He proved her correct by doing the most shocking thing of all.
“Aye, just call me Mr. Lady Worth. For indeed, I am Daphne’s proud husband.”
He bent his big frame in a bow so low, slow, and graceful it flirted with parody. It was a sensual caress of a bow.
Daphne noted that Delilah and Mrs. Durand were at once transfixed.
When upright he said, “I more typically answer to Mr. Lorcan St. Leger. It is indeed a pleasure to meet any friend of my wife’s. Thank you both for welcoming us to your establishment. I understand The Grand Palace on the Thames is very exclusive and it’s easy to see why.”
It was such a pretty speech it was almost impossible to believe he’d recently hissed a death threat to a knife-wielding thug. If she’d closed her eyes, she could almost believe he was a gentleman. Almost.
Relief and humiliation and relief again visited her in violent succession, like those slaps he’d applied to the thief. He’d solved a problem and created another.
But wasn’t that the run of her life lately?
Daphne realized she had never before outright, baldly lied to anyone. A lie made up out of whole cloth. And in a moment of startling epiphany, she realized it was because she’d never really needed to. She wondered how many things she would be willing to do if she were cornered. If self-righteousness was really just the bastion of the comfortable.
“Thank you, Mr. St. Leger,” Delilah said. “That is very kind of you to say.”
Both Mrs. Hardy and Mrs. Durand were regarding him with the sort of fascination and amazement to which he was no doubt accustomed.
Which made her wonder what sort of menthey’dmarried.
Another silent interval ensued.
Aplomb was in short supply in the pink room.
“Well. Daphne!” Delilah turned to her. “My goodness. I suppose we can both attest that life certainly takes turns we do not anticipate. As do our hearts, I expect,” Delilah added, delicately.
It was a tremendously kind thing to say.
“Aye,” Daphne croaked. Absurdly. After a long moment.
She could not look at Mr. St. Leger.
“We thank you for your kind words, Mrs. Hardy,” St. Leger said soberly.
“Thank you, Mr. St. Leger. Please, do have a seat. Dot should return shortly with the tea, and I expect you’ll both need it. Perhaps you would like a little brandy to take off the chill?”
“We are so grateful for your hospitality,” he said again. “Brandy would be most welcome.”
We.The word clanged against her ear. “We” had meant something else altogether to her once, something nearly sacred. It had belonged to her and someone else.
She was painfully reminded of the shelter and promise in the word. Because even though hearing it abraded her soul a little, she was oddly, pathetically grateful for the moment to be part of a “we.”
“How did the two of you meet?”
It was a perfectly reasonable question, one not typically met with the mute stares with which she and Mr. St. Leger presented them.
“Would you like to begin, my dear?” St. Leger prompted, gently.
My dear.Oh God. She should probably prepare herself for more of this. She would probably need to issue endearments of her own.
She hesitated.
Then she cleared her throat. “Well, we met on a night much like this one...”
She turned toward him, tentatively.
