Delilah had a foxlike smile on her face. “Perhaps.”
“I thought you’d gone up to bed. How did you know?”
“You cannot possibly think I would remain in bed with all of the interesting things happening in this house last night.”
“What interesting things?” Daphne asked, pressing her fingertips to her temples.
“Things like Lord Fitzwell finding you outside in the gardens with Captain Cavendish.”
“But that only happened becauseyoutold him where I was. How did you know, by the way?”
“I can’t be held responsible if I happened to help along the interesting things. And I knew because I was the one who pointed you in the direction of the gardens last night. Don’t you remember? You were singing a song I taught you. I knew Captain Cavendish was out there.”
Daphne sat up straight and then groaned and rubbed her skull again. She’d moved far too quickly. “Delilah Montbank, tell me you did not orchestrate that entire set of madness that occurred last night.”
Delilah put her hands on both hips. “Well, I like that. You’re welcome.”
“You did it all on purpose?” Daphne groaned. “Why?”
“Because Lord Fitzwell is not meant to be my cousin.”
Daphne turned a pleading look toward Cass. “What do you think about this?”
Cass shrugged. “I can’t say I blame her. And I’m quite impressed by her ingenuity.”
Delilah beamed and executed a haphazard pirouette before bowing to Cass. “Merci, my lady.”
“Did Aunt Willie know what you were about?” Daphne asked her cousin.
“Oh, Cousin Daphne.” Delilah rolled her eyes. “Aunt Willie is the one who informed me that Captain Cavendish was in the gardens alone. Now, I had better get downstairs before Mrs. Upton eats all of the teacakes.” And with that, Delilah skipped back to the door and left.
Daphne gave Cass a dejected look. “My entire family is plotting against me.”
“It’s not as bad as all of that. I promise you,” Cass said. “I think you should just take the day and rest, dear. There’s no need to make any hasty decisions.”
Daphne shook her head. “No. No. There’s no time to rest. Read me the list of eligibles, won’t you? I may have made a mess of things with Lord Fitzwell but he’s not the only gentleman in London.”
“I don’t think—”
“Please, Cass. Read them. After I get back from the mission with Rafe, we’ll have another party. There will be another engagement. And by then I’ll have my annulment so all will be well.”
“I swear. I’ve never known you to sit still for so much as a minute,” Cass replied. “Fine. I’ll read them to you. And after you pick your next potential bridegroom, what then?”
“Then, I prepare for tonight. Rafe is coming for me after dinner. I must transform myself into a convincing cabin boy.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rafe rapped on the back door to the Swifdon house. He’d maneuvered his mount through the streets, around the mews, and through the alley behind the Earl of Swifdon’s Mayfair residence. No one would see Lady Daphne Swift leaving the house dressed as a boy.
He’d left last night soon after Claringdon had escorted Daphne back inside. First, he’d found Swifdon in his study and informed him that his little sister was very much the worse for drink. He’d told Swifdon that he believed Lucy Hunt was ensuring that Daphne got tucked into bed without her mother being any the wiser. Swifdon had thanked him for his discretion, asked to speak with Lord Fitzwell privately, and told Rafe that he would send him a letter in the morning informing him of Daphne’s condition. Apparently, Swifdon knew of a concoction that was said to quickly cure a sick head. Good thing, because worse for drink or not, Rafe still desperately needed Daphne’s help.
Later, Rafe had watched with an unabashed smile on his face as Lord Fitzwell ordered his coach and left the Swifts’ house, jamming his hat atop his head, and ripping his coat from Pengree’s grasp.
Then, Rafe had left. He’d returned to his rooms in a less fashionable part of town. He’d been relieved, actually, when Swifdon’s letter had arrived this morning saying that Daphne had made a full recovery thanks to the concoction and was intent upon fulfilling her promise. Rafe had been a bit too relieved, perhaps. He’d expected Daphne to be angry with him, perhaps use her failed engagement as an excuse to back out of their agreement. He’d been wrong about her.
The back door swung open and Pengree was there. Clearly, the butler had been expecting him. “Captain Cavendish. Lord Swifdon wishes to see you.”
Rafe followed the butler through the back of the house, up a small staircase, and through a series of corridors until they came to the familiar space in front of the doors that led to Swifdon’s study.
