When Only a Rake Will Do (11 page)

As Brendon had instructed before sending her back into the Wittingham ballroom, Daphne was seated at one of the small outside tables in front of
Button’s
, one of the fashionable café’s scattered along Park Lane, two days later.  Glancing about, her heart was racing as she anxiously scanned the surrounding area, for having assured her that he would handle all of the details regarding their upcoming assignation, she knew only that she was there to receive further instruction in some form or another.

She’d brought Charlotte along with her, having enticed her sister with the promise of a flavored ice, followed by a visit to one of the nearby booksellers.  And thank goodness she had, for her sister’s non-stop chatter was a welcome distraction.

“And Mr. Dickens said that my posting has improved tremendously,” Charlotte said then, continuing with the summary of her latest riding lesson.

“That’s wonderful,” Daphne replied with an encouraging smile.  “Not too much longer and you shall be ready to accompany me to the park, I should think.” 

Charlotte beamed and likely would have continued on with the summation of her lesson, but the waiter arrived then, carrying a small tray with two scrumptious-looking ices in glass stemmed desert dishes, one strawberry and the other pineapple.

“Here you are, Miss,” he said, setting the strawberry ice before Charlotte.  “And for you, my lady,” he said, reaching for the pineapple-flavored ice.  However, unlike with Charlotte’s dish, he discreetly placed a small white envelope beneath hers as he set it upon the table in front of her.

“Thank you,” Daphne murmured, flicking a self-conscious glance toward the envelope as the waiter bowed politely and took his leave.  Then, while Charlotte’s attention was focused upon the tasty treat in front of her, she surreptitiously slid the envelope out from underneath her dish and slipped it into her reticule.

It wasn’t until Charlotte was busily combing the shelves of the children’s section within a neighboring bookstore, however, that Daphne was able to slip the envelope from her reticule and break open the wax seal. 

Removing the single sheet of paper she quickly scanned the first paragraph of the hand-written note, her eyes widening in surprise, for Brendon had arranged for them to share not just a brief, solitary encounter as she had expected, but rather an entire weekend together.  It was altogether shocking, slightly unsettling and deliciously spine-tingling at the same time. Good heavens, a weekend with Brendon Leighton she thought in wonder, it was more than she could have ever hoped for. 

As she continued to read, however, she received another, far more discomfiting surprise, for apparently Brendon had enlisted the help of an accomplice to aid in their assignation, the Dowager Marchioness of Roxleigh.  And while she couldn’t begin to fathom why Lady Roxleigh would have agreed to assist them in such a scandalous endeavor, she could only assume that Brendon knew what he was doing.

“Is something wrong?”

Startled, Daphne looked up from the note to see Charlotte standing in front of her, eyeing her curiously.  “No, of course not.  I was merely woolgathering,” she replied with an overly bright smile.  Folding up the note, she returned it to her reticule.  “Did you find something that interests you?” she asked then, noting the book Charlotte was holding.

Charlotte nodded.  “It’s called
Memoirs of a London Doll, Written by Herself
,” she said, holding the book aloft for Daphne to see.  “It’s about the life of a wooden doll named Maria Poppet.”

“Oh, well that sounds fascinating.  Shall we purchase it then?”

Charlotte’s eyes lit up.  “May we?”

“Yes of course,” Daphne replied.  “And we shall read it together as soon as we get home.”

Charlotte clutched the book to her chest, her expression jubilant.

*****

Six days later, as Daphne stood watching out the parlor window, her already racing heart began to beat even faster as the Dowager Marchioness of Roxleigh’s elegant traveling coach, accompanied by two liveried outriders, came into view and then drew to a stop along the pavement out front. 

Seconds later, Hughes appeared in the doorway.  “My lady, the Roxleigh coach has just arrived,” he announced. 

Having purportedly accepted an invitation to spend the weekend with Lady Roxleigh at her country estate, Daphne’s imminent departure had been anticipated by their butler as well as the other members of their household.  “Thank you, Hughes.  I shall be along directly,” she managed to get past the sudden lump in her throat. 
Oh dear lord what have I got myself into, for surely this is madness
, she thought with a sudden sense of panic.

“Very well,” he replied with a nod.  “I shall have Henry see to the loading of your traveling cases.”

As Hughes retreated, Daphne closed her eyes and spoke silently to herself. 
Don’t be a coward, Daphne!  You wanted this, remember.  You still want this.  Don’t allow your nerves to get the best of you.  Not now. 
Taking a deep breath she opened her eyes and with sheer force of will compelled her feet to move in the direction of the doorway. 

Having said goodbye to Charlotte just a few minutes earlier and to Thomas the night before, there was nothing to delay her as she made her way to the foyer, out the front door and along the paved walk to the waiting vehicle.  Then, grasping the fabric of her apricot-colored, muslin skirt in one hand, she allowed the waiting footman to hand her into the conveyance.

“Good morning, Lady Roxleigh,” she greeted courteously as she settled onto the rear-facing velvet-covered seat across from the marchioness. 

“Good morning, my dear,” the older woman returned, her expression amiable as she regarded Daphne. “How are you this morning?”

“Very well thank you,” Daphne responded evenly, even though it felt as if a dozen butterflies had suddenly taken flight in her stomach.  “And you, my lady?”

“Right as rain, dear.  But Sebastian here,” she said, stroking the fluffy white coat of the feline lying on the seat next to her, “is a bit out of sorts, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Daphne replied, eyeing the blue-eyed cat as he lazed idly upon the red, velvet-covered seat cushion. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing a healthy dose of country air can’t remedy,” the marchioness said, scratching him behind the ears.  “He’s never particularly cared for city life,” she continued.  “But I simply cannot bear to leave him behind when I come to Town.”  

“That’s quite understandable,” Daphne said with an empathetic smile.  And indeed she did understand, for her younger sister Charlotte had delayed their most recent trip to London by an entire day when Whiskers had turned up missing less than an hour before their scheduled departure.  Thomas had been beyond frustrated, of course, but with Charlotte in tears he’d reluctantly set the entire household to the task of locating the wayward feline.  By the time Whiskers had been located, however, it was near dusk and their leave-taking had to be rescheduled for the following morning.  

“My lady, may I ask you something?” Daphne said then, not wishing to leave the question hanging awkwardly between them for the duration of their journey.

The marchioness regarded her with a knowing expression.  “You wish to know why it is that I have agreed to assist you and Brendon in this delicate matter.”

“Yes, if I may be so bold.”

“Of course, dear,” she replied with a warm smile.  “I would be curious too, if I were you.  And the truth is that I am doing this for two reasons, the first being that I owe Brendon an enormous debt of gratitude, a debt that I will never truly be able to repay.”

Daphne sat quietly, waiting for Lady Roxleigh to continue.

“Roxleigh Park, our family’s country estate, borders the Duke of Sethe’s property to the west, and being neighbors our families have been closely acquainted for generations.  As such, I have known Brendon since he was just a babe in leading strings.  In fact, the dear boy is much like a son to me, for he and my youngest child, Andrew, were born just months apart and practically grew up in each other’s pockets.”

“Oh, I see,” Daphne replied, though in truth she was still puzzled, for it hardly seemed reason enough for the marchioness to do something so iniquitous as this.

“The reason that I do this, however, and the reason that I would do anything for Brendon, goes far beyond his close personal relationship with my son or with me,” the marchioness explained as her expression turned serious.  “You see, dear, many years ago Brendon saved my darling Andrew’s life. 

The declaration took Daphne by surprise.  “Saved his life?”

“The boys were just eighteen then, both of them wild and adventurous and so full of life,” she expounded.  “But then Andrew became ill and suddenly everything changed.  A bacterial infection, the local physician determined.  At first we weren’t overly concerned, confident the illness could be treated, but unfortunately Andrew didn’t respond to any of the medications the physician prescribed and all too soon the situation became quite perilous.”

Daphne watched as the marchioness’ expression darkened. 

“Desperate to save our son, my husband immediately summoned some of the finest medical doctors in the country to Andrew’s bedside.  And while they were eventually able to treat the infection, in one respect it was too late.   Permanent damage had already been done, you see, as the infection had caused blindness in both of Andrew’s eyes.”

“I’m so sorry,” Daphne said softly.

“Andrew was devastated, of course, as was the entire family.  But there was joy as well, for Andrew was alive and for that we were all so very thankful,” she said with a thoughtful smile.  “Although regrettably, we did not yet know just how adversely the loss of his sight would affect our son.”  She reached down then, stroking her hand back and forth along Sebastian’s fur.

“We brought in specialists to help him adjust to his condition, but much to our dismay Andrew would have none of it,” she continued.  “Alas, whilst he had survived the illness, our son had lost his will to live,” she divulged, shaking her head at the memory.  “We, his family as well as his friends, all tried desperately to rouse him from his despondency, but our efforts were to no avail.  And as the days went on, his physical health as well as his mental well-being began to rapidly deteriorate.  Already enfeebled by the infection, he grew weaker and weaker with each passing day, refusing the bulk of his meals, refusing to leave his bed, refusing visitors and refusing even to speak at times.”

As she listened, Daphne could only nod sympathetically.

“But despite Andrew’s objections, Brendon, the dear boy, continued to visit nearly every day.  Then one morning he strode through the front door with a look of purpose on his face that I had not seen before.  Promptly shutting himself in Andrew’s bedchamber, he exited a few minutes later with my son slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Seeing that, I’m sure you can imagine both our surprise and dismay,” the marchioness said with a shake of her head. 

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, with my darling Andrew alternating between calling for help and bellowing obscenities the likes of which I had never heard, I immediately made to intercede, but my husband, bless him, knew better than I and stopped me from interfering.  And though it was one of the most difficult things I had ever done, I stood by with my heart in my throat and allowed Brendon to carry my son outside and deposit him into his waiting carriage.”

Daphne regarded the marchioness in astonishment, shaking her head in silent wonder as she envisioned the shocking scene.

“The days following their departure were agonizing, not knowing where my son was or how he fared even.  But then, when they returned some ten days later, I had only to look at Andrew’s face as he stepped from the carriage to see that Brendon had given me my son back.” 

“How ever did he do it?” Daphne asked with wide-eyed curiosity.

“To be perfectly honest, my dear, I haven’t the slightest notion, for neither Andrew nor Brendon has ever spoken of what went on while they were away.”

“Truly?”

The marchioness shrugged her shoulders.  “What mattered was that Andrew had returned with an entirely new outlook on life.  He accepted his condition, began working with the specialists we’d hired and started making plans for his future,” she said with a smile.  “It took some time, but Andrew is now happily married, the father of two beautiful children and the director of The Royal School for the Bind in Liverpool,” she stated proudly.

“Oh how wonderful.”

“It is indeed.  So you see dear,
that
is reason that I would do anything for Brendon, including this.”

Daphne smiled and nodded in understanding.  “And the second reason?”

“The second reason,” she said with a tender smile, “is because I sympathize with your plight.”

“You do?”

Lady Roxleigh tipped her head in affirmation.  “While I was fortunate enough to have been in love with my husband when we wed, my dear mother didn’t share the same fate.  In fact, her situation was much like yours.”