When Only a Rake Will Do (7 page)

“And you, Lady Daphne, will be escorted by His Grace’s brother, Lord Leighton,” she continued, motioning to Brendon.  “I believe the two of you are already acquainted, are you not?” the duchess asked, regarding Daphne expectantly.

“Yes, Your Grace,” she said, smiling politely to Brendon.  “Lord Leighton and I were introduced at Lord and Lady Chesterfield’s ball,” she confirmed, glancing toward the aforementioned couple.

“Yes, quite right,” Brendon affirmed with an answering smile.

“Daphne, how lovely to see you again,” Tiffany said warmly.

Only a few years older than she was, Tiffany Warrene was as kind-hearted as she was beautiful, and since marrying into the Warrene family she had become a good friend as well.  Looking at her now, in her form-fitting satin gown of sapphire-blue, one would never suspect that she had recently given birth to her and Alex’s first child.

“Yes, Lady Daphne, it’s lovely to see you again,” Alex seconded.  “My mother and sisters send their felicitations, as well,” he added with a friendly smile.  “They would have been here themselves but for a prior engagement.”

“Please let them know that I shall call upon them soon.”  Normally she would have welcomed their company, but not tonight, for their presence would likely have made the execution of her plan all the more difficult.

“I will indeed.”

Their conversation was interrupted then by a discreet cough from one of the Leighton’s footmen as he came to stand just inside the parlor doors.

“Shall we move into the dining room,” the duchess suggested; her voice carrying as she glanced about the room.  “I believe dinner is ready to be served.”

“Shall we?” Brendon asked, extending his elbow to Daphne.

With an agreeable nod, she looped her arm through his.

Once they had all been seated at the Leighton’s magnificently set dining table, Daphne turned to Brendon as they waited for the initial course to be served.  Despite her nervousness, she was doing her best to appear outwardly confident.  “So, my lord, have you had further occasion to make use of the park since I saw you last?”  Though she’d been hoping to see him riding there again, she hadn’t spotted him within the boundaries of the park since their initial encounter.

“Regrettably I have not,” Brendon replied with a rueful expression.  “I was called away unexpectedly to attend to a business matter in Ipswich earlier this week and I have only returned to town this very afternoon,” he expounded.  “Perhaps tomorrow if the weather holds I shall have the opportunity to take Samson out, for I’m certain that he is longing for a good run.”  Regarding her expectantly he then asked, “Will I see you there?”

“I would imagine so, if the weather holds,” she responded.  In all honesty, however, her presence in the park the following morning would likely depend not upon the weather, but upon the outcome of the proposal she intended to present him with later in the evening, given that she was somehow presented with an opportunity to speak with him alone.

“Well then, I shall certainly hope for clear skies upon the morrow,” Brendon replied with a rakish grin. 

“As will I,” she said with an answering smile.

They were distracted then as the first course was brought to the table and they were each served a steaming bowl of Vermicelli soup.

“It smells delicious,” Daphne said as a mouthwatering aroma filled the air around her.

“Trust me, it tastes even better than it smells,” Brendon replied with an easy assurance.  “My brother’s chef is one of the finest in the country.  In fact, Nicholas and Ashleigh have been called upon more than once to thwart the efforts of another Society host or hostess daring enough to try to lure the man away to his or her own kitchen,” he continued with an amused expression. 

“Surely no one would do such a thing,” Daphne proclaimed, eyeing him dubiously.

Brendon merely grinned as he lifted a spoonful of the aromatic soup to his lips.

Daphne followed suit, taking a spoonful from her own bowl and placing it delicately against her lips.  Her taste buds exploded in the very next instant.   Brendon hadn’t exaggerated, the soup was absolutely scrumptious.

“Do you believe me now?” Brendon asked with a light chuckle.

Daphne grinned.  “If this is any indication of the man’s culinary abilities, then I most certainly do.”

Brendon nodded.  “Just wait until the next course.”

Even as he said the words, Daphne was already looking forward to it. 

By the time the second course arrived, a turbot with lobster and Dutch sauces and a portion of red mullet, the conversation was flowing easily between them and their surrounding dinner companions.  For a time, she even managed to set aside the terrible anxiety that had been plaguing her since her and Thomas’ arrival. 

In fact, it wasn’t until dessert had been served and eaten, a Neapolitan cake with buttercream frosting and a tantalizing selection of crepes, éclairs and meringue, and the ladies had all risen from the table to accompany the duchess to the drawing room for coffee and tea that her nervousness began to return in full measure.  For she knew that as soon as the gentlemen finished their port and joined them once again, she was going to have to employ some sort of strategy that would, if all went according to plan, enable her to speak with Brendon alone. 

As it happened, it was Ashleigh Leighton who unwittingly provided Daphne with just the opportunity she needed approximately thirty minutes later.

“Brendon,” the duchess called, motioning him over to where they were seated as the gentlemen made their way into the parlor.  “I have just discovered that like you and I, Lady Daphne has a particular appreciation for renaissance art,” she said as he approached. 

“Indeed?”

“Quite so,” the duchess continued.  “As such, I was thinking that she might enjoy a tour of the art gallery.”  She turned back to Daphne with an engaging smile.  “Nicholas and Brendon’s grandfather was an avid collector of early Italian renaissance paintings and sculptures, and while most of his collection is exhibited at our country home, there are several pieces on display here as well.”

“Tis true, it’s quite a collection,” Brendon agreed.  “If you would care to view the works we have here, Lady Daphne, I would be delighted to escort you.”

“I would love to,” Daphne replied, rising eagerly from her seat on the silk brocade-covered settee, silently praying that none of the other guests would ask to join them.

Thankfully no one did.

Offering Daphne his elbow, Brendon had little doubt that Ashleigh’s suggestion had been just another part of her cleverly orchestrated plan to further his acquaintance with Lady Daphne, but as the lovely lady slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, he couldn’t honestly say that he minded.

“So, it appears that you and I share yet another interest,” Brendon commented as he led Daphne in the direction of the second floor art gallery.

“Indeed, we do seem to have a great deal in common,” she replied with an agreeable smile, though in actuality her interest in renaissance art was at present the furthest thing from her mind.

“Here we are,” he said moments later as he lead her into a long, narrow gas-lit corridor lined with paintings and intermingled with over a dozen pedestals supporting a variety of sculptures in varying shapes and sizes.

“Oh my,” Daphne gasped, awed by the incredible, museum-like display that surely only the wealthiest of families could afford to possess.  Seeing it, she could only imagine what amazing treasures their country home held.

“It is a bit overwhelming, isn’t it,” Brendon acknowledged with a small, self-conscious laugh.

“It’s incredible,” Daphne uttered as she gazed upon an enormous oil painting depicting the Madonna and Child.

“Have you a favorite artist?” Brendon inquired as they moved slowly along the corridor.

“Michelangelo,” she replied without hesitation.  Her mother had been a great admirer of art and of Michelangelo especially, a fascination Daphne had shared.

“Ah, the divine one.  He’s a favorite of mine as well.”

“Did your grandfather acquire any of his works?” she asked.

“Multiple pieces,” Brendon replied.  “A small painting of the Sibyls, an angel sculpted of marble and several pencil drawings.  All of which presently reside at Sethe Manor, however.”

Daphne could only shake her head in amazement.  To house not one, but several of Michelangelo’s works in a private collection was simply astounding.

As they continued their walk Daphne was so completely captivated by the stunning artwork before her, some of which from celebrated artists like Veronese, Botticelli and Raphael, that she very nearly forgot the reason she’d wanted to speak with Brendon privately.  But even as she admired the dazzling display of art, in the back of her mind was the realization that this would undoubtedly be her only chance to get him alone before the night was through.

And so, before the opportunity was lost, Daphne turned and reached out, placing her hand lightly upon Brendon’s arm. “My lord, if I were to tell you something in confidence, would you give me your word not to repeat it?” she asked, eyeing him intently.  “Not to anyone?”

Brendon glanced down at the hand resting atop his forearm and then back up to Daphne, the sudden gravity of her tone catching him unawares.  “A confidence?” he replied, cocking his head to one side as he studied her face.

Daphne merely nodded as she continued to look deeply into his eyes. 
Could she trust him or was she making a terrible mistake?  Would he even consider her proposition, or would he scoff at her audacious proposal, leaving her embarrassed and completely humiliated. 
The discomfiting thoughts were all racing through her mind as she waited for him to respond.

“You have my word,” he said, noting the seriousness of her expression.

Daphne lifted her fingers from his forearm, and then dropping her hands she clasped them together in front of her.  “I’m engaged to be married,” she confessed quietly, “though the official announcement has yet to be made.”

Brendon wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to hear, but that certainly wasn’t it.  Shocked by the unexpected announcement, he found himself temporarily at a loss for words.  “Oh,” he finally said.  “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order then,” he continued, smiling graciously as he digested the unforeseen bit of information.  “Might I inquire as to which lucky gentleman has been awarded such an extraordinary honor?”

“I’d…rather not say,” Daphne hedged.

Brendon’s brow furrowed as he regarded her curiously.

“He’s not someone I would have chosen for myself,” she confessed.  “In all honesty, I haven’t the slightest desire to marry him at all.”

Brendon’s expression was searching now.  “And yet you’ve agreed to his proposal?”

“I assure you, my lord, that I had very little choice in the matter,” she said softly.  Casting her eyes downward, she focused upon the pattern in the marble floor as she continued to speak.  “My brother has squandered the money he inherited from my parents, you see, and regrettably I am to be his salvation.”

“I see.”  Though hers was hardly an isolated case, for money was generally the motivating factor in Society marriages, he felt badly for her all the same.  “I’m sorry,” Brendon said quietly and with utter sincerity.

“If not for my younger sister’s wellbeing, I would have refused the match and gladly taken my chances on the street.”  She looked up meeting his eyes once again.  “But to insure her continued welfare I have agreed to marry a man I despise, a man old enough to be my grandfather,” she said, fighting to keep the bitterness from her voice.

Watching as Daphne struggled for control, Brendon felt his anger quickly mounting as he silently damned Thomas Hewitt for the reckless, self-serving bastard that he was.  If only George were still alive, he thought regretfully.  “If it’s money you need-”

“No,” Daphne held up her hand to keep him from continuing.  “That is incredibly generous of you, my lord, but I couldn’t take your money,” she said, shaking her head. 

“Nonsense,” Brendon declared vehemently.  “As I mentioned to you the night we first met, your brother George and I were the closest of friends.  I swear to you, Lady Daphne, that it would be an honor for me to help you and your sister in any way that I can.”

“Thank you, my lord.  You have no idea how much your kind offer means to me, but I have accepted my fate and I will adhere to the arrangement my brother has made,” she stated with quiet conviction.  “But nonetheless, there
is
something else that I would ask of you, something rather…unorthodox.”

The sudden hesitance in her tone, combined with the word unorthodox, gave Brendon a moment’s pause, thus he hesitated a moment before asking, “And that would be?”

Daphne took a deep breath before speaking.  “As a child did you believe in fairytales, my lord?”

Brendon was instantly nonplussed.  What on earth did fairytales have to do with the topic of their discussion?  “Fairytales?”

“Romantic stories, those filled with desire, passion and abiding love, those that ended in the perfect happily ever after,” she clarified.