The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(32)

“Being eligible and being correct are two different things.”

“The Earl of Swifdon and Lady Daphne Swift,” Pengree intoned, announcing them to the masses in the ballroom. Without saying another word, Julian stepped forward, bringing Daphne with him. All eyes turned to stare at them. Daphne searched the crowd. It wasn’t until moments later that she realized she’d been looking for Rafe, not Lord Fitzwell. Blast it.

She and Julian made their way into the room together and Daphne kept her smile pinned to her face. It hurt to smile so much. She’d never realized it before. People greeting her were a blur. The room spun. She clutched at Julian’s arm to steady herself. Thank heavens for her tall, composed brother.

“Daphne,” her mother’s voice rang out. A bit of space opened up and Daphne followed her mother’s voice over to their small group where Mama and Aunt Willie stood near the French doors that led out onto the terrace.

“I’ll leave you here with the ladies,” Julian said. “I’m off in search of my wife.”

Daphne reluctantly let go of her brother’s sleeve, reminding herself that she could hardly find herself engaged by the end of the evening if she clung to him all night. As soon as Julian glided away, Daphne took a deep breath and turned to the other ladies. Before she could say a word, Delilah came skipping up to them.

“Good evening, Cousin Daphne,” she said, curtsying prettily.

Daphne curtsied back. “Delilah, what are you doing here?”

“She wouldn’t stop begging me to make an appearance tonight,” Mama explained. “I’m only allowing her in here because I know well and good that if I didn’t she’d be hiding behind a door and peeking out in her night rail.” She turned to Delilah. “But as I said, miss, you’re only here for bit. Then, it’s off to bed with you. I mean it.”

Delilah nodded. “I know. I know.”

“Oh, let the girl have her fun,” Aunt Willie added. “I daresay being here is preferable to being cooped up upstairs with that sour-faced governess of hers.”

“She is sour-faced isn’t she, Aunt?” Delilah replied with a long-suffering sigh. “I often think so.”

“Well, you certainly look pretty tonight, Delilah,” Daphne interjected before anything more could be said about the poor, sour-faced governess.

Delilah was wearing a smart white gown with a turquoise sash around her waist and a matching turquoise bow on the top of her head … of the large variety as usual. She spun in a small circle. “Thank you. I smell good, too.”

“Turn around, Delilah,” Mama said. “I believe your skirt is hitching up in the back.”

Delilah turned, trying to look at her backside in a maneuver that reminded Daphne as nothing so much as a puppy chasing its tail. “It’s not the skirt, Auntie. It’s me.”

A footman walked by carrying a tray of champagne glasses. “Here, young man.” Aunt Willie swiped a drink from the tray.

“Care for one, Daphne?” Aunt Willie waggled her eyebrows.

“No, Aunt.” Daphne shook her head and waved the tray away.

“Ah, so Captain Cavendish was right about you?” Aunt Willie smiled at her, lifting the drink to her mouth.

Daphne pressed her lips together, hard. Captain Cavendish was not right about her. Why, of all the—

“I’ll take one!” Delilah piped up.

“No, miss,” Mama said to Delilah. “You may be at a ball, but you’re still a bit too young for champagne.”

“J’adore a ball. J’adore champagne,” Delilah declared, her hands clasped together near her ear.

“That’s just silly. How many balls have you been to?” Mama replied, shaking her head.

“Only just this one,” Delilah replied, spinning to allow her skirts to swirl around her ankles. “But I am enjoying myself immensely and I’m certain all balls are as enjoyable.”

“I refuse to ask how many glasses of champagne you’ve had.”

“That’s probably best, Auntie,” Delilah replied.

“You look adorable,” Daphne offered, smiling at Delilah and patting her on the head.

“Well,” Aunt Willie said, motioning to Daphne with her champagne glass. “You’re not going to get yourself engaged standing here with the three of us. You’d best be off in search of a gentleman to ask you to dance. If I were you I’d begin with Captain Cavendish.”

Aunt Willie waggled her eyebrows again. Eyebrow waggling seemed her favorite pastime.

“Oh, ignore her,” Mama said. “I believe Lord Fitzwell is over by the refreshment table. I’m certain he’ll be along presently.”

“I’ll just go and greet Cass,” Daphne said, spotting her sister-in-law across the room.

Daphne took leave of the small group and dashed over to where Cass, Lucy, and Jane were standing together in the corner. Cass was wearing a gorgeous lavender gown. Lucy was dressed in deep emerald, and Jane looked stunning in ice blue.

“Ah, Daphne, dear,” Cass said, holding out a hand and pulling Daphne into their little circle. “You look absolutely breathtaking.”

“Thank you.” Daphne pressed a hand to her churning stomach. “I certainly don’t feel breathtaking.”