And the Miss Ran Away With the Rake(56)

Dinner had been a lengthy and painful affair as far as Daphne was concerned.

She’d been seated at the far end of the table, wedged between the new vicar, who’d eaten as if he might know something the rest of them were not party to—that this might be the last supper—and Harriet’s brother, Mr. Chaunce Hathaway, who worked doing who-knew-what for the Home Office. It was impossible to determine the particulars because he rarely spoke.

So Daphne had had little to do over the various courses but follow Chaunce’s silent example and study the room.

If anything, it had given her time to clear the peel Lady Essex had rung over her on the dangers and perils of straying so far afield with a gentleman, even if he was a dull stick like Lord Henry Seldon.

Dull stick, indeed, she would have liked to have told the old girl. Try wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Had he truly kissed her like that, or had she imagined it all? It had happened so fast. His lips upon hers, his hands exploring her, leaving a trail of desire that had continued to whisper and tease her every time she’d dared slant a glance in his direction.

How could a kiss from the wrong man—and yes, there were no doubt in her mind that Lord Henry Seldon was entirely the wrong man—have left her feeling so . . . undone? Right down to the soles of her boots.

Thank goodness she’d come to her senses when she had and remembered who and what she was.

Miss Daphne Dale. A proper miss. A sensible lady. In love with another.

Whom you’ve never met. Never kissed . . .

There were more important things than kissing, she’d told herself.

Though, for the life of her, she hadn’t been able to think of one. Not when she looked at Lord Henry.

Which she had done her best not to do. Especially since he’d been seated beside Miss Nashe and making a great show of it—in all his handsome glory, teasing her (and Lord Astbury) for winning the treasure hunt. And when not showering his charms down upon the heiress, he’d been flirting outrageously with Lady Alicia and even sending a few charming sorties out to Lady Clare.

Wretched man! Certainly Mr. Dishforth would never behave in such a rakish manner.

Yet as dinner had progressed, Daphne had realized her search for Mr. Dishforth might not be an easy matter.

However would she discover which of these gentlemen was Dishforth short of standing up and just asking the man to reveal his identity.

Daphne’s fingers had curled around the arms of her chair and she’d been about to push herself to her feet and do just that—demand to know who Mr. Dishforth was—but she’d stopped short when she’d realized Lady Essex had her steady gaze fixed in her direction.

“Bother,” Daphne had muttered as she’d slumped back into her seat, for publicly admitting to such a folly a would be exactly the sort of unladylike display that would have Lady Essex shipping her back to Kempton in irons.

If only she’d been seated beside Lord Astbury. After all, he was, as Tabitha pointed out, the most likely candidate.

He was certainly handsome enough, as Phi avowed the man was. But then again, all around the table were handsome fellows—Captain Bramston and his craggy, rugged features and dark eyes; Lord Rawcliffe, with his aristocratic bearing; Kipps, who was hailed as the most charming and dashing Corinthian who had ever graced a London ballroom; and even Lord Cowley, who was known more for his academic leanings but still had a poet’s bohemian air about him.

All of them fit Phi’s nearsighted description of the elusive Mr. Dishforth. Even worse, Daphne supposed she would also have to include Lord Henry on that list—for he was also handsome.

Too handsome.

Still, it wasn’t as if he could be Dishforth. . . .

But don’t you wish he were, a wry voice had whispered in her ear as she’d recalled that dangerous kiss in the folly.

Thud. Thud Thud. Lady Zillah Seldon pounded her cane to the floor, bringing Daphne’s attentions back to the sitting room. “In my day, I was considered quite the catch, just as you are, Miss Nashe. Best not waste your opportunities. Another Season, gel, and you’ll be on the shelf.”

“My lady, I have no idea what you mean,” Miss Nashe demurred, her fan fluttering delicately even as her eyes narrowed.

Lady Alicia came to her friend’s rescue. “Miss Nashe has a way of stealing the heart of every man in the room. She cannot help it.”

Daphne tamped down the urge to gag. Truly? This is what they taught at the Bath finishing school these two had gone on and on about while at the table?