A DAUGHTER RETURNS
Aquarter past eleven o’clock in the evening at Norwick House
After poking her head into several rooms in search of her mother, Danielle practically tip-toed into the parlor upon discovering the countess ensconced in her favorite settee. The light from a roaring fire cast the room in a comfortable glow, its warmth welcome after spending time out in the chilly night air.
“Did you miss me?” Danielle asked brightly as she joined Clarinda Brotherton Fitzwilliam in front of the fire.
Clarinda glanced up, her expression suggesting she’d been deep in thought. “Why, not at all.”
“What do you mean you didn’t miss me?” Danielle asked as she regarded her mother with a curious expression. She had expected being kidnapped might result in some consternation at Norwick House.
Enjoying a cup of tea and her second biscuit after an especially quiet dinner, Clarinda glanced around the parlor as if she thought there might be someone else there. The interruption of her reverie by the youngest of her twin daughters had her shrugging. “Dahlia said you were having dinner with a friend. I do hope it went well,” she replied.
Danielle blinked. “It did, actually. The meal was exceptional, as was the company,” she replied. “That is, until Father showed up. Otherwise, I might still be there.”
The countess regarded her with alarm for a moment. “He was there? The ghost?”
Rolling her eyes, Danielle joined her mother on the settee. “I have seen him far too many times on this day,” she complained. “But no more. Once I’m married, I’m quite sure he’ll leave me alone.”
“Probably,” her mother agreed, helping herself to another biscuit as if she hadn’t comprehended all of what her daughter had just said. “Speaking of marriage, I paid witness to a most romantic proposal today.”
Danielle’s eyes widened. “Oh? Who?”
Clarinda allowed a brilliant smile. “Sebastian Peele proposed to Lady Vivian today. At Weatherstone Manor. She had a faint in the front salon, and he swooped in and caught her and then announced that they would be wed. Weatherstone will formally announce it Tuesday night during the ball.”
“Finally,” Danielle said under her breath, half-wishing a proposal had been witnessed for her sister and Anthony. Vivian Wentworth, the only daughter of the late Earl of Roth, was at least three years older than Danielle, and the exceedingly prim and proper miss had always held a candle for the very tall and very improper viscount and heir to the Weatherstone earldom, despite his reputation for acts of derring-do and racing coach-and-fours in the middle of the night.
“Tuesday night’s ball will be filled with announcements of marriages and betrothals,” Clarinda went on. “It would be so wonderful if Dahlia and Anthony could be included, don’t you think?”
Boggling, Danielle shook her head. “Didn’t she say anything about it at dinner?”
Clarinda gave a start. “Why, she wasn’t here for dinner,” she replied. Her brows furrowed. “Wasn’t she with you?”
For a moment, Danielle wasn’t sure how to respond.
Had Dahlia spent the evening with Anthony? Had Dahlia dined with him under the pretense that she was with her? “Oh, of course,” Danielle replied with a wave. “How could I forget?”
“Your hat certainly didn’t provide you with any protection from the sun today,” Clarinda remarked. “Why, you’re cheeks are especially flushed.”
Danielle blinked, realizing that neither her hat—or rather the way in which it had been pinned to her hair—nor the sun, had anything to do with the color her face displayed. “I suppose they are,” she replied. “Seeing as how I accepted Andrew Comber’s marriage proposal.”
Clarinda’s eyes widened. “What? When was this?”
“After the garden party,” Danielle replied. “He proposed at least three times today,” she added with a shrug. “Father gave him permission. And Uncle spoke with him as well, apparently sometime before the party,” she explained. “We’re going to Greece and to the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies for our wedding trip. Maybe as soon as next week, if Andrew can secure a special license.”
Her mother stared at her in awe. “Well, that’s... that’s wonderful,” she whispered. “Whatever had you changing your mind? Only a few days ago, you announced you were going to be a spinster,” she accused.
Danielle considered telling her mother all about the kidnapping but thought better of it. “Andrew was very insistent,” she replied. “And Father was on his side.”
Clarinda beamed in delight. “I’m so happy for you,” she said as she pulled her daughter into a hug. “Andrew has loved you his entire life—at least, that’s what his mother has said—and I rather think you adore him, too, do you not?”
Dipping her head, Danielle remembered that afternoon and the revelations she had experienced with Andrew. “I love him, Mother,” she admitted.
“Of course you do. And you’ll love running your own household,” Clarinda said, pulling away slightly. One of her brows furrowed. “Where will you live?”
Grinning, Danielle said, “A townhouse in Bruton Street. It belongs to the Aimsley earldom, and Lord Aimsley has given it to Andrew. For us to live in.”
“Why, that’s an exceptional address,” her mother remarked. “You’ll be close to Berkeley Square.” She suddenly sobered. “Now what’s this about leaving for Greece next week?” Her joy seemed to disappear with her query.
