Romancing Her Rival - Joanna Barker

Prologue

Surrey, England, 1808

Daphne Windham had never thought of herself as a thief—she’d always been something of a stickler for the rules. But her friends made it rather easy to convince herself they were bending the rules, not breaking them. Still, she glanced over her shoulder anxiously as she waited in the open doorway to the kitchen.

“Hurry, Phoebe,” she urged in a whisper.

“Already done.”

Daphne jumped as Phoebe appeared next to her in the dark, the corridor barely lit by the half-moon outside. Phoebe grinned, her hands filled with her handkerchief-wrapped sweets.

“How many times have we done this, and still you are nervous?” she asked in a hushed voice as she led the way to the back door. Daphne followed, both girls stepping carefully to avoid the creaking floorboards they knew so well after years of attending Mrs. Vernal’s Seminary for Distinguished Young Ladies.

“Not nervous,” Daphne answered. “Just appropriately cautious.”

Phoebe shot her an amused look. “Of course.”

The two girls slipped out into the cool April evening, the moon hovering low on the horizon. The school behind them stood dark and silent as they crept across the lawn, making for the shadowed gazebo near the edge of the garden. Soft voices met them as they approached, and Daphne spotted Marah and Isabel talking quietly in the center of the gazebo.

Daphne’s chest pinched. Oh, dear Marah. She’d received word only a few days before that her father had died. As if that was not difficult enough, she would be leaving them all tomorrow to return to her family. They’d thought to have a few more weeks at least before separating for summer, but now…

Isabel’s strong voice interrupted her thoughts. “I know what might help,” she said to Marah, beckoning Daphne and Phoebe to her with a wave of her hand. “Your best friends with your favorite—”

“Chelsea buns!” Phoebe said with a bright smile, holding up her package of smushed sweets.

Daphne nearly hushed them both, even though she knew no one could possibly hear them from the school. She was being ridiculous. She needed to relax and enjoy their last evening together.

“Phoebe, Daphne,” Marah said suspiciously. “You didn’t make those, did you?”

“Can you imagine me covered in flour? We didn’t make them.” Phoebe gave a wry smile. “We borrowed them from the kitchen.”

“Yes,” Daphne cut in, “and I do not think they’ll want them back after what Phoebe’s done to them.”

Isabel laughed, but Marah only shook her head. “You shouldn’t have taken them. The last time Phoebe stole from the kitchens, she had to teach the first years how to sip their tea correctly. I don’t want you to—”

Daphne stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on Marah’s arm. “You’re leaving tomorrow, Marah. You needn’t worry about us.”

Marah swallowed, and Daphne wanted to hug her tight, but then Phoebe spoke, looking about the gazebo with a furrowed brow. “Where is Lavinia? It’s not like her to call a meeting and then be the last to show.”

A stern voice came behind them. “I won’t begin until everyone is sitting quietly with their hands in their laps and their eyes on me.” Lavinia stepped up onto the gazebo with her nose in the air, hands clasped neatly before her in the spitting image of their least-favorite teacher.

“Who invited Mrs. Vernal?” Isabel teased.

Lavinia laughed, breaking her act and coming to join the other girls. “I’ve a surprise for you. When have you ever known Mrs. Vernal to say that?”

“Once.” Phoebe made a face. “Before the Latin test.”

The girls giggled as they settled onto the blankets spread on the wooden planks of the gazebo. Daphne pulled her dressing gown tight around her, lifting her head to feel the night breeze on her face. As uneasy as sneaking out made her, she could not deny she loved the sense of freedom, the exhilarating idea that she was doing something that Mrs. Vernal—and Mother—would not approve of. But then, Mother rarely approved of anything she did.

Lavinia pulled a small sack from behind her back and set it before her. “Under normal circumstances, you know I would say we should eat first. But tonight, the food can wait.”

“Must it, though?” Phoebe asked. “I’m near to starving.”

“Her stomach was growling all the way here,” Daphne confirmed.

Phoebe sent her a mock glare as the girls laughed again, and Daphne gave a sly grin. She never felt more comfortable, more herself, than when she was with her friends. Unless, of course, she was with Cole. But he was a friend as well, so it was all the