And the Miss Ran Away With the Rake - By Elizabeth Boyle Page 0,32
letters.
An affair implied something so much more . . . well, personal. Physical.
And why was it that when that word physical came teasing through her thoughts, she recalled Lord Henry’s arms around her?
Lord Henry holding her close . . . Lord Henry about to . . .
Dear heavens, had Dishforth seen her with that Seldon scoundrel? Seen her lingering in his embrace? However would she explain that she’d thought that rakish devil was him?
“Don’t look so despairing, Daphne,” Phi told her. “I know you are jumping to every conclusion but the correct one.”
The correct one? The note in Phi’s words lent some hope to the entire scenario.
“Tell me everything,” Daphne said. “Everything.”
Phi basked in her moment of importance. “He is the handsomest man I have ever seen. Far more handsome than Cousin Crispin.”
More handsome than even Crispin, Viscount Dale? Was such a thing possible?
Then Daphne noticed something important. “Phi?”
“Yes?” Her cousin winked owlishly at her.
“Where are your spectacles?”
Phi touched her nose and, realizing she didn’t have them on, plucked them out of her apron pocket and quickly slid them on. She blinked a few times, then glanced at Daphne as if seeing her anew.
Which she was.
“My, don’t you look lovely today!” Phi enthused. Then she must have seen Daphne’s speculative expression. “I know what you are thinking, and yes, even without my spectacles, I can discern a truly handsome man.”
“If you say so—”
“I do,” she insisted, ruffling a bit. “Now where was I? Oh, yes, sorting out the salver—just in case one of his letters had been mixed in—when I heard someone coming up the steps. His boots made such an impressive sound—so strong a stride. Immediately I knew.”
Daphne nodded in understanding, thinking of the steady, purposeful beat of Lord Henry’s heels as he’d danced with her.
Though the comparison was not to be taken very seriously. Lord Henry could hardly hold a candle to Mr. Dishforth.
Especially now that she’d seen him. Well, sort of.
“I got the door just as he was about to ring the bell,” Phi said.
“Thank goodness!” Daphne exclaimed, having been curious as to how Great-Aunt Damaris had not been awakened.
“Yes, precisely,” Phi agreed. “Then he bowed—most elegantly—”
“Of course,” Daphne agreed, envisioning him doffing his top hat and making his bow.
“And then he introduced himself,” she said. “And asked to see you. Well, not you, but Miss Spooner. ‘I am here to see Miss Spooner,’ he said and in such a commanding voice, Daphne.” Phi sighed. “Yet he was ever-so-considerate at the same time. I nearly swooned.”
“Truly?” For Phi was the most practical of all the practical Dales.
Phi spoke in hushed tones of awe. “His voice is like the finest plum cake. Rich and deep and ever so tempting.”
Daphne sat back and eyed her cousin. She had the sudden suspicion that Phi had taken to reading those ridiculous Miss Darby novels that Harriet swore were the most romantic stories ever written.
“Yes, well,” Phi continued when she realized Daphne was gaping at her, “suffice it to say your Mr. D is handsome, mannerly and speaks in the most heavenly tones.”
“But what did he want?”
“Well, you!” Phi said. “He wanted to see you. He was most insistent.”
Daphne let out the breath she’d been holding. “Whatever did you tell him?”
“That you were not here. That you had gone out of Town.” Phi sighed. “Which is nearly the truth, for you are still planning on returning to Kempton when the others go to that house party, are you not?”
“That house party” being the one at Owle Park.
Phi was a Dale down to her bones in her dismay.
“Yes,” Daphne told her. “I am returning to Kempton. On the afternoon coach, the day after next.”
Phi nodded approvingly, for she’d been on hand when Great-Aunt Damaris had lectured for a full hour on the follies and ruin of associating with the Seldons, including instructing Daphne on how to extract herself from her friendship with Miss Timmons now that Tabitha was to be so tainted in her marriage to one.
“You might want to find some way to delay your return,” Phi said, “for he would not take ‘no’ for an answer when I said you were unavailable.”
Daphne shivered. Handsome and forceful. “Whatever did you do?”
“Gave him the letter you asked me to post yesterday. And wished him a good day.” She shrugged. “I had to get him out of the foyer as quickly as possible before Herself caught wind of him . . . or worse, Croston came up from the kitchen.”