Lady Daphne twined her arm through Danielle’s and pulled her close. “I daresay, with our combined experience, we shall plan a magnificent ball.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Aye, there, Oakleaf, wot happened to yer eye?” a booming voice called out to Cade.
Cade wore the common clothes of a dockworker, including a hat, white shirt, and coarse breeches. He’d traded in his boots from Hoby’s for a decidedly less costly pair. There was only one more thing to do to fit in in this environment—change his voice. He needed to get this over with quickly. Daphne’s ball was tonight and his sister-in-law wouldn’t be pleased if he arrived late or say… bleeding.
“Why don’t ye sit down and ’ave a drink wit me, O’Conner, and I’ll tell ye the tale,” Cade answered. He pulled his tricorn down over his forehead. The London docks were a teeming rabbit warren of taverns, alleys, and streets. Overall, the place wasn’t large, however, and in these parts if someone saw him they might recognize him not only as Oakleaf but also as Eversby, Duhaime, or a variety of other names.
Tommy O’Conner had been out to sea for more years than Cade had been alive. The man knew the comings and goings along the docks better than most. He knew when every single ship put into port and when it was planning to leave. More importantly, he had a couple of the wharf police in his pocket. O’Conner was a good man to know.
“Someone didn’t like the look o’ ye, eh?” O’Conner pulled up a chair next to Cade’s table and straddled it.
“Somethin’ like that.” Cade ordered a mug of ale from a young lady who leered at him with lust in her eyes.
“Evenin’, guvna,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him.
He was not interested. A vision of Danielle flashed through his mind. Which reminded him. He needed to get to business and leave this fine establishment. Alone. He’d promised Danielle a dance at midnight.
“Do ye ’ave the information I seek?” He nearly barked at O’Conner.
“So touchy tonight, is ye?”
Cade rubbed the back of his neck and took a quaff of the ale the barmaid brought him. “Just… busy.”
“I see that, Cap’n. Got a fancy ball ta attend?” The man nearly laughed himself into stitches.
“Somethin’ like that.” Cade forced a smile.
O’Conner fished in his dirty coat pocket and brought out a sealed letter that he promptly handed to Cade. “Yer information, Cap’n.”
Cade took the letter, stuffed it into his inside coat pocket, downed the rest of the ale with a grimace, and wiped the back of his mouth. He stood and tossed a few coins on the table to pay for both his and O’Conner’s drinks. Then he pulled out another small but hefty bag of coins and threw it to O’Conner. “Your fee.”
O’Conner caught the bag in one meaty hand and tested its weight. A slow smile spread across his weathered face. “A pleasure doin’ bus’ness wit ye as usual, Cap’n.” O’Conner’s raucous laughter followed Cade out the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Delilah, you know you’re not supposed to be down here.” Daphne shook her head at her cousin. The girl was sitting on a tufted ottoman in a corner of the ballroom, eating a tea cake. She wore her best pink gown with a wide pink bow on her head, and she swung her white stockinged feet in time to the music.
It was half past eleven and the ball was busy and crowded. Daphne was relieved the party had been a success, despite her cousin’s sneaking about. She’d broken away from the large crowd in the ballroom to chastise Delilah whom she’d spotted in the corner. “You promised you’d stay upstairs and only peek down once in a while.”
“I know, Cousin Daphne, butj’adorethe music andj’adorethe dancing and the beautiful gowns. I just couldn’thelpmyself. Not to mention there are tea cakes down here and nary a one upstairs.”
Daphne put her hands on her hips. “Despite the plethora of tea cakes, you shouldn’t be here. I will send up a maid with some tea cakes for you.”
“Why shouldn’t I be here?” Delilah asked. “J’adorea ball.” She took a large bite of tea cake.
“Your debut isn’t for five more years.” Daphne tapped her slipper against the floor.
Delilah finished chewing. Her subsequent sigh was long and exaggerated. “It might as well be five more decades for as successful as it’s certain to be.”
“Why do you say that?” Daphne asked, frowning.
“Allow me to call attention to the fact that my bow is askew.” Delilah pointed at her head. “I cannot dance.” She pointed at her feet. “And I have an unfortunate jelly stain on my bodice which I was hoping no one would notice but now I must reveal its existence in order to prove my point.” She pointed at her bodice where, indeed, a dark red stain was visible.
“And what is your point?” Daphne asked.
“That I am a mess. I have no grace, no style, no bearing. Nor poise. I have absolutely no poise to speak of. And you’re constantly telling me my French needs work.”
