Chapter Nine

The evening of the dinner arrived sooner than Daphne could have anticipated. She had expected to be overcome by nerves and worries, but surprisingly enough she felt cool and collected.

Another reason to be grateful to the Duke, she thought unhappily. Ever since their disastrous confrontation in his study, they had both retreated behind cool civility. There were no more curious questions aimed at him, or curious talks. She did not massage his shoulders and tuck him into bed, and neither did he rescue her from unwanted dance partners or take her for much-needed retreats on a cool balcony.

Daphne felt numb. Somewhere, beneath the surface, the ache was deep and unbearable. She knew that, but instead of embracing it, as she had in the case of her father, she did her best to ignore it. She tried to ignore that her first kiss had been taken by a man who lost his temper, and that the man had pushed her away, as though disgusted, and told her it should not have happened, that he was sorry it did in the first place. It was a pain that threatened to consume her.

She had more than enough to worry about at the moment.

“Can I help you with your jewels, m’lady?”

That, Daphne thought waspishly, was one of her worries.

Darcie was at her side, from the moment she awakened until the moment she put her head down. There was no relief from her constant presence, and it was driving her to distraction. Daphne knew she was just being overprotective because of what had happened on her birthday, but enough was enough.

“No, but I thank you, Darcie,” she murmured as she slid the glittering diamonds on her ears.

Although Daphne was not vain by nature, she knew that she was well coifed for the evening. She had chosen to wear a ball gown of pale pink. It had a daringly low bodice that revealed much more of her bosom than she was comfortable with. It had glittery crystals sewn throughout the frothy material so that it would catch the light. She had chosen to wear her mother’s diamonds with it, a delicate necklace that hugged her throat in a pattern of springtime flowers and matching earrings that drooped from her ears in a shocking shine of icy glitter. A rope of diamonds had been wrapped around her waterfall of curls.

If she had been a vindictive woman, she would have hoped that the Duke would look at her and feel remorse for what he had pushed away. Of course, Daphne was not at all vindictive, and did not waste her precious time thinking about such a foolish, weak man.

She was such a liar.

She picked up a sealed piece of parchment and smiled at Darcie.

“I am thankful for all you do for me,” she told the young girl kindly. “I do not mean to snap at you. I am merely nervous,” she lied placatingly.

“M’lady, do you wish me to take that to someone?”

Darcie said, nodding towards the parchment.

“This is just a list I made for Annalise,” Daphne told her. “I need to speak with her in any case, Darcie, before dinner.”

“Oh, but let me—”

“Darcie, why don’t you rest for a bit. You must be exhausted from taking such fine care of me.” It was an order.

She knew when she was cowed. Darcie bowed her head submissively. “Yes, my lady.”

Nodding, contented that she had taken care of the matter, Daphne walked out and to Annalise’s room, where she knocked subtly. Her lady’s maid answered, looking worried.

Annalise was glad to see her. “Well, what do you think?”

Daphne smiled a true smile, overjoyed. “Oh, Anna, I knew it would look splendid on you!”

Annalise was wearing the topaz Daphne had asked the dressmaker to use for her. It was, as most of Anna’s best gowns were, simply made, outlining her slim curves and stately form. Her hair was curled so that it trailed down her back.

She turned to Anna’s maid and smiled. “Go to Darcie and ask her to fetch my mother’s topaz.”

“Oh, Daph,” Annalise gasped.

“It will go perfectly with the gown,” Daphne promised.

She walked to Annalise, motioning her to sit before her vanity and subtly placed the parchment there, whispering, “Not yet.”

As soon as the maid had fetched the requested jewels, she was dismissed. Just to be careful, Daphne bolted the door behind her.

“I’m going to play dress up with you, Anna,” she teased.

Annalise broke the seal, curious.

“Read it, but don’t talk about it,” Daphne whispered.

While she read, Daphne played with her hair, pulling her curling hair up and back and securing it with gilded combs imbedded with enormous, glittering topaz. Next she clasped a necklace of the stones around her neck, and then the matching earrings. There was also a ring and bracelet, but Daphne would wait until the parchment was read before interrupting.

She stalked to the hearth, where kindling was laid but not lit. Annalise did not question her when she lit the fire, poking at it until it blazed.

When she walked back, Annalise was staring at her, lips pursed and pale-faced. Wordlessly, she handed the paper to Daphne.

“If I cannot speak to Chrys, please relay what was in that letter to her,” Daphne told her shortly.

Annalise slid bracelet and ring on herself. “Of course, Daphne.”

Daphne threw the paper into the fire and watched it fold into ash instantly. She kept the fire going until she was positive that not a single bit was left, and then quickly banked the fire.

Daphne, irritated at not being able to talk to Annalise about what had occurred to her when she had been painting, had written it all down in her bold script. Every detail and thought had been recorded, and then sealed and locked away until she could finally get a moment alone with her.

“I think perhaps we should attend tea with Lady Chrysanthe soon,” Annalise said calmly.

“Yes, I quite agree. Did I tell you Miss Stockholm will be in attendance?” Daphne turned the subject easily. “I think you will like her, Anna.”

“Oh? I hear she is not quite popular amongst our set,” Annalise murmured.

“Oh, but you will enjoy her, Anna. At least, I think you will. She has an avid interest in Egyptology and hopes one day to have the wherewithal to go to Egypt herself to excavate a tomb.”

Annalise sent her a look of disbelief. “She told you this?”

“No, of course not. She thinks I am one of those foolish, selfish girls who doesn’t like anyone who isn’t beautiful or rich. Like your brother,” she added nastily.

Annalise acted as though she had not heard the bite in her voice. “Oh, then there is purpose to your odd guest list? I hear everyone is talking about it, Daphne.”

“Oh, so much for being subtle then. Yes, there is a point, Annalise, the same point there has always been.”

Anna stood up, stretching out her muscles before heading towards the door. It was nearly time for the guests to arrive. “What point?”

“Why, only that people should be judged by who they are, not what they are.”

Annalise sighed. That was what she had feared, and once again Chrysanthe was right. She should not be surprised, of course. Daphne had always been a bit different. There were still so many things she did not understand.

As they headed downstairs, it occurred to Annalise that she hoped that nothing could embitter those deep convictions out of her friend. Daphne had been raised differently than she had. Perhaps it was because of that she had such deep convictions, or perhaps it was simply because her father had been a good, decent man and had taught her these things.

Annalise prayed she never lost that light. Beneath the icy demeanor and the cool beauty, Daphne still had a compassionate heart of the purest gold. The day that she lost that heart, it would be the end of her friend. If that ever happened, Annalise did not know what she would do.

“I am glad you finally realized she could be a threat,” Annalise whispered under her breath.

“Darcie? No, I do not think that is why,” Daphne countered.

“Be reasonable!”

“I am,” Daphne retorted placidly. “If you had seen how I fell apart…”

Annalise blanched, remembering her words. They had to hold her down, they had to drug her to keep her from digging up her father’s body. If she had watched Daphne descend into that much insanity, it would kill her.

“Darcie is the one who brought me back,” Daphne whispered loudly, as though reading her mind.

Annalise filed it away, vowing to tell that, and many more things besides, to her friend before the night was over.

The Lord and Lady Sinclair were the first to arrive, with Chrysanthe somewhat subdued behind them. Lord Sinclair took one look at Daphne and barked a brusque greeting and moved to greet the Duke and his sister with more warmth.

If Daphne was surprised by his greeting, she soon forgot it by the effusive warmth of Lady Sinclair. She was an older woman, but it was difficult to see it with her kindly face and thick mane of auburn hair piled serenely atop her head. She was still slim as a young beauty and if she had lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes, it spoke only of years of laughter, not of age.

“I am so glad you could make it, Lady Sinclair,” Daphne said, and meant it.

“It is good to see you, Daphne,” the older woman said, squeezing her hands. “We were so sorry to hear of your loss, so sorry. I remember your father with fondness. He once promised to show me his horses, you know.”

Daphne smiled as memories washed over her. “No, I did not know. I shall have to see that you have that tour someday, Lady Sinclair. I must admit I am more comfortable in the stable than in the ballroom.”

It was exactly the right thing to say. If there was any doubt whatsoever in Lady Sinclair’s mind that Daphne was guilty of indiscretions with her guardian, this comment wiped them away. She moved on to greet her host, not quite as warm with him as she normally would have been.

“We need to talk,” Chrysanthe told her as they clasped hands.

“Yes, we do. If I can’t get away, get with Anna,” Daphne whispered.

“You managed to talk to her?”

“Not quite. I found another way.”

Chrysanthe moved on, for The Stockholm family had just arrived. Miss Emily Stockholm was looking confused, as though she was not quite certain as to just why she was there. Her parents were glaring at Daphne.

For Daphne herself, she was soon feeling confused.

Almost everyone, aside from Chrysanthe and her mother, had greeted her warily and looked at her askance. She did not know what she had done to earn such rudeness, but it worried her nonetheless.

She made a point of not looking at the Duke as he suggested they all have a drink before dinner. She was glad he was taking over, because she suddenly felt too weak to do so. She also hoped that if she did choose to marry, the man would never, ever ask her to supervise events such as this. She did not like planning a dinner, much less a ball or some other outrageous event.

She was suddenly worried about the menu. Despite her earlier calm, she suddenly felt herself worrying over every little detail. Most often, meals were elaborate events served with thick sauces over every little thing. Daphne, who was unaccustomed to the rich foods, had planned an elaborate, although much more simple fare. What if they hated it? What if they thought it was an insult?

Her fears were not allayed during the meal. While everyone did seem to genuinely enjoy the food itself, she found herself completely ignored. She tried to overcome her worry and shyness and join in the conversation, but most often people spoke over her, or outright pretended she had said nothing at all.

By the time dinner was over and the ladies retired to the parlor while the men had their port and cigars, Daphne was practically in tears. She found herself sitting on a settee alone.

It was shock, more than anything else, she felt when Miss Emily Stockholm sat down beside her.

“Why did you invite me?” the young woman asked bluntly.

Daphne peered at her. Gone was the rudeness she had first encountered. Emily Stockholm was looking at her with an intensity Daphne had only seen equaled in her guardian. She had brilliant green eyes that were a trifle too intense for comfort.

“I thought you would be an interesting conversationalist,” Daphne told her quietly.

“I am a dowdy, bucktoothed bookworm,” Emily Stockholm snapped.

“I think you could be pretty,” Daphne told her honestly. “Besides, looks aren’t what is important. I heard you have an interest in Egyptology. I must admit, I am no scholar,” Daphne added, laughing. “That would be Annalise. Still, I have to say that such a hobby would be fascinating, to say the least.”

There were several moments of quiet. Then, “You are more complex than they think, aren’t you?”

Daphne smiled. She decided she liked Emily Stockholm then and there. “We all are, whether we admit it or not.”

“You have been quite the talk since you sent out invitations, Miss Davernay. They are not saying nice things, either.”

“From what I have heard, gossip is rarely kind, Miss Stockholm. What do they say?”

She did not answer at once. “You have a queer guest list.”

Daphne nodded, pleased. “Why should I desire to fill this house with affluent guests. If I want intimidating titles, I will go pick a fight with my guardian.”

That brought a smile to her lips. “I suppose so. How do you know Lady Chrysanthe and Lady Annalise so well?”

Daphne grinned. It was not quite the thing for a young debutante to smile so widely in polite company, but she could not help it. The memories were good ones. She told her how the three of them had gone to school together and went into rather livid detail of a few of their most mischievous antics. Soon, Miss Stockholm was grinning with her.

Annalise collapsed beside her so the three of them were rather cramped. “What’s the joke?” she demanded.

“I was just telling Emily about some of your failed experiments at school,” Daphne told her in a mock serious voice.

“None of my experiments failed,” Annalise sniffed. Her eyes were glinting with humor.

“Oh, so you never blew up that rat?” Daphne inquired mildly.

“I did not blow up a rat.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I merely miscalculated.”

“What would Chrysanthe say?” Daphne pushed.

Annalise’s shoulders slumped. “That I blew it to pieces. She reckoned it took her a fortnight to get all the rat guts out of her hair.”

Emily Stockholm burst into giggles.

“Miss Stockholm, I hear you are quite the voice on ancient Egypt,” Annalise quickly turned the subject away from such embarrassing memories. “I, myself, have learned seventeen languages, but I fear Egyptian is not among them. Can you speak it?”

That, apparently, was just the opening Miss Stockholm needed to open up. Daphne rose so they would not be so cramped and happily noted how they were both soon enthralled with a conversation of Egypt mythology and fact.

Daphne looked around the room. Chrysanthe was speaking to another of the guests, Miss Dubois, a woman who had moved to England shortly before the great Terror had begun.

Lady Sinclair took her arm and strolled with her to an abandoned corner.

“You do not look happy, Daphne,” she murmured gently.

Daphne knew there was no use in denying Lady Sinclair. The woman had a keen mind and even sharper senses. It was one reason Daphne had always been half-awed and half-terrified of the woman. For whatever mischief Chrysanthe got herself into, her mother was always up to the task of getting her out of trouble.

“Everything has changed so quickly, Lady Sinclair. One moment I was still a child, and now I am a woman.”

“Daphne,” Lady Sinclair admonished. “Surely there is no truth to these abominations!”

“It is true that Papa was killed,” Daphne said slowly. She thought everyone knew that by now.

“Yes, Chrysanthe told me the truth of that,” the older woman said kindly. “But you said you are a woman now… Is there anything you would like to tell me?”

Daphne shook her head. A curl fell over her eyes and she blew it away. “I only meant that life was still so happy and carefree when my father was alive, and now it seems difficult, and I feel so confused all the time. Nothing I do seems right.”

“Your father should have brought you to town more often,” Lady Sinclair sniffed.

“Probably,” Daphne agreed warily. “Perhaps I would not feel so smothered if he had. I think I was made for the country.”

Lady Sinclair smiled sadly.

Just then, the men entered the room. Lord Sinclair peered around the room and, seeing the two of them huddled together, marched over, jerking Daphne away from his wife.

To his wife, he glowered. “What the devil are you speaking to her for?”

James was on a slow boil.

If the dinner was successful at anything, it was at alienating the very girl who had worked so hard to plan for it even more.

He was fed up with watching it. Even though Daphne was pretending he did not exist, he had no compunction at all at watching the glittering little angel. She had comported herself without flaw, dressing her best, greeting everyone with warmth and grace and, damn it all, pretending she did not notice the slights or the rude comments.

And that was only during dinner.

As soon as the ladies were out of hearing, the men had descended into gossip that was more suitable to old, bored women. If he had expected a thrilling conversation about politics, he was sadly let down. The men could not wait to slander Daphne Davernay. They seemed to forget that her own guardian was in the room.

Either that or they expected him to agree with them. Of them all, Lord Sinclair was the worst of the lot.

As he stepped into the study, and heard the furious voice of Lord Sinclair, James knew. He did not know how, but he just knew. Suddenly the room was cast into stark, unrelieved silence.

“You will kindly remove your hand from my ward,” James snarled dangerously.

Daphne stiffened at the sound of his voice. Lady Sinclair looked as though she wanted to weep.

Daphne felt every single eye on the room upon her. She knew she should turn around; say something witty and amusing to relieve the tense atmosphere. Blast him, every single time her guardian came near her every sensible thought fled from her head.

Luckily for Chrysanthe’s father, he released her at once. She was no longer the brunt of his anger. He turned his short, boxer’s body to face the taller, leaner, and certainly younger form of the Duke.

“You will not address Miss Davernay with such malice in the future, Lord Sinclair,” James told him with barely suppressed rage.

“I won’t, will I?” He balled up his fists.

Sense drove her. Daphne marched to the center of the room and said loudly, perhaps too loudly, “Lady Chrysanthe, I have not heard you play in a long time. Would you grace us?”

Chrysanthe, captivated by the scene, blinked at Daphne. “Play?”

Daphne nodded at the pianoforte she had brought in, begging with her eyes. Thankfully, Chrysanthe gave her one pitying look and stood up.

“My pleasure, Daph.”

Hold your head high, a voice deep within her ordered. Do not let them think they have beaten you. Mindlessly, Daphne obeyed, choosing an empty seat, far from everyone else, in a corner. She blinked once, twice, three times, praying to hold the tears at bay. If she could just hold it in a few more hours, it would be all right. Just a few more hours.

Blessedly, Chrysanthe began to play, first with an achingly morose ballad that soon swept into a jaunty march. Daphne looked around. Almost everyone was riveted to Chrysanthe now. She saw her guardian sitting beside Annalise. Lord Sinclair was across the room, keeping away from anything that was remotely connected to Daphne.

Lady Sinclair dragged a seat over and sat next to her once more. Daphne opened her mouth to beg her not to, but Lady Sinclair was not to be denied.

“I apologize for my husband’s churlish behavior, Daphne,” she murmured. “I never thought he would be so outlandish. After all these years, and I still have not taught him to act the gentleman.”

Daphne nodded, tight-lipped.

“Chrysanthe has not played in some time. I often forget her talent.”

“She is skilled,” Daphne agreed.

They listened in tense silence for several moments. Chrysanthe burst into a loud overture.

“Lady Sinclair, what is this about?” Daphne asked quietly.

Chrysanthe’s mother did not pretend to misunderstand. “Daphne, I am sure you have heard how a rumor can bring about a girl’s ruin.”

“So there are rumors about me?” she astutely guessed. “That explains a lot. I also take it Lord Sinclair believes these lies?”

“Then they are not true?” It was almost a sigh of relief.

“I would guess not, but perhaps you should tell me.”

“Most are just jealous slaps,” Lady Sinclair murmured. “People do not understand how a daughter of a mere baron could become bosom friends with such affluent friends, or how you came to be the ward of one of the wealthiest and most powerful dukes in all England and her provinces.”

Daphne sent her a baleful look.

“Then there is the jealousy of your personal wealth.”

Daphne inhaled sharply.

“There is some supposition that you and Duke of Cheney, ah, have a special friendship.”

Each truth was a barb that struck deep. The last was a slap, painful and sharp. She did not know what was worse, that people thought this of her, or that the idea of becoming his lover was not nearly so offensive as it should have been.

“Anyone who could believe such a thing, of him or me, surely does not know either of us at all.”

“Very true,” Lady Sinclair agreed simply.

“The Duke of Cheney is a man of honor, Lady Sinclair. If he ever did engage with such an abomination with a young girl, he would see right by her. Even I know that!”

“Yes.”

“As for the rest…” Daphne broke off, gasping for breath. She felt as though she had run a mile, so hard was her heart pounding.

“As for the rest,” she continued painfully, “...it is hardly so mercenary. When I was a child, I nearly drowned. Annalise’s brother saved me before my father could reach me. He saw how he protected me and saw to my safety when everyone else, including your husband by the by, merely contented to sit and watch. Perhaps that is the reason he desired such a protector for me should he die prematurely.”

Lady Sinclair quivered in her seat. Though she did not betray one whit of emotion, though she stared intently at the fiery fall of her daughter’s hair, it was almost all she could do not to embrace Daphne and pull her to her breast to comfort.

“As to my inheritance, I cannot say for certain just why my father set things up as he did. I had no knowledge until the will was read. I could only guess that he wanted to protect me from fortune hunters, as his grace calls them. He would not leave me unprotected as my uncle Jon did to his wife.”

“I understand, Daphne. Please know that whatever anyone else here believes, I could not.”

Daphne exhaled sharply. “Thank you for that, my lady. I did not know anyone could be so spiteful.”

Lady Sinclair’s lips twisted sadly.

“Welcome to London.”