The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(5)

Daphne shook her head. She was not one to dwell on the past. She’d made her mistakes and she had a plan to fix them. Mama must never find out, nor Lord Fitzwell, of course. She’d thought she’d made that clear to Rafe. God knew why he was paying her a call on the eve of her engagement party. She took a deep breath. There was only one way to find out.

*

By the time Daphne strolled into the drawing room, she just so happened to be wearing her favorite pink gown. She just so happened to have her hair pulled up in her favorite fetching chignon, and she just so happened to have a bit of pink in her cheeks caused by more of Delilah’s recommended pinching.

Feeling quite confident, she pushed open the doors to the room and sashayed her way inside. Rafe immediately stood.

Seeing him was like a punch to the stomach. Not that she’d ever been punched in the stomach, but this was no time for mental quibbling. The man was too handsome by half. No, more than half. Twenty-seven years old and fit as a fox. He had bright blue eyes, shortly cropped, dark blond hair, a strong brow, and a cleft in his chin that had always driven her mad. She concentrated on making her way toward him and taking a seat in front of the fireplace in a rosewood chair that sat at right angles to the one in which Rafe had sat.

“Captain Cavendish,” she intoned in her most affected, haughty voice. She stared at the mantelpiece above his head so she wouldn’t be distracted by his face.

He bowed to her. “Lady Daphne.”

“You’re calling me Lady Daphne now?” she replied with a tight smile.

“It’s only proper when I’ve come to call at your town house, is it not? Would you rather I call you Grey?” His voice was strong, sure, always tinged with the smallest bit of charming arrogance. Blast him.

“No! No.” Blast. Her voice had been too high. She made herself count three. “Lady Daphne is quite preferable, thank you.”

Besides, what did it matter if he called her Lady Daphne? The formality was fitting, actually. She shrugged one shoulder and then cursed herself for the unladylike gesture. Not that Rafe had ever cared how ladylike she was. Quite the contrary, he’d seemed to revel in the fact that she’d been game enough to wear breeches and pretend she was a boy last year when they’d worked together. There went her wayward thoughts again. Must concentrate on the matter at hand. Namely, making Captain Rafferty Cavendish rue the day he’d informed her their marriage would be annulled.

She took a deep breath. “I do hope you weren’t planning to stay long, Captain. I’m quite busy today. Planning for my engagement, you know. The party is this weekend and it’s quite large.” She said the word “engagement” as if she was chewing glass between her teeth. And what did it matter if she was telling a white lie? Rafe had obviously heard the rumors that her engagement was imminent, or he wouldn’t have sent her that confounded ship.

Rafe arched a brow at her. “That’s why I’ve come.”

“For my party? I don’t recall sending you an invitation.” More glass between her teeth.

“Your brother invited me, actually, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m here specifically to speak with you.”

“About?” She feigned interest in the crystal vase that stood atop the small rosewood table next to her chair, drawing her fingertip along its base.

“You really don’t know?” His voice dripped with skepticism.

She directed her gaze back at him and gave him a you-can’t-affect-me smile. “Know what?”

“That you shouldn’t be planning an engagement given the fact that you are married to me.”





CHAPTER THREE




“But Julian, you promised me a favor.” Daphne paced back and forth in front of the windows in her brother’s large study that overlooked the square. After what Rafe had just told her moments ago, she’d hurried from the drawing room, telling him she’d return shortly and refusing to listen to his entreaties that she hear the rest of it.

“Yes,” Julian replied. “And I delivered on that favor when I resisted the urge to thrash you or throttle you when you told me a few weeks ago that you’re secretly married to Cavendish. Your favor is all used up.”

“But you must help me,” she pleaded, wringing her hands.

“No, I mustn’t. I’m still incensed over the fact that you did something so reckless without consulting me and that you—”

Daphne reached out her hands to him in supplication. “But everything is about to be ruined. Lord Fitzwell is coming and I’m to be engaged and Captain Cavendish is here and I can barely breathe and—”

“Good heavens, dear. Calm down. I’m quite worried for you.” Cassandra, Julian’s new wife, came floating into the study just then with the tea tray she’d gone to fetch so that Pengree wouldn’t overhear their private conversation. A bit of news like a lady of the house already being married during her supposed engagement party was bound to be a popular bit of gossip even among the most steadfast servants. “Julian, darling, hear her out.”

Julian let out a deep breath, but smiled at his wife as she laid the tray on the desktop and poured a cup of tea, adding two lumps of sugar before handing it to Daphne.

“Yes, see, Cass knows. She wants you to help,” Daphne said.