When Only a Rake Will Do (19 page)

Rising from her bed the following morning, Daphne noted the sliver of bright sunlight peeking through the closed draperies and knew that she couldn’t hide upstairs for much longer.  And as the elder Lady Chesterfield had announced the night before that she would be staying home with Amelia whilst the others attended the races, she’d thus been left without a plausible excuse to forgo the day’s outing.  Nevertheless, she decided to postpone the inevitable for just a bit longer by skipping breakfast, instead taking tea and toast with Amelia in her bedchamber rather than joining the others in the breakfast room. 

But of course she could only delay her appearance downstairs for so long.  And so, once she’d finished her light repast she returned to her room and with the help of one of the Chesterfield’s maids, began to make herself ready for the day.  Selecting a becoming day dress of buttercup-yellow muslin with short puffed sleeves, a square-cut neckline and sprigged with a profusion of tiny little flowers in varying shades of pastel blues and greens, she partnered it with a pair of stylish but sturdy, short, cream-colored kid leather boots.  Then, with the young maid’s help, she secured the front portion of her hair back with a set of tortoiseshell combs and then intertwined the loose curls that fell down her back with a yellow satin ribbon.

“Don’t forget this, my lady,” the obliging maid said as Daphne rose from the vanity seat a few moments later, grabbing the matching sunbonnet from a nearby chair and holding it out to her. “You wouldn’t want to ruin your lovely complexion with too much sun.”

“Quite right,” Daphne replied with a gracious smile as she took the bonnet and situated it atop her head. “Thank you, Anna.”

“Enjoy your day, my lady,” she replied cheerily as Daphne turned toward the door.

As she made her way down the stairs Daphne could see that the others were all gathering in the foyer, preparing to depart for the races.  Not surprisingly her gaze strayed to where Brendon stood near the front door, looking as handsome as ever in a dark-brown, fashionably-cut jacket and coordinating buff-colored trousers.  He looked up then, catching her eye.  She gave him a slight smile before quickly turning her gaze elsewhere, for the last thing she needed was for him or anyone else to notice her devouring him with her eyes like the silly, love-struck fool that she was.

“Daphne, good morning,” Tiffany greeted as she approached from the opposite side of the hall.

“Good morning,” she replied, grateful to have her attention diverted as she descended the final steps to the marble floor.

“We missed you last night,” Tiffany stated with a warm smile as she reached forward to squeeze Daphne’s hand affectionately.  “But it was so sweet of you to keep Amelia company.”

“It was my pleasure,” she responded, despite her guilty conscious.  “I’m only sorry that she and the dowager countess will have to miss the races today.”

“Yes, it’s a shame.”

“Not to worry.  Mother doesn’t mind, as she has never been overly fond of the races anyhow,” Alex said with a light, dismissive gesture.  “And as I told Amelia last night, there will be many more racing weekends to come.”

“I think she is far more disappointed that she won’t be able to spend time with Lord Haywood than she is about having to miss the races,” Lizzie stated with a cheeky grin.

“Yes, I would imagine that you are correct on that account,” Alex replied with a slight frown, as both Brendon and the Duke looked on in amusement.

“Perhaps we should invite Lord Haywood to dinner this evening,” Tiffany suggested, turning to her husband.  “As long as Amelia stays off her ankle there is no reason she shouldn’t be able to join us for the evening meal is there?”

Alex shrugged.  “No, I suppose not.”

“Excellent, that’s bound to cheer her up.”

“May we invite Lord Palmerston to dinner as well?” Lizzie asked then, with a hopeful expression.

Alex heaved an audible sigh, which in turn caused his wife to hide a grin behind her hand.   “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Splendid,” Lizzie stated with a look of joyful satisfaction upon her pretty face.

“Yes, but only if Lord Haywood agrees to attend as well,” Tiffany asserted.  “For it would be unfair to Amelia otherwise.”

Lizzie nodded her head.  “Agreed.”

Alex merely rolled his eyes.  “Fine.  Now, if that’s all settled, can we be off?” he asked a touch gruffly.

As they headed to the door, Tiffany leaned closer to Daphne.  “My poor Alex,” she whispered in an affectionate, yet amused tone, “though he’s loathe to admit it, it’s difficult for him to accept that his sisters are no longer little girls, but young ladies with gentlemen suitors.”

Daphne grinned.  “I imagine it must be rather disconcerting.”

“Indeed.  It’s one of the many trials of being an older brother, I suppose,” Tiffany agreed.  “I would expect that Thomas feels the same way about you.”

If only that were true.
  In fact, Thomas did little to disguise his eagerness to hand her over to Blackburn so that he could get his hands on the additional funds he’d been promised.  “Yes, I suppose so,” she responded, struggling to maintain her smile as they exited the house.

Stepping onto the front drive moments later, they advanced toward the waiting coach, entering the vehicle one by one, first Lizzie and then Tiffany.

Daphne stepped up into the vehicle next, eyeing the space next to Tiffany with a dubious expression.

“Perhaps you should sit on the other side,” Tiffany suggested with a rueful grin, for with her and Lizzie’s full skirts spanning nearly the entire width of the coach, there was scarcely enough room for one of the men to sit upon the remaining portion of the seat.

Daphne grinned back.  “Yes, I believe so.”

“Taking up an inordinate amount of space is just one of the prices we women must pay for the fashions of our time,” Lizzie said laughingly as Daphne settled herself onto the seat cushion on the opposite side of the coach.

As Daphne smoothed her skirts, it was Brendon who entered next, taking the seat next to her, and then Nicholas followed, taking the seat beside Brendon, leaving Alex to squeeze himself into the small, empty space beside Tiffany.

Not surprisingly it was a bit of a tight squeeze on her side of the coach as well, for Brendon and Nicholas were both large men.  And while Daphne scooted herself as close to the vehicle’s outer wall as she could, Brendon’s shoulder and muscled thigh were pressed firmly against hers as the door swung closed and two of the Chesterfield’s liveried footmen ascended to their perches at the rear of the coach.

“Perhaps we should have taken two vehicles after all,” Tiffany said, her tone apologetic as she surveyed the cramped interior of the coach.

“Don’t be silly, it isn’t that bad.  Besides, we’ve only a short distance to travel,” Lizzie stated reassuringly.  “I’m quite certain that we shall all make the journey none the worse for wear,” she continued with a cheery expression.

“Quite so.  Traveling in such close quarters with three of the loveliest ladies in all of England certainly won’t draw a complaint from me,” Brendon professed with a rakish grin, causing everyone else to smile as well.  Truth be told, however, being so close to Daphne was actually discomfiting as hell, for the faint aroma of her delicately-scented perfume was already invading his senses, reminding him of the countless times he’d trailed his nose ever so lightly along the length of her neck, breathing in her deliciously unique scent time and time again until it became, as it was now, an integral part of his memory.

To distract himself, he turned his attention to Alex and Tiffany, engaging them in a discussion regarding the upcoming renovations they had planned for their London home.

As the coach picked up speed, bouncing and swaying as it left the relatively smooth gravel drive and entered onto the rougher dirt road, it became increasingly difficult for Daphne to ignore her body’s reaction to Brendon’s nearness.  She tried to think of something else, anything else, but with each bump in the road his thigh invariably brushed against hers, the sensation triggering a memory of their naked limbs rubbing against one another as they lay intertwined within a tangle of sheets.  Clasping her hands together tightly in her lap, she turned to the window, concentrating her gaze on the passing scenery as she tried not to focus upon the all too familiar heat slowly unfurling in the pit of her stomach.

When their coach reached its destination some twenty minutes later, the Newmarket course was already bustling with activity as the first of the day’s races was set to begin within the next hour.  Thus they, along with the two footmen who were now toting a large wicker basket filled with several bottles of wine and a variety of foodstuffs, were quick to leave the vehicle to the driver’s care as they made their way into the crowd, walking in the direction of the private viewing stand that Alex had reserved for them.

Moving through the bustling crowd, Lizzie looped her arm through Daphne’s as they followed a few steps behind the rest of the group.  “Isn’t this exciting,” she exclaimed. 

“It is,” Daphne agreed.  And indeed it was, for with hundreds upon hundreds of spectators gathered in groups and along the edges of the track, bookmakers calling out odds, young stable lads running to and fro and numerous vendors hawking their wares, the atmosphere was teeming with excitement and anticipation. 

“Here we are,” Alex said a few minutes later as they neared the row of elevated viewing stands.  “Number six.”

Climbing the short flight of stairs, Daphne was pleased to see numerous chairs and several small tables scattered about as she stepped onto the large, shaded platform. 

“Oh look, we’ve a marvelous view of the finish line,” Tiffany said as she stepped toward the wooden railing that fronted the space.

Daphne followed, getting her first good look at the infamous Rowley Mile as she stopped to stand beside Tiffany.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

Daphne nodded.  “It certainly is.”

“It’s unfortunate that Ashleigh couldn’t be here to join us today,” Tiffany commented, “for she is assuredly the most ardent racing fan among us.” 

“Truly?”

“She is indeed,” Brendon attested good-humoredly as he came to stand behind them.  “My sister-in-law has always been horse mad,” he continued with a grin.  “In fact, Nicholas gifted her with her very own racing thoroughbred just last year, though Wind Dancer isn’t entered in any of this weekend’s races.”

“My, that’s quite a gift,” Daphne replied.

“My brother spoils her incessantly,” Brendon laughed.  “Though he did put his foot down when she told him that she wanted to disguise herself as a lad and serve as Wind Dancer’s jockey.”

Daphne’s eyes went round.  “She didn’t?”

“Oh yes.  Though it wasn’t altogether surprising, for Ashleigh has always possessed a bit of a reckless streak, not to mention an unequivocal fondness for breeches.”

“Breeches?”  Goodness, Daphne was beginning to like the Duchess of Sethe more and more each day.

“It’s true.  Tis also true that her equestrian skills are
far
superior to most men’s,” Tiffany avowed.  “Present company excluded of course,” she added with a cheeky grin directed toward Brendon.

“What are you three grinning about?” Lizzie asked curiously as she came to stand beside Daphne at the railing.

“Oh, nothing of significance,” Tiffany replied offhandedly.

“Gracious, how will I ever locate Lord Palmerston in that crowd,” Lizzie mused, already distracted from her query as she turned her gaze upon the throng of people circulating below.

“Perhaps he shall find us instead,” Daphne suggested.

“Perhaps,” Lizzie mused with a slight frown, even as her eyes continued to scan the crowd.

“Well I don’t know about you three, but I could use a drink,” Brendon stated then.  “Would any of you ladies care for a glass of sherry?” he asked solicitously.

Tiffany nodded.  “I would.”

“Yes, please,” both Daphne and Lizzie responded.

As Brendon moved off to procure their drinks, Lizzie promptly enlisted Daphne’s aid in her search for Lord Palmerston.  It seemed a nearly impossible feat, but surprisingly Lizzie spied him not long after, standing with several other gentlemen near the midsection of the track.  “Look, there he is just over there,” she exclaimed, tugging on Daphne’s sleeve with one hand as she pointed in his direction with the other, “standing beside Lord Haywood.”

Attempting to follow the line of Lizzie’s gaze, Daphne scanned the nearby vicinity.  “Oh yes, I see him now.”

“Tiffany,” she said, turning to her sister-in-law, who now stood a few feet away, “I’ve located both Lord Haywood and Lord Palmerston,” she continued excitedly.  “May we go down and invite them to dinner as Alex promised.”

“Yes, I suppose we should do so before the races begin and we lose sight of them,” Tiffany agreed.  “We’ll need to ask Alex to accompany us, however.”

“Are you coming, Daphne?” Lizzie asked.

Daphne shook her head.  “You go on ahead.”

“Alright then, we’ll return shortly,” she replied.  Then reaching for Tiffany’s hand she pulled her to where Alex stood at the rear of the viewing stand.