And the Miss Ran Away With the Rake(102)

“You two,” he said, wagging a finger at Hen and Zillah, “need to reconcile yourselves to the fact that Henry is in love with Miss Dale—”

When they both looked ready to erupt in a bevy of protests, he summoned his most ducal glare.

Which, to his shock, actually worked. At least for now.

“Be advised that the only course for Henry and Miss Dale is to see them married. To each other,” he finished, making sure to close any loopholes.

“Married?!” This might have been a duet of protest, but a third voice had chimed in.

For there on the front steps had suddenly appeared none other than Crispin, Viscount Dale. “Married?” he repeated. “Over my dead body.”

“That can easily be arranged,” Zillah muttered.

Out from behind Tabitha came Mr. Muggins, who, spying his former adversary, let out a warning growl.

“Now what is all this?” Crispin demanded. “Where is my cousin?”

“Gone!” Hen told him. “She lured my dear brother to his ruin.”

“Lured? Daphne?” Lord Dale sputtered with indignation. “More like she was kidnapped!”

“Kidnapped!” came yet another protest from behind Crispin. “Where is my dearest niece?”

This was probably the first time Damaris Dale had ever uttered that phrase in reference to Daphne, but it wasn’t something the Seldons would know.

The tall, willowy figure of a matron came up the steps and took her place at Crispin’s side. In her wake hurried a slight young woman in the plain hand-me-down gown of a companion. She maintained a respectful distance a few steps down.

“I said, where is my niece?” the older woman repeated.

All three Seldons stilled, chilled to their marrow.

“Damaris!” Zillah hissed.

The Dale matriarch flicked a glance in her direction, then sniffed. Loudly. “Zillah. I didn’t think you were still alive.”

The pair eyed each other like old sparring partners, until Damaris’s gaze wavered over toward Mr. Muggins.

“Still breeding mongrels, are we?” She sniffed at the overgrown terrier. Then, having had enough of the Seldons, Damaris turned her attention to the viscount. “Where is our Daphne?”

“Gone,” he bit out. “Stolen by Lord Henry.”

“The ruinous, evil fiend!” she announced before she turned to her companion. “Summon Bow Street. Send word to Derby Dale in the Home Office that we have need of him. I’ll have Lord Henry Seldon dragged and tried through the courts until he’s—”

“Aunt Damaris, this is not helping,” Crispin told her.

And wonders upon wonders, she stopped and bowed her head slightly in deference, though she hardly looked pleased at being interrupted.

Then Harriet Hathaway, who up until now had been watching the drama play out from the grand staircase, waded into the fray. “Daphne hasn’t run away with Lord Henry but with Mr. Dishforth.”

“Dishforth?” they all said in a loud chorus.

Especially Hen, whose eyes went wide at the mention of the man’s name.

The duke cringed. Oh, demmit, this was going to be the devil’s own puzzle to explain.

Not that he had an explanation to give. He was of the same mind as Damaris Dale and inclined to send Bow Street after Henry. Or some sturdy hands from Bedlam.

“How the devil—”

“Who the devil—”

“When I catch this rogue!”

Everyone set up a clamor demanding answers, save Preston and Hen. And Tabitha noticed. “What do the two of you know of this Mr. Dishforth?”

Hen and Preston shared a guilty look.

“Preston!” Tabitha said in a tone that would stand her good stead once she was his duchess. “Who is this Dishforth?”

“There is no Dishforth,” Preston admitted, while Hen threw her hands up in the air and began pacing in tight circles as if she was trying to unravel all of this.

“But there must be,” Harriet insisted. “Daphne has been corresponding with him. Mr. Dishforth placed an advertisement in the paper seeking a wife. And Daphne answered it. They have been exchanging letters ever since. Here is one of the letters he wrote just recently.”

Hen rushed forward and took the paper from Harriet. After a quick glance, the color rushed from her face. “Oh, no! This cannot be. Not Dishforth! The demmed rogue.”

“Why, he seemed quite respectable when I met him,” Damaris’s bespectacled companion piped up.