The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(41)

“I swear. I’ve never known you to sit still for so much as a minute,” Cass replied. “Fine. I’ll read them to you. And after you pick your next potential bridegroom, what then?”

“Then, I prepare for tonight. Rafe is coming for me after dinner. I must transform myself into a convincing cabin boy.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR




Rafe rapped on the back door to the Swifdon house. He’d maneuvered his mount through the streets, around the mews, and through the alley behind the Earl of Swifdon’s Mayfair residence. No one would see Lady Daphne Swift leaving the house dressed as a boy.

He’d left last night soon after Claringdon had escorted Daphne back inside. First, he’d found Swifdon in his study and informed him that his little sister was very much the worse for drink. He’d told Swifdon that he believed Lucy Hunt was ensuring that Daphne got tucked into bed without her mother being any the wiser. Swifdon had thanked him for his discretion, asked to speak with Lord Fitzwell privately, and told Rafe that he would send him a letter in the morning informing him of Daphne’s condition. Apparently, Swifdon knew of a concoction that was said to quickly cure a sick head. Good thing, because worse for drink or not, Rafe still desperately needed Daphne’s help.

Later, Rafe had watched with an unabashed smile on his face as Lord Fitzwell ordered his coach and left the Swifts’ house, jamming his hat atop his head, and ripping his coat from Pengree’s grasp.

Then, Rafe had left. He’d returned to his rooms in a less fashionable part of town. He’d been relieved, actually, when Swifdon’s letter had arrived this morning saying that Daphne had made a full recovery thanks to the concoction and was intent upon fulfilling her promise. Rafe had been a bit too relieved, perhaps. He’d expected Daphne to be angry with him, perhaps use her failed engagement as an excuse to back out of their agreement. He’d been wrong about her.

The back door swung open and Pengree was there. Clearly, the butler had been expecting him. “Captain Cavendish. Lord Swifdon wishes to see you.”

Rafe followed the butler through the back of the house, up a small staircase, and through a series of corridors until they came to the familiar space in front of the doors that led to Swifdon’s study.

Swifdon stood as soon as Rafe was announced. He moved to the sideboard and made Rafe a stiff drink. He turned and thrust it in Rafe’s hand. “Down it. You’ll need it.”

Rafe accepted the glass with a smile and a nod. “For the mission?”

“No, for dealing with Daphne” was Swifdon’s reply.

Rafe snorted. “I’m glad to hear she’s feeling better. She was three sheets to the wind when I left.”

“Yes, Cass tells me she was a bit green this morning.”

Rafe set the drink aside. “I can only imagine. I’m pleased to hear that she’s agreed to go through with it.”

“Daphne is one of the most noble people I know. She’s dreamed her whole life of being of use to the war effort. Now the wars are over, of course, but this is exactly the type of thing I’d never be able to talk her out of.”

“I understand, my lord.”

If Swifdon thought it odd that Rafe wasn’t drinking, he didn’t indicate it. Swifdon tossed his own bit of brandy to the back of his throat. “I trust Daphne and I trust you, but I don’t need to remind you what will happen to you if she is harmed.”

“No.” Rafe folded his hands behind his back and bowed. “Her life will be more important than my own.”

“I’ve no doubt.” Swifdon nodded. “Now, for a few specifics. Cass has taken Mother to the opera tonight to get her out of the house so she won’t see Daphne leave. Mother thinks Daphne is going to Lucy Hunt’s country house for several days to get over her disappointment about Fitzwell.”

“Is she? Disappointed about Fitzwell, I mean?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Rafe silently cursed himself for asking them.

Swifdon grinned at him. “That’s a question for Daphne.” He rang for Pengree again. The butler appeared soon after. “Please ask Lady Daphne to join us.”

The servant nodded and left the room.

Rafe lifted his brows.

“I have a similar warning for Daphne,” Swifdon explained.

When Daphne entered the room moments later, Rafe sucked in his breath again but for an entirely different reason this time. She was wearing tight buff buckskin breeches that outlined every curve of her sweet backside, a plain, serviceable white shirt with a tight waistcoat that was obviously hiding the fact that she had breasts, however bound they might be. She wore small black top boots and her hair was coiled tight atop her head and hidden underneath a cap that completed her attire.

It was standard dock clothing, but no cabin boy could make it look as good as Daphne did. Anyone else would only see a slight boy but Rafe knew better. Her tiny waist accentuated, her glorious backside highlighted. Rafe glanced away before his own breeches tightened. For his part, he was dressed like a ruffian ship’s captain. A white shirt, dark gray breeches, black boots, and a navy-colored coat, white cravat, and a tricorn.

Daphne gave him a once-over. He had to struggle to keep from doing the same to her … again.

“Captain,” she said simply, barely allowing her lips to part. They quickly resumed their thin line.