The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)
Valerie Bowman
For my BFF, Danielle Aguirre, who I met at church in 1980 where our parents had to tell us to stop trading Hello Kitty stickers and pay attention. We've been inseparable ever since.
Henry and Ethel 4 EVER!
I love you.
CHAPTER ONE
London, June 1816 The Earl of Swifdon’s town house, Hanover Square
Daphne Swift eyed the mysterious present that rested atop her writing desk. It was wrapped in soft pink paper and tied with a wide white ribbon. Someone obviously knew her favorite color. But the gift did little to stop the dread that had been steadily rising in her throat all morning.
“I think it’s an engagement gift,” her young cousin Delilah said. “For your party tomorrow.” Moments ago, Delilah had flounced into the room carrying the wrapped box in both hands, an impish smile on her face. “I simply cannot wait until I’m old enough to receive an engagement present.” Drama dripped from Delilah’s voice, and she clasped her hands together near her hip. She blinked rapidly. “J’adore presents.”
“Delilah, you’re barely twelve.” Daphne nudged the gift with her fingertip. “And this is not an engagement gift. I am not engaged.”
Delilah lifted both dark brows. “Not yet. But your mama says you’re sure to receive an offer from Lord Fitzwell after the ball tomorrow night. He’s been courting you for weeks.” Delilah sighed again. “I cannot wait until I am old enough to receive marriage offers. I should like enough to have a choice. But not so many as to be vulgar.”
Daphne shook her head. “Don’t be so quick to want to grow up. Believe me, maturity includes far more trouble than you realize.”
“What sort of trouble, Cousin Daphne?” Delilah’s voice was filled with her ubiquitous curiosity.
“Like…” Daphne snapped shut her mouth. Trouble? A handsome face filled her mind. Laughing sky-blue eyes, a firm chin with an intriguing dimple, sun-streaked short blond hair, and the most devastatingly charming smile that ever graced the lips of a man. And oh, what a man he was, if infuriating. “Like … trouble.”
“I don’t care. J’adore les cadeaux. Who sent that one?” Delilah pointed at the box and twirled a long, dark curl around the tip of her finger. She hopped from the bed and skipped over to the desk where she plucked the calling card from the top of the box.
She held the card in front of her elfish face. Her dark eyes grew as big as if she’d seen the vicar sneaking gin. “Captain Rafferty Cavendish?”
Daphne’s heart tripped in her chest. And the blue eyes reappeared in her mind. Rafe? That rogue. That liar. She swallowed hard and concentrated on keeping the anger from her face and the dread from suffocating her. She tugged on the finger that would have worn a ring, twisting her right fist round and round. She took a deep breath. She must open the present or give Delilah a sufficient reason why she wouldn’t. She might as well get it over with. It was only a gift.
So why was her stomach pulling into knots?
Perhaps it was because of the note she’d received three days ago. The note she’d read and hidden in the back of her wardrobe. The note in which Rafe had insisted they meet immediately.
The note she had decidedly ignored.
“Does the card say anything else?” Daphne ventured, wincing.
Delilah flipped it over. “Upon the occasion of your imminent engagement. Many happy returns,” she read. “Oh, I was right. It is an engagement present, Cousin Daphne.”
Daphne snatched the card from Delilah’s hand. She scoured the vellum but there was nothing else. Nothing save Rafe’s bold, scrawling handwriting and the implied sarcasm that suffused those words. Sarcasm only Daphne could decipher.
“What did he send you?” Delilah nodded toward the gift.
“I’ve no idea. You open it,” Daphne replied, swallowing hard.
Delilah didn’t need to be asked twice. She promptly seized the package and ripped off the ribbon and the pretty pink paper to reveal a small white box.
The cousins exchanged a curious glance.
Delilah snatched off the lid and stared into the box. Her face crumpled into a scowl that looked as if she’d just drunk curdled milk.
“What? What is it?” Daphne’s hands turned clammy. She clenched and unclenched her fists to keep the feeling in her fingers, which were quickly going numb with worry.
“It’s a … little wooden ship,” Delilah replied. “I cannot say j’adore it.”
“Well, that would be a first,” Daphne replied with a laugh. “But a ship?” She took the box from Delilah and stared down into it. There, nestled in white tissue paper, was a replica of a ship the size of Daphne’s palm.
She carefully lifted it out of the box. There was something familiar …
Delilah waggled her brows. “Why would the dashing, handsome Captain Cavendish send you an engagement present, Cousin Daphne? Besides, I thought he was a captain in the army, not a captain of a ship.”
“He is.” Daphne turned the replica around in her hand. She caught her breath. The name was painted in bold black letters across the stern … just the way they were on the real vessel.
The True Love.
Daphne pressed her palm to the desktop, her knees buckling beneath her. She tried to drag air in and out of her lungs. She did not need this reminder, today of all days.