The Lucky One (Brethren Of The Coast #6) Page 9

  “I found it on the banks of the Thames, during a particularly dry summer, when I was but a lad.” Dalton had thought her an enigma, but her behavior well nigh stupefied him. “And it is very rare, as I have never seen its equal.”

  “I should have known.” She sniffed and then laughed, shaking her head. “I should have doubted you not, but I was afraid.”

  “I wager I am partly to blame for that.” He glanced at Dirk, who simply shrugged. “Will you trust me, now? I give you my word, as a gentleman, I only wish to help you.”

  “Well, of course, you do.” How she glowed when she gazed at him. “And I should have given you a chance, as even my brother Robert suggested I rely on you.”

  “Then you will confide in me?” Dalton stepped in her direction. “You will disclose your secrets?”

  “Yes.” She nodded once and mirrored his moves. “My parents tolerated each other, but their marriage was plagued by friction, much of which resulted from my father’s predilection for drinking, gambling, and loose women. We bore the toll of his questionable conduct, but none more so than my mother.”

  “My dear, I am more sorry than I can say.” He inched closer. “And I admire your courage, in the face of such adversity. So what happened to the governor? Has he run from his responsibilities, given your circumstances are grave?”

  “The situation is grim, as once mama died, papa indulged his iniquitous proclivities to excess.” When he flicked his fingers, she strolled into his waiting embrace, without hesitation. “I managed, as best I could, but my father amassed a mountain of debt, and he owes substantial markers to a local reprobate. In desperation, I bartered precious personal effects for added income, but I could not keep pace with papa’s arrears. I sold most of the furnishings from Courtenay Hall and released a large portion of our staff, to pare down our expenses, which is why I never received you in the drawing room, as it is empty.”

  “I gathered as much.” Lamenting the difficulties she had endured, Dalton speared his fingers through her hair and gave her a gentle nudge. “In light of what you have just revealed, you truly are my brave little thing.”

  “I do not feel so brave,” she replied, in a small voice. “Because I am scared.”

  “Darling Daphne, at last, I understand the extent of your burden.” In truth, his heart bled for her. “But you need not fret, as I am not going anywhere until the governor returns, and we settle his affairs to my satisfaction.”

  “But that is not possible.” She burrowed to his chest.

  “Why?” Dalton glanced at Dirk, who frowned. “Has he abandoned his family?”

  “No.” She shifted to meet his stare, and a tear trailed her cheek. “My father is dead.”

  #

  What a relief it had been to share her troubles, as well as her grief. As the viscount’s posh traveling coach slowed to a halt before Courtenay Hall, Daphne glanced at Dirk, who winked just then. In that moment, she decided she liked him, despite their brief acquaintance. Sitting beside her, and holding her hand, Dalton remained quiet, and what she would have given to know his thoughts.

  For a scarce second, she had considered apprising him of the brooch’s revelation, but how would he have responded? Inside, she danced a jig, and it was all she could do not to bounce in the squabs. For good or ill, Sir Dalton Randolph of London was Daphne’s one true knight, according to the curious bauble’s associative lore. And while she had never put much faith in what she had previously deemed superstitious endeavors, she pinned her future on the artifact’s mystical powers.

  When a footman opened the door, Dirk exited, followed by Dalton. Then her gallant savior turned to lift her to the graveled drive. Hicks appeared at the front entry, and soon Robert and Richard sprinted to the fore.

  “Where have you been?” Robert grabbed her by the shoulders, shook her twice, and then hugged her. “God, Daphne. I thought the worst.”

  “What did you do to my sister?” At her left, Richard kicked Dalton in the shin. “If you hurt her, I will kill you.”

  “Easy, pup.” Dirk yanked Richard by the shirt collar. “We are not your enemies.”

  “Undisciplined gadabout.” With a wicked grimace, Dalton massaged his offended appendage. “I ought to heat your posterior.” To Dirk, Dalton said, “You have no idea of the amount of trouble these two are capable of causing.”

  “Oh, no.” Dirk glanced at the sky. “I would have no idea.”

  Richard waved a clenched fist. “You try it and—”

  “Boys, please.” She wagged a finger in warning. “Richard, behave yourself.”

  “Miss Daphne, you gave us such a fright.” Mrs. Jones wiped a stray tear. “What happened to you?”

  “Let us gather in the back parlor, and I will explain everything.” To the housekeeper, Daphne smiled and said, “Will you prepare tea and refreshments for our guests, while I change clothes?”

  “Of course.” Mrs. Jones curtseyed and ushered everyone down the hall. “Gentlemen, please follow me.”

  In the foyer, Dalton lingered and caught her about the waist. “Are you all right, sweet Daphne?”

  “I assure you, I am fine.” When he bent his head, she lifted her chin, met him halfway, and kissed him, as she gazed into his amber eyes. “And even better, now.”

  “There’s a girl.” He claimed another quick buss. “You are an extraordinary woman, Miss Harcourt. More so than I had realized.”

  “Thank you, Sir Dalton.” She leaped and smacked her lips to his, before sprinting upstairs, and he chuckled in her wake.

  In her private apartment, she kicked off her slippers, wiggled out of the breeches, and doffed her lawn shirt. At her armoire, she opted for the same pale yellow morning dress she had worn the day she met her one true knight. At her vanity, she loosened her topknot and brushed her thick locks, as she wanted to be pretty for her dashing protector.

  “Miss Daphne, let me help you.” Mrs. Jones rushed into the chamber. “Your young man just told us a hair-raising tale. What on earth possessed you to undertake such an adventure on your own?”

  “You know, very well, I had to return the brooch.” She adjusted the bandage on her wrist. “And I could not, in good conscience, involve my brothers.”

  “But you could have enlightened me or Hicks.” Mrs. Jones scoffed. “What if you had an accident, fell out of the boat, and were swept to sea?”

  “You could have done nothing to prevent it, and your concern is unwarranted.” Daphne revisited Dalton’s tender care, when he found her in his bunk. “As the oldest in this family, it was my responsibility to restore the antique to its rightful owner.”

  “And now it is done.” Mrs. Jones pinned an unruly curl into place. “So why are Sir Dalton and the viscount here? What do they want with you?”

  “I am not entirely sure.” Daphne assessed her appearance. “Let us join them and find out.”

  Retracing her steps, she turned right in the foyer and strolled down the hall. When she entered the morning room, Dalton and Dirk stood. In silence, she strolled to the tea trolley, poured a cup of the steaming brew, and claimed a seat on the chaise.

  “Your brother tells me he wishes to enlist, and his is a noble cause.” The viscount rubbed his chin. “Given his age, it would be to his credit to purchase a commission, without delay.”

  “How, when we have no money?” Daphne glared at Robert, as he had just compounded her shame. “It is all I can manage to keep food on our table.”

  “But your plan is entirely unrealistic.” Robert slapped his thighs and stood. “We cannot conceal our plight for another two years, and even if we could, there is no guarantee the King would appoint me governor. Plus, Harold desires the position, as well as your hand in marriage.”

  “That I will not accept.” To her relief, Dalton moved to sit beside her, as she needed his strength. “You deserve a man who cares for you, not for the office.”

  “But Harold is a Harcourt.” She pondered the possibility, as she counted her cousin a friend. “And
Harcourts have presided over Portsea Island for centuries, yet I had hoped you would follow in father’s footsteps.”

  “While I loathe disappointing you, I must admit I covet other aims, Daphne.” Robert folded his arms. “I wish to join the military, and I have made no secret of that desire.”

  “Your brother is right.” The viscount compressed his lips. “While I admire your dedication to duty, the King must be apprised of your father’s demise.”

  “Is there not some other way?” She wrung her fingers. “And what of Courtenay Hall? This is our home, and we have nowhere to go.”

  “Excuse me, Miss Daphne.” Hicks cleared his throat. “But Mister Harold Harcourt is just arrived. Shall I show him to the study?”

  “No.” Dalton took her hand in his and squeezed. “Bring him in, as he may help us resolve some of our quandary.”

  “Very good, Sir Dalton.” Hicks dipped his chin.

  “Oh, no.” She tensed, as that was the last thing she needed. “What is he doing here?”

  “I sent my man for him, as your relation may settle part of your problem, and we have no time to waste.” Dalton massaged her knuckles with his thumb, and she relaxed, to a degree. “Worry not, as I promised I would not abandon you.”

  “All right.” Swallowing her trepidation, she reminded herself he was her one true knight. Then she leaned close and whispered, “But I am still afraid.”

  “Forgive my informal attire, Viscount Wainsbrough.” Harold loomed in the entrance and bowed. “I was inspecting a bridge on the south end of my property and only just received your summons. Thought it best to ride straight here, as you said it was urgent.”

  Dirk and Dalton stood to exchange pleasantries.

  “That was very kind of you.” Dirk glanced at Mrs. Jones and nodded. “May we offer you a spot of tea?”

  “No, thank you.” Harold hitched his breeches and eased to the sofa. “Must confess I am rather curious, as your vague note conveyed little information, but I suppose it safe to presume it has something to do with Governor Harcourt’s whereabouts.”

  “Father is dead.” Robert draped an arm about Richard’s shoulders, and her youngest brother stared at the floor. “I found him in the rose garden, face down, over a month ago. We had thought him merely unconscious from too much drink, which was not uncommon. But he had an empty bottle of laudanum in his clutch, so we suspect he abused the substance to his own end.”

  “Bloody hell.” Harold snapped to attention and met her gaze. “Daphne, why did you not tell me?”

  At seven and twenty, and the eldest of four, Harold had always been a cherished and reliable friend. With bright blue eyes, sandy brown hair, and a sturdy frame, he was the catch of Portsea Island. What girl had not fancied herself his bride? In short, none but one, as Daphne had never considered her cousin anything more than a lifelong chum.

  “I did not wish to burden you, Harold.” The expectant shame threatened to overwhelm her. “And I could not risk your reputation, should our situation erupt in scandal.”

  “But we are family.” Resting elbows to knees, Harold leaned forward. “And our parents presume we shall wed, so you have should have known you could rely on me.”

  “Harold, any woman would count herself fortunate to have you as her husband.” She swallowed hard.

  “But not you.” Her cousin smiled. “May I ask why you refuse my suit?”

  “Because you love Ellen, the butcher’s daughter, and everyone knows it.” For the second time that day, she spilt one of her closest guarded secrets, and it was such a relief. “I could not, in good conscience, allow you to sacrifice yourself for my benefit.”

  “Given we speak candidly, you should know the townsfolk are aware of your father’s less than virtuous habits, as well as your role in governing Portsea.” With a sigh, Harold shook his head. “You have assumed responsibilities that were not yours to carry, and your character does not hinge on your father’s, God rest him. Know that whatever you decide, I will support you. And if you require my pledge, I will marry you, Daphne. Although my heart belongs to another, we would get on well, you and I. Never would I treat you as your father dishonored your mother.”

  “She will not call upon you to meet that obligation,” her true knight declared in an acerbic tone. Was it her imagination, or had Harold annoyed Dalton, somehow? “But I would have my brother write the King and ask to have you appointed interim governor, if that is amenable to you.”

  “Sir Dalton, nothing would please me more.” Harold shifted his weight. “But what of Courtenay Hall and the governor’s debts?”

  “You know about that?” In that moment, her heart fractured.

  “Dear Daphne, you know, very well, that Portsea is a small community.” Harold cast an expression of pure sympathy. “The more apt question is who is not aware of your financial difficulties.”

  “Oh, no.” Despite her hard work, her family name had been ruined. “Then all is lost, and we are paupers, in every respect.”

  “No, darling.” Dalton gave her a gentle nudge. “All is not lost.”

  “Have you any claim to Courtenay Hall?” Dirk inquired. “Or do the standard rules of primogeniture and entail apply to the estate?”

  “No, sir. While Courtenay Hall has persisted as Portsea’s seat of governance, there are no entailments, to my knowledge, in regard to the inheritance.” With a nod to Robert, Harold rubbed his chin. “The property, and its accrued arrears, passes to the oldest son.”

  “So we need only contrive a plausible explanation for Governor Harcourt’s extended absence and announce his demise.” The viscount stood and paced. Then he halted and peered at Dalton. “Damian’s ancestral pile is not too far. We could circulate rumors of the governor’s visit to Penhurst, along with a mysterious illness. After a suitable period, Harold could post news of the death.”

  “Who is Damian?” As Daphne pondered their machinations, fear knotted her belly. “And can we trust him?”

  “The Duke of Weston.” Dirk ticked off an imaginary list on his fingers. “To us, he is a brother, and I would trust him with my life.”

  “A duke?” Harold’s brows almost reached his hairline. “Oh, I say. Daphne, do not argue.”

  “Dirk, I would ask a favor.” Dalton tugged at his cravat, and she wondered at his purpose. “While I know you wish to return home, I would prefer you remain here, for an additional two days. In that time, I shall remove the Siren to the naval yard at Portsmouth and transfer supervision of the repairs to my first mate. If you could pen a missive to His Majesty, supporting Harold’s promotion to the office, dispatch young Robert in my coach to the War Office, with a commission sponsorship, and review Courtenay Hall’s accounts, I shall rejoin you, whereupon we will journey to the city, with Miss Harcourt.”

  “What?” Daphne leaped to her feet. “Why must I leave my home? And what of Richard?”

  “Richard will stay here, with Hicks and Mrs. Jones to guard him.” Dalton caught her in his sights, and his unmasked determination gave her a shiver. “And you need a husband—a simple, dull, uninspired fellow with an ocean of patience and deep pockets. There is no better place to find such a creature than the marriage mart, which does a brisk business in the ballrooms of the ton, as the Season is in full swing.”

  And just like that, Daphne Harcourt, backwater girl, pondered an impending trip to that magical, mythical place known as London.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A smattering of buildings declared they neared the heart of the British Empire, and Daphne kept her nose pressed to the glass, as she bounced with excitement. Soon the landscape yielded to clusters of structures, until the crowded streets of the city consumed the view beyond the windows. And while he found her delight infectious, all Dalton could wonder was what had possessed him to bring the delectable provincial to London.

  “I shall drop you at your bachelor lodgings.” Dirk adjusted the lace trim of his sleeve. “And then Miss Harcourt and I will continue to Randolph House.”

 
; “But Daphne is staying with me.” Yes, he knew it was wrong, but Dalton could not bear to let her out of his sight. “I promised Robert I would care for her, so she is my charge.”

  “That is out of the question.” His stuffy elder brother gave Dalton the look, which conveyed a wealth of recriminations and reproaches he knew too well. “You cannot quarter an unchaperoned, unwed woman of character. It is not done. And I doubt her sibling intended you to share your residence with her.”

  “But these circumstances are unusual, and I shall hire a lady’s maid.” Numerous justifications danced in his brain, but the simple fact was he wanted Daphne at his side. “As she has no acquaintances in town, what objection could you have?”

  “Do you want the long or the short list?” Dirk arched a brow. “You know better, brother.”

  “Have I a say in the matter?” the source of his discomfit inquired.

  “No.” What was he doing? Why could he not leave her at Dirk’s doorstep, so Rebecca might find Daphne a husband? Were he smart, he would abandon her to his sister’s care and resume his rakish endeavors. “And there will be no more discussion.”

  As the coach slowed to a halt before Dalton’s Mayfair residence, Dirk mouthed, Bad form.

  Anxious to avoid an upbraiding, he had not waited for the footman to open the door. Instead, Dalton jumped to the sidewalk and turned to assist Daphne. After a quick check of the vicinity, he ushered her up the entrance stairs and into the foyer.

  “Have Miss Harcourt’s trunk conveyed to the red room,” Dalton instructed his butler. “And have cook prepare an early dinner, as we are hungry.”

  “Yes, sir.” Merton bowed and then rushed to fulfill the requests.

  “What is the red room?” The picture of innocence, Daphne blinked. “And are you certain I should reside here, with you?”

  “Right now, I am certain of nothing.” At a loss to explain his behavior, Dalton grabbed her hand, dragged her down the side hall, and hauled her into his study. After he poured two balloons of liquid courage, he offered her a glass, which he clinked with his. “Here is to your health.”