The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(28)

“Not staying for the Season, my lord?”

Lord Berkeley shuddered. “The Season is not my favored type of amusement, I’m afraid. Despite my best efforts to attend events and be charming, I find that wife hunting has never been my most successful pursuit.”

Daphne smiled at him. “I’m certain any young woman would be honored by your suit, my lord.” She scanned her memory. She must know someone who would be suited for Lord Berkeley. The man was a catch. If he didn’t live so far from London, he’d have scored higher on Daphne’s list.

“Yes, well, please tell that to the young ladies,” Berkeley said with a laugh. “Otherwise, I fear I’m a confirmed bachelor.”

Daphne laughed, too. “I shall put in a good word for you, my lord.”

Daphne took her leave from Lord Berkeley and scanned the room. Nearly every available seat was taken. Luckily there was one available next to Lord Fitzwell and Daphne hurried over to claim it.

“Good afternoon, my lord.” She batted her eyelashes at Lord Fitzwell. Delilah had informed her that gentlemen liked that sort of thing. Lovely. She was taking courtship advice from a twelve-year-old.

Daphne glanced up to see Delilah standing on tiptoes searching the room. Delilah had asked for Mother’s approval to attend the game and, much to Delilah’s long-suffering governess’s dismay, Mama had agreed. Delilah appeared to be looking for Captain Cavendish because the moment her eyes alighted on him, she drifted over to hover near him. Hmm. Daphne tapped her finger against her cheek. Perhaps Delilah was just what was needed in the battle against Captain Cavendish. Daphne would have to put her plan into action after charades.

“I trust you slept well,” Lord Fitzwell asked Daphne.

Daphne nearly jumped. “Oh, I did, my lord. And you?”

Lord Fitzwell rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I have a bit of a cramp in my shoulder and the pillow was a bit lumpy and—”

Daphne wasn’t listening. She was craning her neck to watch Rafe speak to Delilah. His infamous, arrogant grin was replaced by a softer, kinder smile. One that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He glanced up and caught her staring at him. His grin widened and he inclined his head toward her. She quickly averted her gaze. Blast him. Not only did he intend to remain at the party, he also clearly intended to make her miserable while he was at it.

“That’s nice,” she said to Lord Fitzwell.

“It wasn’t nice at all. It was a bit uncomfortable, actually,” Lord Fitzwell replied, still rubbing his shoulder.

“Pardon? Oh, I’m sorry, my lord. Of course. It must have been terribly difficult for you.” She turned fully to face him. What had he said? Oh, fiddle. Now she was allowing her preoccupation with that rogue Cavendish to keep her from being properly attentive to Lord Fitzwell. This wouldn’t do at all.

“It was, it truly was,” Lord Fitzwell replied.

“What a pity,” Sir Roderick said from the seat on the other side of Daphne.

Daphne elbowed him.

Mother stood and made her way to the front of the room. She clapped her hands. “I believe we’re all here. Who would like to go first?”

“I shall!” Lord Fitzwell piped up.

“Apparently, his uncomfortable sleeping arrangements didn’t dampen his enthusiasm for charades,” Sir Roderick drawled.

“Roddy, stop it.” Daphne gave the knight her most stern look, but she couldn’t help but laugh when he waggled his eyebrows at her.

Meanwhile, Lord Fitzwell stood, tugged on his jacket, and made a grand show of walking in a wide circle before moving into the center of the room.

“Reminds me of a peacock,” Sir Roderick breathed.

Daphne narrowed her eyes on the knight.

Lord Fitzwell began by pushing out his neck in what Daphne could only describe as a very odd manner. His arms were tucked up to his sides and his head ducked forward and back as if he were experiencing convulsions. From time to time he would cock his head to the side and open his mouth.

“A dandy,” Cass guessed.

“The Prince Regent,” Lucy shouted.

“Lucy!” Claringdon’s voice rang out.

“Oh, sorry, darling,” Lucy replied, tossing a black curl off her forehead.

“A madman,” Sir Roderick offered, turning the room’s attention back to the performance. Daphne elbowed him again.

Lord Fitzwell shook his head to indicate they were incorrect before continuing his same strange antics.

“Beau Brummel,” Mother said.

“Pengree,” Julian called, and quickly earned himself a frown from that very man who’d been standing at attention at the back of the room. “Sorry, Peng,” Julian added with a shrug.

More head shaking from Lord Fitzwell.

Daphne glanced at Rafe. He sat with his arms folded, his eyes narrowed on Lord Fitzwell as if he were watching an escapee from Bedlam. He didn’t bother to offer any guess.

“A bird!” shouted Delilah finally.

Vigorous nodding ensued from Lord Fitzwell.

“What type of bird?” Mother asked.

More nodding from Lord Fitzwell.

“An owl,” Cass offered.

“A canary,” Daphne said, wanting to contribute something in an effort to make the poor man stop.

“A rooster?” Upton offered.