Love and Larceny (14 page)

“I think Lord Brentfield is being silly,” she
said. “If it were my house, I’d want to know when anything
disappeared under mysterious circumstances.”

Her indignation did not explain her attitude
or the change in clothes. “And you and your mother found nothing
amiss in the portrait gallery?”

She hesitated. “Not in the gallery.”

Wynn cocked his head. “But somewhere
else.”

She sighed. “Perhaps inside me. Oh, Wynn,
sometimes I don’t know my own mind. Excuse me.” She hurried past
her friends before he could call her back. Wynn paused in the
doorway, watching as she dashed up the stairs as if something large
and hungry was chasing her.

Lady Minerva smacked her lips as she rose
from her chair. “You should have listened to me, boy. I could have
discovered something you could use against Sheridan, and now it’s
too late.”

Wynn stared at her as she started toward the
door. “Too late? What do you mean?”

She laughed. “You’ll find out soon enough, I
warrant. Just ask yourself: Where was Sheridan enjoying himself
while you were counting guns in the armory?”

Wynn’s spirits sank as she sashayed out. Had
Sheridan met Daphne after she’d finished with the portrait gallery?
Had he declared himself formally this time?

Had Wynn lost his chance with the only woman
he could imagine loving?

Daphne wandered back down the grand stair of
Brentfield Manor, feeling foolish. Unlike the others, she hadn’t
needed to change. She’d already been wearing her green sprigged
muslin, which was perfect for a picnic. She’d escaped the library
for an entirely different reason.

Now she scolded herself as she went to join
everyone on the lawn below the house. Just because she had decided
she liked Wynn far better than Brooks didn’t mean she had to feel
all shy and awkward around him. He was her friend! And there was
every indication he might be more. She should be rejoicing, not
hiding from him and her feelings.

Hannah must have had a hurried conversation
with the staff, for the footmen were just putting the finishing
touches on the picnic. Linen cloths had been spread across the
immaculate grass, anchored at the corners by massive stone vases
filled with flowers. Hampers of food and wooden tubs with cider on
ice lay waiting for the guests’ repast. Beyond, the formal gardens
beckoned with graveled paths and secret grottos. Already she could
see Priscilla and Nathan, heads close together, moving among the
shrubs and blossoms along the edge of the garden, where Priscilla
could keep an eye on the butler, who was overseeing the picnic.
Ariadne and Sinclair walked hand in hand, careful to stay near Lord
Brentfield. Lady Minerva and Daphne’s mother reclined on one of the
cloths, benignly content for once.

Brooks, standing at the side, came to meet
Daphne before she could seek out Wynn.

“Miss Courdebas,” he said with a deep bow.
“Might I hope you would do me the honor of a walk in the
garden?”

“No,” Daphne said. “Sorry.” She raised her
chin to try to see over his shoulders. Where had Wynn taken himself
off to? She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or annoyed that she
couldn’t find him easily.

Brooks sighed. “I know I have disgraced
myself in your eyes. Won’t you please give me a chance to make it
up to you?”

“No need,” Daphne said, taking a step to the
side. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“Please.” He put a hand to her arm, eyes
dipping down at the edges until he reminded her of a puppy who had
lost his bone. “If not now, meet me at the hermit’s hut on the edge
of the garden in a half hour. Bring your mother if you’d like. I
merely wish to explain my actions and beg your forgiveness. Won’t
you give me that chance?”

Perhaps she should humor him. She had been
the one to invite him to the party, after all. She had encouraged
his attentions at first. “Very well,” she said, and he let her go
with a pleased smile.

Daphne turned, scanning the lawn. Her gaze
brushed Mr. Harrop’s. Could Hannah’s butler never smile? He might
have been wondering whether Daphne had stolen the silver the way he
scowled at her and Brooks. She purposely looked away.

Ah, there was Wynn, beside Lord Brentfield,
with her sister hovering nearby. Daphne went to latch onto his arm,
but she must have grabbed him a little too quickly, for he raised
his dark brows above the rims of his spectacles.

“I must talk to you,” she said, heart
starting to beat faster. “Would you walk with me?”

“Anywhere,” he promised. He excused himself
from their host, who shot Daphne an encouraging smile. Ariadne
stepped into Wynn’s place with a nod of thanks to her sister and
began her questioning of the earl.

Daphne felt a little guilty. She hadn’t taken
Wynn aside to help the investigation. She had a more personal
matter to attend to. She led Wynn down into the gardens. She was
certain her mother was watching them, but the yew hedge quickly
shut off their view of the others. Lavender scented the air, and
petunias crowded near her feet, eager faces raised toward the sun.
She heard a gentleman’s voice murmur somewhere up ahead and a
lady’s delighted giggle. Daphne sighed.

“What is it?” Wynn asked, tilting his head as
if to see into her eyes.

She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear as
the breeze threatened to brush it past her cheek. “I can see now
that I asked you to join me at Brentfield for all the wrong
reasons. I didn’t want to feel like I was the only one lacking a
beau.”

“And then Brooks Sheridan came along,” he
said.

He knew her so well. Daphne kicked a pebble
out of their path. “He was a complication. I’m only sorry it took
me so long to see the solution.”

He stopped, forcing her to stop as well.
“Daphne, what are you saying? Have you accepted Sheridan’s suit? Do
you intend to marry him?”

She gazed up into his eyes a moment, seeing
bewilderment in the sea of green. She was known for blurting out
her inmost thoughts, yet for once she found herself tongue-tied.
How did one tell a gentleman one might be in love? How did one face
the potential rejection? For the first time in her life, fear
clogged her mind.

In desperation, she found herself looking
anywhere but at his concerned face—the daisy with the ruby center,
the gray stone statue of a fat cupid, Emily on her knees in the
gravel.

Emily on her knees?

Daphne blinked, focusing on the scene just
ahead. At the end of the path, Emily and Sir James had found a
grotto surrounded by ferns. The Bow Street Runner stood by a dark
pond, where lilies bloomed pink. He gazed down at her friend, face
tender.

“James Cropper,” Emily said, voice carrying
down the path. “I have waited and hoped, yet you remain silent, and
I can only surmise it is because you doubt my devotion. So I
declare yet again that I love you with all my being. I want to
spend the rest of my days, however long or short, with you. Won’t
you marry me?”

Daphne sucked in a breath, fingers gripping
Wynn’s arm. She knew he was staring just as fixedly. As they
watched, the Runner’s hand reached out to caress Emily’s cheek.

“No,” he said. “To my everlasting regret. You
deserve better.” He pulled back his hand, turned, and strode out of
the garden. Emily sagged to the ground.

Daphne pushed free of Wynn. “Find Hannah,
Priscilla, and Ariadne and send them to me.”

He nodded, backing away. “At once. You will
want to comfort your friend.”

“No,” Daphne said. “I want to horsewhip James
Cropper. Now, hurry.”

*

A few moments later, having left a
white-faced Emily to Hannah’s tender care, Daphne evaded her mother
and led Priscilla and Ariadne in search of the Runner.

“When exactly did he decide he would never be
good enough?” Priscilla demanded, golden head high and steps so
determined her frilly muslin gown whipped about her ankles. “We saw
him knighted, for pity’s sake. What more does he want, an
earldom?”

“It is noble, in a way,” Ariadne put in, one
hand to her flowered bonnet as she scurried to keep up. “Being
willing to sacrifice his feelings for the betterment of his lady
love.”

“If you ask me,” Daphne said, gathering up
her skirts so she could move even faster, “it’s selfish. Emily was
willing to forego position and fortune for him. The least he could
do is let go of his pride.”

“Said the woman who refuses to acknowledge
the man who loves her,” Ariadne muttered.

Daphne jerked to a stop to stare at her
sister. “What did you say?”

“Stop your posturing,” Priscilla said,
stopping as well. “It’s clear as day you love Wynn Fairfax and he
loves you. We’re all just waiting for the two of you to figure it
out.”

Daphne’s face flamed. “Well, you won’t have
to wait much longer. I was about to tell him how I felt when we
came upon Emily and her Jamie.”

“Who is about to leave!” Ariadne cried,
pointing toward the stables.

Sir James was standing by one of the grooms,
while another led out a horse. One look told Daphne the mare was
equipped for a journey. “He’s running away!”

“Oh, no, he isn’t,” Priscilla declared,
hurrying forward.

Daphne beat her and Ariadne to the Runner’s
side.

“Put that horse back in Lord Brentfield’s
stable,” Daphne ordered the groom. “Sir James is going
nowhere.”

“Beg pardon, ladies,” he said, gray gaze
stormy, “but I think it for the best.”

“You are not thinking at all that I can see,”
Priscilla said, hands on her hips. “It has been my goal to win a
suitable place among the aristocracy for most of my life. Emily
hands it to you, and you turn tail?”

He flushed. “This isn’t about moving up in
Society.”

“Good,” Ariadne said, “because I would not
have written you as a fortune hunter.”

“I don’t want her father’s money or
position,” he insisted, glancing among them. “I didn’t ask to be
knighted. I’m a Bow Street Runner. And I’m proud of that fact. But
Emily deserves more.”

“So you consider yourself beneath her?”
Priscilla challenged. “And here I thought you were clever.”

He reached for the reins, and Daphne snatched
them from his grip. “No, you don’t! You go make up to Emily this
minute.”

“Why?” He glared at them all, and the groom
had the good sense to run for the stables. “You heard her. She
hopes to marry me. We all know that cannot happen.”

“Because you are a spineless weasel?”
Priscilla asked sweetly, batting her lashes for good measure.
“Unworthy to grovel before her magnificence?”

As his face darkened, Ariadne tried another
tact. “Simply because you once saw
Romeo and Juliet
doesn’t
mean your ending must be tragic.”

He lunged for the reins, and Daphne slipped
from his grip.

“Let me go,” he begged.

“Only if you answer a question to my
satisfaction,” Daphne told him. “Do you love her?”

He stared at her a moment, then his hands
fell to his sides. “With my last dying breath.”

Daphne beamed at him.

“Nicely said,” Ariadne put in. “There may be
hope for you yet.”

“You’re mad, the lot of you,” he said with a
shake of his head that was equal parts admiration and frustration.
“Your mothers must have warned you about situations like this.”

“Falling in love with a handsome rogue?”
Ariadne asked. “It’s in every novel of any worth.”

“But this isn’t a story to sigh over,” he
protested. “If she marries me, she forfeits her place in
Society.”

“Which she disdains above all things,”
Priscilla reminded him.

“She is ever only happy painting,” Ariadne
agreed.

“And solving mysteries,” Daphne added.

“Both of which she can do as your wife,”
Priscilla pointed out.

“But she’ll lose all her friends,” he
insisted.

Daphne drew herself up and could see
Priscilla and Ariadne doing the same.

“I certainly hope, sir,” Daphne told him,
“that we are made of stronger stuff than that.”

He glanced from one to the other. “You truly
believe we might make a match of it.”

“With all our hearts,” Ariadne promised
him.

“We will stand by you and Emily,” Priscilla
agreed.

“We’ll even dance at your wedding breakfast,”
Daphne said.

He shook his head. “You forget one thing: her
father will never countenance it.”

“Leave that to me.”

They all turned to find Lady Minerva
approaching. Emily’s aunt moved with firm steps, her black skirts
swirling about her. Daphne had never seen so much color in her thin
cheeks.

“If there is one thing I will not abide,” she
said, coming abreast of them, “it’s someone hurting my family. My
niece has never been so distraught, sir, even when she thought she
might have to give up painting. She loves you deeply. Do you know
how rare that is?”

He raised his head. “I do. But I also know
that you have done everything in your power to separate us. Why
would you help us now?”

“Because I love Emily too. She and I are much
alike.” She cackled as he startled. “That’s right, boy. Look
closely. This is what you’ll be waking up beside one day.”

He offered her a bow. “Then I will count
myself fortunate indeed, madam.”

To Daphne’s surprise, Lady Minerva blushed.
“Enough, sir. I expect truth from an officer of the court. Now, as
I said, you leave Emerson to me. I didn’t become the dowager
spinster in the family without knowing where a few bones are
buried. He will accept your marriage. But don’t expect a
dowry.”

“I need no monetary incentive to marry
Emily,” he assured her. “My pay and rewards are enough for me to
support a wife.” His confident smile faded. “If you truly think she
can be happy with me.”

Ariadne lay a hand on his arm. “The question
is whether she can ever be happy without you.”