trailed off.

Cass winced and returned her hand to her own lap. “I have to say when I first heard it, it sounded quite condemning, but upon further reflection, I agree with Lucy. I can’t say I’d believe that Captain Cavendish would take a woman to his bed with you in the room right next door, Daphne. It’s beyond the pale even for a rogue.”

Daphne shook her head. She didn’t know what made any sense anymore but there was more than one reason she and Rafe couldn’t be together. She said the only thing she could think of at the moment. “But Rafe’s refused to allow me to go to France with him.”

“Daphne, be reasonable,” Cass replied. “That trip is far too dangerous for you. Captain Cavendish couldn’t have asked Julian for such a favor. Even if he wanted to.”

“Why not?” Daphne asked. But she already knew the answer and knew she was acting like a pouting child for asking.

“If it makes you feel any better, I can assure you Julian wouldn’t have said yes,” Cass added.

Daphne braced her palms on either side of her thighs on the cushion. She stared down at her slippers, dejected. “Has Rafe left yet? Do you know?”

Lucy’s eyes twinkled. “Derek says he leaves for France in two days.”

“Yes, and he’s commissioned Jane to write a letter for him. But I can’t say any more than that. I’m sworn to secrecy,” Cass added.

Daphne pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Why do I have this awful feeling that I’m never going to see him again?” She moved her hands down to her belly. “I feel sick.”

Cass leaned over, put her hand on Daphne’s forehead, and patted it softly. “You’re in love, dear. We all feel as if we’re going to be sick when we’re in love.”

“Oh, Cass, what am I to do?” Daphne asked, taking a deep breath.

“You can never go wrong if you’re honest and follow your heart,” Cass said, with a knowing smile. “Isn’t that what you always told me, Lucy?”

Lucy pushed a bouncy black curl away from her forehead. “Yes, it is, but in this particular instance I believe more drastic action needs to be taken.”

Daphne blinked and looked at Lucy. “Like what?”

“In this case, follow your heart means bring your gentleman up to scratch.” Lucy punctuated the last word with a firm stamp on the floor.

A thrill shot through Daphne’s chest. Did Lucy truly mean what she thought she meant? “Bring my gentleman up to scratch?”

Lucy gave her a resolute nod. “This is no time to be a shrinking violet. If you want Captain Cavendish, you’re going to have to fight for him. You’re the one who’s told him you intend to marry a man from your list. He has no reason to believe you even want to see him again. Did you tell him you do?”

Daphne blinked. Panic rose like a rogue wave in her chest. “No. I didn’t tell him. He was so adamant about not taking me to France with him. I thought it was clear that things were over between us.”

Lucy folded her arms over her chest and shook her head. “But if you didn’t tell him you wanted to see him again, why would he have any reason to think anything else?”

Daphne’s stomach lurched. Her words from the other night came back to haunt her. He’d asked her what sort of men were on her list. “Titled, rich, handsome, loyal,” she’d replied.

“So, it’s safe to say I’m not on your list” had been his response.

She could kick herself now. Lucy was completely right. Why would Rafe think Daphne wanted anything more to do with him? All she’d ever asked of him was the annulment.

She turned frantically to Cass and searched her sister-in-law’s face. “Cass, what do you think?”

Cass bit her lip and glanced away. “Of course I’d never tell you to do anything that would be unladylike or put you in danger.”

“Please tell me, Cass,” Daphne begged. “Truly. What do you think I should do?”

Cass met Daphne’s gaze then. “I happen to remember a girl who tried to climb out of a window once and I do wonder where that girl is now.”

Another thrill shot through Daphne’s chest. Lucy was right and so was Cass. Despite the blond and the difference in Daphne’s and Rafe’s social standing and everything, Daphne couldn’t let Rafe leave without at least trying to tell him that she loved him. She had to go to him.

She allowed a wide grin to spread across her face. “Where is he now?”

Lucy jumped up and clapped her hands. “That’s the spirit! Be bold!”