Patrica Rice (22 page)

No one raised any objection to their leaving, and once outside the drawing room, Daphne sighed in defeat. Melanie glared at her accusingly.

“You knew Evan was alive! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Daphne shook her head, feeling a small ache forming between her eyes. “It was not my place to do so. Evan and Gordon had their reasons for keeping it a secret. I’m certain they’ll explain when the time is right.”

Melanie looked doubtful as voices rose in the study. “They are very angry. They’ll think I’m too young to understand. But I’m not too young. I’m old enough to be wed, aren’t I?”

Daphne managed a tired smile. “Men never think we’re old enough. We have to find other ways around them. I’m sorry that our trip to Bath has been postponed, but I believe the earl will be ready to go soon. Perhaps he will explain things if you ask.”

She knew she wouldn’t be there when they went. It would be back to her father’s house for her. Perhaps an invalid’s lot was fitting punishment for allowing herself to think she could manage her own life. She had grown so bold in the idea that she had all but thrown herself into a man’s arms to prove she was as much a woman as any. Perhaps her wits were to let after all.

Sending for Marie and parting from Melanie, Daphne set out for her pony cart. She couldn’t wait any longer in the hall, listening to the argument over her fate. She had no intention of marrying Evan out of obligation, but they weren’t in any humor to hear that yet. They could argue and explain and work things out until everyone was calm again. When they were ready to come to her, she would have her say.

Holding tightly to that thought, Daphne barely waited for Marie to settle in her seat before urging the pony into a canter. If nothing else, she had brought an end to the neighborhood Robin Hood. The news of Evan’s return would be all over the shire before nightfall.

Before she was scarcely out of the drive and on the road, a familiar figure stepped into her path. Marie squealed in fright, but Daphne brought the cart to a halt and gave the one-legged ruffian a chance to catch up.

“I heard some talk in the village, and Evan wasn’t in his room. I just wanted to make certain everyone was all right.” Rhys had tipped his disreputable hat before he spoke, but he made no other indication of servility as he boldly accosted his better.

Daphne did not find his attitude in the least odd any longer. She spoke with him as an equal and a friend. “He’s explaining things to the earl right now. I think Captain Rollings has come too close for comfort. You’d best warn the others.”

Rhys nodded, then cast her shadowed eyes a concerned look. “And you, Miss Templeton? Is there aught I can do for you?”

At this rare expression of sympathy from the cynical thief, Daphne had to smile. “Can you wave magic wands and make us perfect? If not, there really is nothing else you can do for me.”

Rhys shook his head. “You are already more perfect than any other lady of my acquaintance, and I think you know that. If I can ever be of service to you, please call on me.”

His gallant bow was not any more odd than his refined speech. Daphne thanked him and sent her pony on down the road. Rhys Llewellyn was an exceptional man. ‘Twas a pity he could not find a place among the landed gentry where he so obviously belonged, but he had no right to throw himself away on thieves, either. Still, she had more problems than she could deal with as it was. She didn’t need to borrow more.

As she turned the pony cart up the drive to Aunt Agatha’s home, a coach and four rolled wildly down the hill in her direction, and she was forced to take the grass to avoid it. A shouted curse and a cry from the driver followed, and Daphne watched in amazement as the equipage swayed to a halt just beyond her. There was something vaguely familiar about that curse.

A sensible female would have taken to her heels and fled for safety from the madman
on the coach, but Daphne waited in curiosity as the door flew open and a compact figure leapt out, followed by a slower, sturdier one.

Rather than running to them in greeting, Daphne continued to stare in dazed recognition. This really could not be happening. No day could be as bad as this one. Surely whoever was in charge of punishment had meted out more than enough justice for one day.

“What in the name of all that is holy are you doing in that cart, daughter?” The sturdier man shoved forward to confront his frozen child.

“Father?” Questioningly, Daphne stared into the face of the man she had seen every day of her life until she turned nineteen. She had seen him briefly on holidays since then, but the distance between London and Gloucester was too great to cover frequently. She had not quite realized that distance was cut in half by her move to Devon. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” he exploded. “Can I not come to see the man my daughter intends to marry, even though she doesn’t have the respect to tell her own father? There is something havey-cavey about all this, and now your aunt’s addlepated servants tell me you’ve been gone all night and half the neighborhood’s out searching for you, and you come riding up like the Queen of May, if you please. And you want to know what
I’m
doing here?”

“Father, please.’’ The younger man put a steadying hand on his father’s shoulder. His parent’s voluble tirades were well known but not conducive to explanations.

Michael turned an expressive look to his sister. “Perhaps we ought to allow Daphne to return to the house and refresh herself before we bombard her with questions.”

“I would be grateful for that,” Daphne managed to murmur politely, if not actually gratefully. She was much too tired to think of explanations quite yet.

“Then get in the carriage with me and let your brother drive that dangerous contraption. I knew my sister was all about in her wits, but what she could be about by allowing you to—”

Daphne picked up her reins and adamantly refused to budge. “Leave off, Papa. I am in less danger here than you are if that’s William driving the coach. I’ll not be bullied and set upon like a child.”

Leaving her father ranting and raving and Michael to comfort him, Daphne urged the pony into motion. If Gordon was surprised at his grandfather’s overweening concern over their supposed marriage, she was doubly so by her father’s appearance. She really had not expected Michael to break the news without her permission. She had insisted on privacy. How could he abuse her trust so?

While the carriage was lumbering about, Daphne sent the pony into a sharp clip and reached the house first. She intended to wash and don fresh clothes before this interview. It would be lovely to have a few hours sleep, also, but she could see that wouldn’t be on the agenda any time soon. The ache behind her eyes grew a little fiercer.

She could hear her father’s roar from her room as she hastily undressed with the help of a disapproving Tillie. Imagining the confrontation should Evan come riding up to make his obligatory offer, she washed quickly, shuddering at the prospect. It was one thing to reject the man who had compromised her when she was the only one affected. It was quite another under the stern eyes of father and brother.

By the time Daphne was done, had she a black gown to wear she would have worn it, so low had her spirits sunk. Instead, she found a particularly drab brown and pinned her hair in a coronet of braids rather than allow even a hint of curl to escape. She had set out to be a spinster and so she would be. Her father would have to see that somehow.

Wondering how on earth she would explain away her letter and Gordon’s fictitious suit, Daphne trailed down the stairway to her aunt’s front drawing room. There didn’t seem to be any feasible way of sending her family off before Evan arrived. Even should he take the time to rest first, they would still be here when he came. And she knew he would come. His sense of duty would not allow him to act otherwise.

Michael was staring out the front window at the rolling moor while her father sat edgily in Aunt Agatha’s favorite horsehair chair. He rose at Daphne’s appearance, giving her dowdy attire a scathing look.

“I sent you to London to dress like that? Where’s that yellow thing you had on? If you’re to wed a viscount, you ought to dress the part.”

“Papa, I’m not to wed a viscount.” Daphne sent her brother’s back a murderous look.

Michael turned in time to intercept it and gave an apologetic shrug. “Father was visiting when your letter arrived. A letter from you is such an auspicious occasion that I could not keep it from him without causing undue concern.”

Daphne sighed and sank down in the nearest chair. Never in her life had she ever done anything the least little bit improper until she met Evan Griffin. And her one attempt at doing anything just the tiniest bit out of the way had not only been caught out, but blown into a fiasco far out of proportion to the error. Never again would she try to be something she was not.

“I don’t suppose you took the time to find Robert Griffin before you came galloping out here?” she asked with resignation.

“Of course I did. He was at the club the night the letter arrived. He seemed amenable to the suggestion, but we made no definite plans. I thought it wisest to talk to you first.”

Daphne allowed the horror of this knowledge to slowly seep through her. Robert Griffin, the twins’ dangerous uncle, now thought she and Gordon were to be married.

Despite the heavy rain, Michael had had time to arrive from London. That meant Robert had had an equal amount of time to arrive. And the entire Griffin family was neatly ensconced in their home, all in one place. Could anyone be so devilish as to ...? Surely not. She stared wildly at her brother.

“What kind of man is he?” she demanded.

Michael looked startled. “I scarce know him, Daph. He’s older than I and belongs to a fast set that I have never aspired to. He did not cut me for my daring to intrude in his affairs. He even seemed vaguely amused. Why do you ask?”

Daphne rose and clasped and unclasped her hands as she paced the faded carpet. She ignored the vague ache in her leg as her thoughts tumbled about. Surely the twins knew the urgency of the situation, but they did not know that Michael had carried out his task with such alacrity. They might not even know the roads to London were open now. Caught up in their argument, they might not consider it until it was too late. And if Evan rode over here alone ...

It did not bear considering. As her brother and father watched her in amazement, she straightened her shoulders and started for the door. “We must notify the Griffins at once. If your horses are weary, I’ll send for Aunt Agatha’s.”

“Daphne Elaine! You come back here at once, do you hear me?”

Her father’s roar scarce made an impression as she went in search of someone to bring a carriage around. Perhaps she ought to just send a message. To unleash her father on the already disturbed Griffin household was not an act of kindness. But she acted on an intuition that she could not explain, even to herself.

Her father and Michael followed her into the hall, but Daphne was already calling for her bonnet and gloves, and the carriage that had just arrived with her family was now pulling up to the door once more.

Michael caught his sister’s elbow as she tied her bonnet strings. “What’s this all about, Daph?”

“It’s not for me to explain. Why don’t you and father rest and have some tea or something? I will be right back.” She could only try. It really did not matter if she failed to dissuade them.

“Rest!” her father roared behind them. “Do you think me some senile invalid that I need rest while my daughter gallivants about the neighborhood without so much as a chaperone?”

“Aunt Agatha is there. I’m certain she makes quite an adequate chaperone.’’ Daphne took the umbrella the servant handed her and started for the door.

“We’re coming with you!” Lord Thomas Templeton hurried after her and, shrugging his shoulders, his son followed in his footsteps.

Daphne did not try to speak as she stared, white-faced, out the carriage window as it traveled the lane she had just traversed. Perhaps she was just overwrought and seeing goblins in the shadows, but she could not help but search the hedgerows as they passed. Mayhap it would be better if Captain Rollings stationed his men around the Griffin estate, only she could think of no way of persuading him to do so.

None of this seemed quite real. Yet she could not imagine a man like Evan living the desperate life of a criminal in the woods without reason, nor Gordon allowing him to do so if he had not thought it safest. She had to trust the twins and warn them.

“Daphne, you will scare us half to death if you do not tell us what is wrong,” Michael said, intruding upon her reflections. His father’s stiff-lipped silence did not bode well, and he sent the older version of himself an anxious look.

“There is naught wrong,” Daphne replied absently. “I am quite fine, if rather annoyed.”

“Annoyed, she says. Ha!” Lord Thomas snorted
sotto voce.

Daphne ignored him. “I pray you will not cause a scene. The Griffins have suffered several hardships in past months, and tempers are not of the best. If you should make mention of my private confidence, I shall never speak to either of you again.”

“Havey-cavey, that’s what it is,” his lordship continued muttering.

“It does not sound quite the thing, Daph,” Michael objected. “Why should the viscount keep his suit a secret? Father is right. He has not conducted himself at all with honor.”

“Oh, do be quiet, Michael,” Daphne finally snapped, turning to face her stiff-laced brother. None of her family was of any great stature, but Michael was a well-looking man with an air of pride and self-assurance. That he was also so high in the instep that he couldn’t see the ground had always been the barrier between them, but she knew he meant well.

“I never said Gordon had proposed. I am certain when and if he wishes to do so that he will be all that is proper. But not now.”

She said it with such finality that they traveled the rest of the distance in silence.

Evan was just mounting his horse as the carriage rumbled up the drive. He halted his stride as he caught sight of Daphne’s face in the window. He handed the reins back to the stableboy as the reckless driver rocked the ancient equipage to a halt. He glanced at the surly, slouch-hatted coachman in surprise but hurried forward to assist Daphne.