Patrica Rice (15 page)

“Using you to draw Robert out and sending you away so you don’t become involved when we expose him. Come on, Evan, you know this is better than sitting here waiting for something to happen.” Rhys nudged Evan’s leg with his wooden stump.

“I know no such thing. You’ve become the rogue you mock, Llewellyn, to even consider involving a lady in this,’’ Evan growled.

“Well, then, we shall go to Gordon and see if he isn’t more reasonable,” Daphne said intractably. “I’m certain he will see the advantage in bringing you out of here as swiftly as possible.”

She made as if to rise, but a hard hand reached out to jerk her back. Evan glared at her, “Don’t you think he has enough on his mind without adding this mad scheme to it?”

“You don’t even know the scheme yet, Griffin. Don’t go up in the boughs until you’ve heard it out. We can be all that is discreet and send Miss Templeton and Miss Griffin away and corner the fox without any interference, providing we have the assistance of Mr. Templeton. And since it would be a rather unwitting assistance, I shouldn’t think that would be denied.”

Even Evan became curious, and with a sigh of defeat, he signaled for Rhys to continue.

Rhys took that as a signal to make himself comfortable. Sliding down the cave wall, he sat cross-legged before them like some pagan story-teller.

“Miss Templeton will write to her brother with private word of her betrothal to Lord Griffin. In the letter, she can explain there has been a bitter estrangement between the family and Robert, and she would like to bring peace to the family again. She can ask him to make the announcement of her marriage to Robert privately, before the public announcement, and see if he is willing to accept offers of amity.”

Rhys ignored Evan’s angry grumble and continued inventing his plan out loud. “Of course, by the time her brother receives the letter, Miss Templeton and Miss Griffin will have gone to Bath or somewhere. Miss Templeton, is your brother likely to act upon your request with any alacrity?”

“To see me married to a viscount? Do you have to ask?” Daphne answered wryly.

Rhys grinned. “Loving families are all alike. Will you do it?”

“How will you explain to her brother if Daphne doesn’t marry Gordon?” Evan asked irritably.

“There is some doubt that she won’t?” Rhys raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. The main concern is to give Robert an excuse to appear here in person. He’ll have to, if our theory is correct. He can’t risk this marriage happening.”

“But how will you stop him from hurting Gordon?” Daphne could follow the plan well enough to that point, but she couldn’t see how a ragtag band of thieves in the woods could protect a viscount in his mansion.

“We know his ways, Miss Templeton. You are not to worry about that. It is just for you to agree with the rest of it. Is there somewhere you can go and take Miss Griffin while we straighten this out?”

Evan didn’t even have to look at Daphne to know the signs of rebellion flashing in her glorious eyes. He caught her hand and squeezed it, causing her to turn that glare on him.

“That’s the only way I’ll consent to this charade,” he informed her. “Otherwise, I shall sit here and rot until Robert finds another scheme, and Gordon can turn gray with worry waiting to see where the next attack will come from.”

“That’s unfair,” Daphne muttered bitterly. “It is little more than blackmail, Evan Griffin.”

“You would do the same in my place,” he replied unrepentantly. “Do you mind deceiving your brother just a little, if deceit it is?”

“I do not want Gordon placed in a position where he feels obligated to marry should Michael and my father appear on his doorstep, which they are very likely to do. Perhaps I could just hint at the possibility of marriage in my letter, and indicate that reconciling the family would convince your grandfather of my suitability.”

Rhys grinned, and Evan gave her an admiring look. “Very clever,” Evan admitted. “But I expect Gordon won’t appreciate the finesse. Never mind that. Will you do it? And will you take Melanie with you when you leave?”

Daphne sighed and sat back in resignation. “It seems a very poor thing to do under the circumstances, but I suppose I am not precisely the swashbuckling type. I have an aunt in Bath at this time of year. Who is to explain all of this to Melanie and Gordon?”

“Miss Griffin needn’t know,” Rhys hastily intervened. “I’ll make it understood to his lordship so when you extend the invitation, he makes certain his sister agrees. How soon can you write your letters?”

They both waited on her anxiously. Oblivious to their stares, Daphne shrugged. “I shall do it tonight. I have always wondered what it might feel like to be a fiction writer.”

They looked relieved, but Evan’s voice revealed its concern as he reminded her, “No one must know of these plans. Robert is quite likely to have spies in every household.”

Daphne looked startled at the thought. “Spies? How perfectly horrible. He cannot be in complete need of money if he can go to that much trouble.”

“Little do you know the workings of the moneylenders, then. Before we trample your innocence any further, you had best leave to compose that letter. Then start packing your bag and saying your farewells. I want you out of here as soon as the letter is posted.”

Daphne rose reluctantly, brushing her skirts and wishing for some means of delay. She felt more comfortable in these woods with these outlandish men than she ever had in the houses of society. And she had just agreed to leave them to some deadly danger she could not even envision.

“I cannot be so forward as that. Aunt Agatha would question such speed and think she has offended me. And there would certainly be gossip over such impetuousness. Gordon will have to visit my aunt and ask if I will accompany Melanie to Bath. If he says she is not feeling well, that will give us excuse for haste.

“If we say the journey will be only a brief one,” she continued, thinking aloud, “it would require only the packing of a trunk or two. More than that, and the house will be in an uproar of washing and ironing and sorting and folding and it would be a week before we could get away.”

With a despairing curse, Evan eased himself upright until he towered over her. There was not an ounce of fear in her eyes as she gazed up to his undoubtedly disreputable visage.

He had caused field-hardened artillery men to shake in their boots when he turned his glare on them. Daphne Templeton merely stood there with moist lips partially open, tempting his kiss all over again.

His stifled groan had nothing to do with the pain in his shoulder, and Evan grabbed her hand as she readied to comfort him. “Go, at once. Buy a new wardrobe in Bath. Invent ailing relatives. Do anything, but take yourself out of here,” he commanded harshly.

Shoulders stiffening, she nodded curtly. “Of course. Who am I to intrude where I am not wanted?”

As she marched away, a slight youth ran to guide her.

Rhys sent his friend a speculative look. To his surprise, Evan’s shoulders shook with what very much appeared to be mirth. At this disrespectful treatment of Daphne’s obvious pain, Rhys clambered to his feet.

“How could you, you bastard? Just look at her! She’s offered to place her life and reputation on the front line for you, and you ... you impudent jackass, you laugh!”

Evan wrapped his arms protectively around his chest as the spasms of increased laughter sent shards of pain through his torn shoulder. He shook his head as he gasped, “Not intrude, she says!”

He wiped a tear from his eye with the back of his hand and let the memory of her proud stance ease the anguish ripping through him. “Not intrude where she isn’t wanted! Bigad, I have never met a more contrary woman in all my life.”

Rhys shot him a skeptical look, then glanced back to where Daphne had disappeared into the trees. However she had done it, she had turned his cynical, battle-hardened officer into a laughing, crying human being again. Perhaps it was fairy dust. Mayhap if he ever got out of these woods again, he would re-read his Shakespeare. He remembered a scene in
Midsummer Night’s Dream
...

Rhys shook his head. Evan might be a jackass, but he was no dunce. Things would start happening now.

* * * *

The rain began in earnest before Daphne returned to the house. Her aunt and maid scolded and ordered her to bathe and change before she could even begin the task of composing the letter.

As she soaked in the warm water, she realized she really would have to show the letter to Gordon before she posted it. It was very well and good to plan these things, but the carrying out of such wild schemes entailed a good deal more detail. She couldn’t embroil Gordon without knowing for certain that he approved.

Since speed was obviously of the essence, she hurriedly dried herself and dressed in the gown the maid held out for her. Then, left blessedly alone at last, she took up pen and paper and contemplated the words she could use to deceive her brother.

Michael would be in London by now. He had written he would be joining her there, but she had left before he could arrive. She hadn’t wanted to hear any more sermons about her unfilial behavior.

The difference in their ages had kept them from ever being close, but she was conscious of all his superior qualities. He had always been all that was respectful, proper, and dutiful, while she had always been rebellious, proud, and cynical to a fault. She didn’t need her flaws thrown in sharp relief by his proximity.

But Michael’s flawless character would undoubtedly lead him to rush to carry out her request, out of pity if nothing else. To find a husband for his invalid sister had been his intent when he had agreed to help Daphne escape to London.

If he thought she had enticed some obscure country nobleman into marriage, he would dance to her tune, then rush to investigate her prospective bridegroom. She could imagine him thinking she had fallen for some rogue who would steal her money and leave her cold.

Perhaps by praising Gordon’s virtues she could stave off any such precipitous journey. The task of forcing her pen across paper limited her praises to her usual terse minimum. Besides, Gordon would have to be shown the letter, and she could not embarrass him with too much flattery.

The request to talk to Robert she left to the very end, so Michael would remember it. It was difficult to convey her urgency, but just the fact that she had actually written should startle her brother into action.

By the time she had sanded the final version, the rain had returned to mist. With resolution, she sought out her aunt and requested the carriage to visit Melanie.

Melanie greeted her with open arms. The tedium of idling away a rainy day in the country loosed her already fluent tongue, and Daphne soon began to wonder if she would ever find the opportunity to speak to the viscount, let alone see him privately.

Gordon solved the dilemma for her. Coming from his office to discover Daphne’s visit, he sent Melanie in search of his new volume of Scott, then hands in pockets, he turned to face her.

“I have just spoken with Rhys, Daphne. He tells me you know all. I cannot approve, but I thank you for coming to Evan’s aid. He has never been one to sit still and wait for events to happen. I fear this masquerade of his is his most deadly escapade of all. I cannot wish you involved in it.”

Daphne relaxed. Evan always succeeded in making her angry and eager to throw things. Gordon was just the opposite. She smiled with relief and reassured him. “I cannot think I am involved enough. While he lies injured in the misery of this rain, I can do little. I am willing to do whatever it takes to restore him to his home. Did he tell you of the letter?”

Gordon sat beside her and took her hand. “Even the letter is asking much of you. I cannot feel it right to deceive your brother and compromise your reputation. If there were any hope… Could you ever think of me as...”

Hearing the sound of Melanie’s laughter floating down the hall, Daphne hastily retrieved her hand and produced the letter.

“It is only a very small deceit. Please look at it, if you will.” She hesitated, biting her lower lip before adding, “Perhaps you will recognize the address. My mother...”

She had to say it before Gordon could embarrass himself by making any sort of declaration. She did not know how much Gordon knew of her history, but she could not have him offering for her out of obligation.

She tried to make herself clear, “Please, forgive me for deceiving you, but I ...”

Gordon took her hand again and squeezed it, rising as he, too, heard his sister approaching. “I am well aware of your difficulty, Daphne, and it does not deter me in the least. Unfortunately, Melanie does. We will speak again soon.”

He looked up and greeted his sister with a smile, with the letter now safely concealed in his coat pocket.

All the way home, Daphne played and replayed his words. “Aware of your difficulty?” could mean anything. “Could you ever think of me as ...” What? Brother? Friend? Did she dare think: lover, husband? It was too preposterous. He couldn’t mean that. She daren’t believe it, or even think it. Not after all these years. Not after a few weeks of acquaintance. It was only wishful thinking.

Sighing, she sat back against the squabs and watched the rain rolling down the pane of glass. Somewhere out there a man very similar to the one she had just left sat in a miserable cave with his shoulder swathed in bandages staring at this same rain.

Why was it Evan she thought of as Gordon’s words of hope rang in her ears?

Chapter Twelve

‘The rain poured steadily throughout the night, and Daphne glanced worriedly to the road every time she passed a window the next morning. Aunt Agatha’s front drive had turned to a muddy river. What could the lane at the bottom of the hill look like? And how high had the river risen during the night?

Perhaps the letter hadn’t gone out in last night’s post. Gordon might have decided against mailing it. Or the weather could have been so bad he hesitated sending anyone out in it. But remembering Rhys working in the stables, Daphne felt inclined to believe otherwise. Rhys would have gone looking for Gordon and the letter as soon as she had left.