And the Miss Ran Away With the Rake - By Elizabeth Boyle Page 0,69
him away.”
“I hardly think it was as you say,” Lord Henry remarked as he turned a page and pointed to the place for her to continue.
“I haven’t forgotten any of it,” Zillah told him.
Save the man’s name, Daphne would point out.
“That gel ensnared my nearly betrothed with her Dale wiles. Quite ruined him, because a fortnight later she threw him over. Fickle, scandalous creature that she was. Just as that bit of Dale muslin here will ruin you.”
Daphne blew out an exasperated breath. Seldons! What an overly dramatic lot. And whoever was Dahlia Dale?
She ran through her family tree, searching all the branches, and then came to a stop.
Oh! That Dahlia Dale. The one Great-Aunt Damaris kept a portrait of—displayed in a dark corner in one of the back hallways.
The one Cousin Phi had remarked upon before a crowded room of Dales by saying in all innocence, “Daphne rather takes after Cousin Dahlia, don’t you all think so?”
And had been met with stone-faced, horrified shock.
Oh, yes, that Dahlia Dale.
Inside the music room, the debate continued. “Aunt Zillah, if I recall the story correctly, you didn’t want to marry Monnery—”
“Of course I didn’t want to marry Monnery. He was a nincompoop.”
“So you might consider that this Dahlia Dale did you a favor,” Lord Henry suggested.
“Stealing my nearly betrothed from me at my debut ball? Hardly!” Lady Zillah shook her head furiously, the keys of the piano taking the brunt of her indignation. “Bad form runs through their blood like scandal does ours,” she declared, as if one trait was better than the other.
And Daphne knew exactly which trait Lady Zillah found superior.
“What concerns me most is how you were dangling after her last night,” Zillah continued. “I won’t have you beguiled and entangled by that minx!”
“Zillah!” Lord Henry protested.
“No, hear me out! You are far too innocent in these matters—”
It took every bit of Daphne’s restraint not to snort. Lord Henry? Innocent?
Obviously the name of the old lady’s lost love wasn’t the only thing she was a bit addled about.
“—I fear that girl has you in her crosshairs. She’s using you, if only to appear more eligible than she actually is. That’s how they do it.”
“Zillah—” Lord Henry’s voice held a warning tone.
“And she will only ruin your hopes of making an advantageous match. Who is this Daphne Dale? She’s not even one of the better Dales.”
“There are better ones?” he teased.
“You know exactly what I mean. I’m surprised she hasn’t been fawned off on that old warhorse, Damaris, as a companion. That’s what they do with the ones who have no hope of a match or have fallen,” Zillah told him, wagging a finger in warning. “Mark my words, that gel wants to see you entangled.”
Daphne couldn’t breathe. For even as the lady said the word—entangled—all she could imagine was being in Lord Henry’s arms again.
Entangled. Enticed. Enthralled.
But not for long.
“You needn’t fear for my sake,” Lord Henry was saying. “I have it on good authority that Miss Dale is all but betrothed.”
“What’s this?” Lady Zillah said in that loud, impertinent voice of hers.
Daphne didn’t think the lady was hard of hearing, rather she just liked making people repeat themselves.
“Daphne Dale will not be a Dale for long,” Henry said.
“Once a Dale—”
—always a Seldon, Daphne mused.
Henry struck a balance between the two of them. “Yes, yes, I know.”
“So if this gel has someone else on the hook, whyever are you dangling after her?”
“I’m not.”
Daphne huffed a bit. Well, he needn’t sound so adamant. Or so put out.
“Good,” Lady Zillah said. After a few moments, she spoke up again. “There is that lovely Miss Nashe—”
Daphne discovered there was adamant and then there was adamant.
“Good God, no!” he burst out.
So Lord Henry hadn’t been taken in by Miss Nashe’s winsome smiles and precise manners. Daphne pressed her lips together to keep from smiling smugly.
If only she could be the one to tell Miss Nashe. . . .
“Oh, she’s an ill-bred mushroom, I’ll give you that,” Lady Zillah conceded.
“You can say that again,” Lord Henry enthused.
“But she has the loveliest dowry,” the lady added, cackling with open avarice.
Daphne wished Miss Nashe and her lovely dowry to perdition.
And so, it seemed, did Lord Henry.
“Zillah! I have no interest in that girl. She could have a king’s ransom at her feet and I would still find her unworthy.”
The old girl seemed unimpressed. “Well,” she sniffed. “A fortune like that belongs where it can be well served. Not lining a merchant’s pockets.”