When Only a Rake Will Do (6 page)

It was Hughes.

“Yes?”

“You have a visitor, my lady.”

“A visitor?  For me?”  It was long past the time of day for social calls and she certainly wasn’t expecting anyone. 

“Yes, my lady, the Earl of Blackburn is here to see you.”

Daphne frowned.  “Did you inform him that my brother isn’t at home?”

“I did, my lady.  However, his lordship is insistent upon speaking with you,” he replied with a slight frown and a distinctly disapproving tone.

“I see,” she said, rising from her chair.  Drat, the last thing she wanted was to spend a single moment alone in the earl’s company, but she dare not send him away.  She had to think fast. “Is my sister still in the garden with Miss Felton?” she asked. Miss Felton was Charlotte’s art instructor and the two often spent their time together in the rear garden sketching and painting the various flora and fauna.

“She is,” Hughes affirmed.

“Alright then, if you would have Lord Blackburn shown to the rear terrace I shall be along momentarily.” 

Looking discernibly relieved at her choice of venue, Hughes promptly left the room to do her bidding.

Drawing a long, deep breath, Daphne steeled herself to face to the earl.

When she stepped out onto the terrace a few minutes later, she found Lord Blackburn seated at one of the small wrought iron tables scattered about, a cup of tea and a small platter of Cook’s appetizing confections before him.  Clearly he’d been offered refreshments, and noting the half-empty plate she could see that he had already ingested a goodly portion of the delectable sweets. 

“Good afternoon, my lord.  Hughes informed me that you wished to speak with me,” Daphne said as she approached the table.  Thankfully Charlotte and Miss Felton were still seated upon a lawn blanket not too far away, clearly visible from the terrace as they continued with their drawings.

“Ah yes.  Come, my dear, and join me,” the earl said as he pushed himself away from the table, brushing a few wayward crumbs from his jacket as he rose to greet her. 

Struggling to keep her aversion from showing on her face, Daphne waited as Blackburn moved around the small table to pull out her chair.

“Here you are,” he said, allowing his meaty fingers to brush along the exposed portion of her upper arm as she settled onto the chair.

“Thank you,” she murmured, suppressing the shudder of revulsion she felt at his touch.

With a self-satisfied smile, Blackburn pulled back his hand and then moved around to the opposite side of the table and resumed his seat.

“Tea?” he asked, motioning to the porcelain teapot and the empty cup and saucer that sat on the table between them.

“No, thank you.” 
What on earth did he want?
she wondered apprehensively.

Sitting back, Blackburn regarded her beneath hooded lids.  “You seem nervous, my dear.  Is something troubling you?”

“Do I?”  Though Daphne made an effort to appear composed, the sinking feeling she felt in the pit of her belly made it difficult.  “Perhaps it is simply that I wasn’t expecting you, my lord.  Thus I wasn’t able to make myself as presentable as I would have liked,” she lied, appealing intuitively to the earl’s ego as she touched her hand lightly to her hair in a deliberately self-conscious gesture.

The earl’s expression brightened at once.  “Nonsense, you look fetching as always, my dear,” he proclaimed, eyeing her covetously as he studied her appearance.

“You’re too kind, my lord,” Daphne replied, forcing a demure smile to her lips.  “So, was there something in particular you wished to speak with me about?”

“Indeed,” he said.  Reaching forward he grabbed another iced petit four from the tray and placed it onto his plate. “With the initial success you’ve had, I have been thinking that perhaps we needn’t wait until the end of the Season to announce our engagement after all.”  Smiling, he lifted the tiny cake from his plate and popped it into his mouth.

No, no, please no!
  Daphne swallowed, fighting against the sudden tightening of her throat.  “I see,” she managed.

Blackburn’s eyes narrowed as he studied her expression.  “That meets with your approval, I trust?”

No, it most certainly did not meet with her approval!  She wasn’t ready.  She was supposed to have until the end of the Season. 
“Yes, of course, my lord.  Whatever you think is best,” she replied in a surprisingly even tone.

“Precisely,” he replied smugly, an arrogant expression upon his ruddy face, “though I have yet to make a definitive decision.”

Was he serious or was he merely toying with her, she wondered?  He knew she didn’t want to marry him; that she never would have agreed to the match if she’d had any other option, he wasn’t a fool.  Nonetheless, if he
was
serious she needed to convince him to wait.  And that is was
his
decision, and not hers.  But how? 
Think Daphne, think. 
Intuitively, she understood that the earl was motivated by more than the simple desire to inflate his own sense of self-importance by besting her would-be suitors.  No, it was more than that, for despite his title and wealth, she knew that Edward Duntton, along with his first wife, a meek, unassuming woman, had never been well-received within the
ton’s
inner circles.  And if she didn’t miss her guess, the earl desperately wanted to be fully accepted into the aristocracy’s midst and was counting on the success of her debut to help get him there.  That is what she needed to turn his focus toward. 

“I must admit that my debut has been far more successful than I would have ever imagined,” Daphne began, her expression self-deprecating.   “However, I can only hope that these past weeks have been enough to
sustain
that initial success.  For as we both know, the
ton
is often quick to turn its attentions elsewhere once an individual’s novelty has worn off,” she said apprehensively, her brow wrinkling in concern.  “Thus, I suppose it is most fortunate that I received my invitation from the Duke and Duchess of Sethe when I did,” she continued, biting down nervously upon her lower lip, “for it is entirely possible that the offer would not have been extended if I was not at the height of my newfound popularity.”

Blackburn wasn’t stupid, but as she’d hoped the mention of the Duke and Duchess of Sethe was more than enough to give him pause.  “You received an invitation from the Leightons?” he asked, his expression incredulous.

She nodded.  “Thomas and I have been invited to attend a dinner party at their London residence.”

“A dinner party.”  The earl’s eyes went wide.  “By God,” he uttered, “that’s extraordinary!”

Daphne schooled her features into an unreadable mask.  “Yes, well, in lieu of your decision regarding the announcement of our engagement, the timing is rather fortuitous.” 

If he wanted to achieve the status he so desperately craved, they both knew that it was up to her to not only garner the
ton’s
favor, but more importantly, to secure lasting connections with those who moved within its highest ranks.  An invitation from the Leighton’s was a significant accomplishment, but it certainly didn’t
guarantee
her long-term success. 

Watching him from across the table she could tell that Blackburn’s thoughts were suddenly spinning, just as she hoped. In any event, she’d done her best.  Now all she could do was to wait and see if it was enough.

As soon as the earl had taken his leave Daphne escaped to her bedchamber, locking the door behind her.  Then, walking over to her bed she dropped down onto the velvet coverlet with a heavy sigh.  “Bloody hell,” she muttered aloud, voicing the obscenity she’d heard her brother use on more than one occasion, most often when he was into his cups.  What was she going to do now?  What could she do?  She’d given the earl something to think about, but what if she hadn’t fully convinced him that it was in his best interest to wait to announce their engagement until the end of the Season, as he had initially proposed?  If not, if he chose to move ahead, he could make the announcement, have the banns posted and the ceremony scheduled to take place all within a matter of weeks, she thought morosely. 

Even knowing that to wait would merely be postponing the inevitable, she didn’t care; she wasn’t ready.  She needed more time, she
wanted
more time; she wanted every last second.  But what else could she possibly do?  Woefully she realized that there was little else she
could
do.  Thanks to her brother’s actions, she had absolutely no control over her own future. It was in Blackburn’s hands now.  The reality of it was both demoralizing and infuriating at the same time. 

Closing her eyes she recalled with sickening clarity the feel of the earl’s fingers as they’d trailed along her arm, cringing at the memory, for even that brief contact had nearly caused her to cast up her accounts.  How would she ever bear being forced to lie beneath his cumbrous bulk night after night as he exercised his husbandly rights upon her body?  Dear God, it was almost too horrible to contemplate.

No more!  Think of something else, she ordered herself, anything else.  Think of something pleasant.  With her eyes still closed, she scooted backwards until she lay flat across the bed, unmindful that she was wrinkling her gown or mussing her hair. 
Something pleasant, something pleasant
, she repeated silently, and then there it was. Brendon Leighton’s handsome visage appeared behind her eyes like a saving grace.  Oh yes, that was definitely pleasant she thought as she forcibly cast the earl from her mind’s eye.  And suddenly, despite the utter imprudence of it, she couldn’t help wondering what her reaction might have been if it had been Brendon’s fingers that had caressed her arm, rather than the earl’s. 

As the mere thought of it caused a delicious tingle to race along her spine there was little question as to what her answer would be; she would have welcomed his touch, that and so much more.  But even as she scolded herself for thinking such wanton thoughts, a part of her rebelled.  For years she had dreamt of falling in love, of spending her life with a man whose touch she would long for, a man who would ignite her hidden desires and teach her the true meaning of passion, a man like Brendon Leighton, the man who continued to haunt her dreams night after night.  And though she knew that those dreams would never come true, it wasn’t easy to cast them aside, for her heart still yearned for a romantic tale of her own, a tale that would rival those epic love stories of times gone by.  But alas she needed to let them go she told herself for the hundredth time, she had to let them go. 

Or did she?
 

Even as the ill-considered idea began to unfurl within her mind, she scrunched her eyes more tightly shut, struggling to disregard the wayward thought. 

But what if…
  

No, it was absurd, it was outrageous; it was downright scandalous and completely immoral to even think such a thing. Opening her eyes she sat upright and raising her hands pressed them to her cheeks.  Surely she must be mad to even contemplate such folly.  But of course she wasn’t mad, not truly.  So why then couldn’t she seem to get the preposterous notion out of her head?  Yet even as she asked the question, she feared that she already knew the answer.  It was because, despite the reality in which she lived, she still wanted the fairytale, or a goodly portion of it at the very least. 

But did she dare?
  Did she have the courage to take control of her future, if only a small piece of it?

Nearly a week had passed since the Earl of Blackburn’s unexpected visit and Daphne remained on pins and needles wondering if he would go through with his plan to announce their engagement prior to the Season’s end.  Having heard nothing from him since that disquieting afternoon, she could only hope that he had reconsidered.  But regardless of his decision, she had made a decision of her own.  Now, she had only to act upon it.  And tonight, granted the opportunity presented itself, she intended to do just that.

“There we are, my lady, all finished,” Sarah, her lady’s maid, said as she tucked the final pin into Daphne’s stylish coiffure.

Pulled from her musings, Daphne blinked and refocused her gaze upon the mirror in front of her, dutifully surveying the young maid’s handiwork.  “You’ve done a beautiful job, Sarah, thank you,” she said, smiling graciously as she admired the elaborate profusion of blonde curls piled artfully atop her head and the few loose tendrils spilling down to the back of her neck.

Sarah beamed at the compliment.

“Now, what do you think?” Daphne asked, studying her reflection and the off the shoulder cut of her ivory-colored, watered silk gown. “Should I wear the emerald brooch at my shoulder or would the pearl choker look best?”

“Hmm,” Sarah considered, cocking her head to the side as she surveyed Daphne’s appearance.  “Either would be lovely, my lady, but I think perhaps the brooch,” she decided.

“Yes, I think you’re right,” Daphne agreed with a smile.  “Would you fetch it for me, please?”

Sarah nodded and quickly made her way to the armoire and the jewelry case that rested inside.  Opening the case’s wooden lid, Sarah searched the contents and then turned to Daphne with a look of uncertainty.  “My lady, the brooch…it isn’t here.” 

Her brows drawing together in confusion, Daphne rose and crossed the room to where Sarah stood.  Looking into the beautifully carved cherry-inlaid jewelry box that she had inherited from her mother, she quickly scanned the pieces that lay within, all neatly arranged atop the red velvet lining. Sarah was right.  The diamond and emerald brooch, one of her mother’s and now one of
her
most-prized possessions, was missing.

“Wherever could it be?” she mouthed quietly.  But almost as soon as the words had left her mouth, a terrible suspicion entered her thoughts. 

“Shall I inform Mr. Hughes and Mrs. Bates?” Sarah asked, concern evident in her tone.

“No, Sarah, not just yet,” Daphne murmured.  “Let me speak with Thomas and Charlotte first.  Perhaps one of them knows its whereabouts,” she continued, struggling to appear unconcerned.  However, she knew that while Charlotte often played with her jewelry, it was unlikely that she had anything to do with the missing brooch, as her sister had never taken anything without her permission.  “In the meantime, I think the pearls will do nicely.”

Though Sarah nodded in agreement, Daphne suspected that the young maid might well be harboring the very same suspicion that she was.  In was no secret after all that the household servants knew nearly as much about their employers’ personal lives as their employers did themselves.  Thus, it would be naive and completely nonsensical to believe that those in the Hewitt’s employ knew nothing of Thomas’ financial woes.

“Of course, my lady,” Sarah replied, lifting the three-strand choker from the box and then fastening it around Daphne’s throat.

Though the carriage wasn’t due out front for another fifteen minutes, Daphne quickly put the finishing touches to her appearance and then made her way determinedly to her brother’s bedchamber down the hall.

Knocking lightly upon the door, she waited until he bade her enter before stepping into the large, elegantly furnished room that had previously belonged to her parents.  He was alone, sitting beside the unlit fireplace, a snifter of brandy in his hand.  “Is it time to go already?” he asked, glancing toward the mantle clock.

She ignored the question.  “Thomas, I just discovered that mother’s brooch, the one with the diamond and emerald flowers is missing from my jewelry case?” she said, not bothering to beat around the bush.

Thomas hesitated for a moment and then took a sip of his brandy, regarding her in silence over the edge of the glass.

“Did you take it?” she prompted, staring fixedly at her brother.  She didn’t have to wait long for an answer; his expression told her exactly what she wanted to know.  “You did.  You sold it, didn’t you?” she demanded, her tone incredulous.

“So what if I did?” he replied defiantly.  “God’s teeth, Daphne,” he continued, setting the brandy glass onto the side table with a loud thump as he rose to his feet, “you know as well as I that Blackburn’s got plenty of coin.  Surely he’ll supply you with more than enough jewels to satisfy your needs once the two of you are wed.”

For a moment she was simply too angry to speak, but when she finally found her voice her tone was surprisingly calm.  “I do not care about
jewels
, Thomas.  But that brooch was special to me.  I loved and cherished it because it belonged to mother.  Besides, she left it to
me
and you had no right to take it without my permission,” she continued evenly. 

Though his expression remained defiant, she thought she may have detected a flicker of guilt within her brother’s eyes as she stared him down.

“Damn it all,” he finally huffed indignantly.  “Blackburn may have covered my outstanding debts, but the bastard won’t advance me any additional funds until after the wedding,” he continued in a resentful tone.  “What the deuce was I supposed to do?” he grumbled plaintively.

“You should have asked me, Thomas,” she said simply.  “I think that I have already proven that I am willing to do whatever I must to protect this family, don’t you?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked from the room, profoundly disappointed by her brother’s thoughtless actions yet again. 

If nothing else, she thought as she moved along the hallway, her brother’s latest act of selfishness merely fueled her determination to proceed with her plan to take control of at least one aspect of her life.  And tonight she intended to do just that.

When their carriage came to a stop before the Duke and Duchess of Sethe’s London residence some thirty minutes later, Daphne’s emotions were rioting uncontrollably.  Though she was still upset about her mother’s brooch, she had something far more pressing to focus upon at the moment, something potentially life altering.

Would she have the nerve to do as she’d planned, to take a small measure of her life into her own hands, or would her courage ultimately fail her?  The questions, repeating themselves over and over within her thoughts, had been plaguing her for the past several days and now more so than ever, for the occasion was finally upon her.  Inhaling a deep breath she waited for the footman to open the door and lower the step and for Thomas to exit the vehicle. Only time would tell she supposed as she gathered her skirt into one hand and then followed her brother from the coach a moment later, taking his hand and then looping her arm through his as she stepped down onto the pavement. 

Casting him a quick, sidelong glance as they made their way up the walk, she was inordinately pleased to see that he appeared almost as nervous as she was, albeit for an entirely different reason of course.  She could hardly fault him for it however; as it wasn’t every day that one received an invitation to dine with the Duke and Duchess of Sethe.

Ascending the steps to the front door, Daphne noted the regal-looking butler who waited to greet them with a touch of awe.  From the top of his perfectly-combed silver hair to the tips of his highly-polished shoes, he imparted the notable distinction of a man who held the most elevated station within the home of one of England’s most powerful and affluent families.  Even Thomas appeared somewhat daunted by the man’s imposing persona, who after ushering them into the foyer, was quick to direct a young footman to show them to the drawing room.

Following the uniformed lad up the stairs, Daphne’s eyes flitted about the Leighton’s magnificent home with a touch of disbelief, for it was almost too spectacular to be believed. From the detailed craftsmanship of the home itself to the elegant furnishings and priceless works of art displayed throughout, the exquisite décor was a clear testament to the family’s enormous wealth and stature.  Though she had always thought her own family home to be quite grand, she had to admit that it paled in comparison. Noting Thomas’ expression from the corner of her eye, she could see that her brother was duly impressed as well.

Upon entering the equally impressive drawing room moments later, she and Thomas immediately drew the attention of their host and hostess, as well as the eight other guests milling about.   She immediately recognized the Earl and Countess of Chesterfield, the Dowager Marchioness of Roxleigh, whom she’d met on a previous occasion, and Brendon.  The other four guests, however, were unfamiliar to her.

“Lord Huxley, Lady Daphne, welcome,” the duchess greeted, her smile warm and friendly as she and her husband made their way toward them from across the room.

Good heavens, the two certainly made for a striking pair, Daphne thought to herself as the couple approached.  Having met them only once before, Daphne was captivated yet again by the young duchess’ extraordinary beauty; her bold, vibrant coloring so very different from her own blonde hair and fair, peaches and cream complexion.  And like his wife, the duke was extraordinarily attractive as well.  In fact, he looked a great deal like Brendon, she noted.  But unlike his brother, who exuded a patent air of charm and charisma, Nicholas Leighton’s demeanor seemed a bit more reserved than his younger sibling’s gregarious manner.

“Thank you for having us, Your Graces,” Thomas replied, bowing to the couple as they stopped before them, while Daphne dropped into a flawless curtsey at his side.

“Of course,” Ashleigh Leighton responded with a cheerful expression, “it is our pleasure.” 

“Yes, we’re delighted to have you,” Nicholas Leighton agreed graciously.

From across the room, Brendon looked on as his brother and sister-in-law greeted the final guests to arrive, Thomas and Daphne Hewitt.  Earlier that afternoon, when he’d learned that Lady Daphne and her brother had been invited to such an intimate gathering, he’d immediately sensed that something was afoot.  With Ashleigh sure to have witnessed him dancing with Lady Daphne at the Chesterfield’s ball, his intuition suggested that his well-intentioned sister-in-law might be trying her hand at match-making. 

Then, when she’d informed him just moments ago that he would be serving as Lady Daphne’s dinner companion, his suspicion had all but been confirmed.  Unfortunately for Ashleigh, however, he wasn’t prepared to surrender his carefree lifestyle just yet.  Not that he had anything against the state of matrimony, for he had only to look to his brother’s union to see the joy and happiness it had brought to his life.  Even so, marriage wasn’t for him, at least not yet anyhow.  Nonetheless, he had to give Ashleigh credit, for she knew him well, focusing her attention upon one of the few women he might have actually considered if he
was
in the market for a wife.

Fixing his regard solely upon Daphne then, his discerning gaze sweeping from the top of her blonde curls to the tips of the green satin slippers peeking out from beneath the hem of her gown, he drank in every detail of the enchanting vision she presented.  Looking breathtakingly lovely, she was outfitted in a striking off the shoulder gown of ivory silk with emerald-colored rosettes affixed to the shoulders and matching green ribbons woven throughout the artfully designed bodice and along the hemline of the full skirt.  It was an elegant, sophisticated style that hugged her feminine curves in all of the right places and made her appear older than her years.

  As he watched Ashleigh begin to steer Daphne and her brother through the small assembly of guests, making introductions along the way, he gave himself a mental shake, mindful that despite the potent, undeniable attraction he felt toward the enticing beauty, the young lady was in fact an innocent and therefore regrettably off-limits.

“Lord Huxley, I have partnered you with Lady Willowby this evening,” the duchess said to Thomas as they stood before the countess, an attractive, middle-aged widow who was said to have inherited a small fortune from her late husband.  “I’ve no doubt that the two of you will get along famously.”

It appeared that the duchess’ assumption was correct as the two greeted one another, for both Thomas and Lady Willowby seemed quite pleased with the arrangement.  It wasn’t altogether surprising, Daphne mused, for Thomas was a handsome fellow, having inherited their father’s wavy, chestnut-colored locks and vivid blue eyes.  In addition, her brother could be quite charming when he chose to be.

Watching him from the corner of her eye, Daphne could almost see the wheels begin to turn within his head as the two conversed.  Hmm, she thought.  If his pursuit of Miss Flemming proved unsuccessful, Lady Willowby might well find herself the new recipient of her brother’s iniquitous attentions, despite the difference in their ages.

Moments later, as Thomas continued to chat amiably with Lady Willowby, the duchess led Daphne to where her brother-in-law stood alongside Alexander and Tiffany Warrene just a few feet away.