Why would he care?
“No, I doubt he’d be surprised. He’s at Mivart’s tonight, expecting a visit from my father’s second.” Another mistake. Her father was the king of cowards. “But he’s averse toviolence when the odds aren’t favourable. He decided to visit Mr Irving instead.”
“And now you’re in a dreadful predicament.”
The statement hung in the air like the threat of checkmate.
Lady Soanes refilled their glasses, her brow knitting as though she were contemplating which move on the board might save the queen.
“Angel,” the lady muttered. “Who’d have thought it?”
“Maybe he meant to soften the blow.”
Lady Soanes smiled. “Yet I’ve never known him let his guard slip. I can understand why he wrote the endearment, a clever ploy to cement his position. But not why he’d bother to flatter you.”
Was it flattery, or merely mockery?
“Who can say what he intended?” Other than to make a spectacle of her to satisfy his own devious ends.
“Who indeed?” Lady Soanes studied her as one might an odd curiosity. “Of course, he expects me to take you under my wing. Teach you the art of making men fall over themselves despite never knowing the pleasure of having you.”
Daphne imagined all eyes on her as she entered the ballroom. Fake smiles, empty compliments, and men waiting for the chance to catch her alone in a dark corner.
She shivered as though someone had walked over her grave. “My father may be a coward when it comes to his peers, but not so with his kin. Mr Hawke is wrong if he believes I can avoid capture. I expect my father is already sourcing a ticket to India.”
“You possess the qualities to succeed, Miss Harland.”
“Yet I’d prefer a simple life in the country.”
“Without funds, how would you survive?”
“I’d have to work, my lady.” Twelve hours of toil waspreferable to twenty-four with Mr Irving. “And pray my father never finds me.”
The lady’s gaze roamed over Daphne’s figure. “There is somewhere you might put your talents to good use. Somewhere your father would never reach you.”
Daphne’s heart skipped a beat. “The Americas?”
“No,” the lady said, grinning. “Shadowmere.”
Shadowmere.
An image of Mr Hawke crashed into her mind, sending her heart pounding. He was formidable when calling herangel. How would he react when she invaded his territory? “He’d never permit me over the threshold.”
“He’s not there. He’s at Mivart’s. I could write you a note. My coachman will take you directly.”
A pang of trepidation hit her squarely in the chest. “It’s a house of ill repute. Tales of the wicked?—”
“It’s Hawke’s home. He merely hires out part of the house on weekends. Don’t believe all the gossip. Judge for yourself. Stay for a month. If you decide to leave after that, I shall find you a safe place to live.”
She fell silent, a little dumbfounded.
“Use what you have: your poise, your perception, your unfailing ability to see through a man. You’re not as powerless as they’d have you believe.”
She shook her head, doubting she’d survive a night.
“Mr Hawke is not a man open to charm.”
“Yet you’ve done something right.”
