Patrica Rice (10 page)

He didn’t dare put any other construction on her actions, or her proximity. She was close enough to enfold in his embrace, and he struggled inwardly to keep from doing so.

“It does not matter,” Daphne answered simply, retreating another step. Her hand tingled from touching him. She had been dying to explore the viscount’s handsome features but had been unable to summon the courage. How was it that she could be so bold with this man? “I cannot return to London. This is my home now.”

Evan gave a hiss of surrender and grabbed her shoulders. “What do I have to do to convince you?” His fingers kneaded the soft flesh beneath her thin robe and without thought, he drew her closer until her hair brushed his chin. “Leave, Daphne, before you distract me from my purpose.”

She raised her hands to his chest as she had wished to do earlier. She could feel his heartbeat, sense his tension, and knew a strange desire as she braced herself against him. This wasn’t a lover’s embrace, she knew, but a contest of wills. She struggled to maintain her superiority.

“Let me help,” she implored, not knowing what she asked.

He muttered a curse, and she thought he brushed his lips against her hair, but then he shoved away and strode to the safety of the far end of the room.

“Why can you simply not accept that there is danger here and that you are jeopardizing your own life as well as others’ by staying? I am not asking it to be forever, just long enough for me to straighten out a few matters.”

“And I am supposed to take the word of a common criminal, a thief who must sneak in windows and molest ladies in the middle of the night? Why should I believe you? Why should I not suspect you are after your own advantage in this? What proof can you offer me?” Daphne demanded, recovering her senses now that he was not so dangerously close.

“Do you need to be shot at and thrown in the river to believe me?” Angrily, Evan stalked back to the window. She had neatly set him in his place, and he could not help but feel resentful. Let Gordon deal with her. He was the one who knew how to deal with ladies. For himself, he preferred a horse and rifle any time.

“You are being absurd! The only ones with tendencies toward violence around here are you and your merry band of thieves!’’ Daphne followed him to the window so she need not speak her accusations in more than a whisper.

Half in and half out the window, Evan turned back and said, “Go talk to my esteemed brother if you believe that! Good evening, Miss Templeton.” He dropped out of the window and out of sight.

Daphne ran in terror to see where he had gone, only to find him landing on the portico roof below. “So you admit you have a brother, Evan Griffin?” she threw after him.

Evan glanced up to her white-draped figure in the window above, her long braid hanging past her waist, and he cursed vividly to himself. “Tell that to the world and see how long he lives!’’ he threw back at her before determinedly striding out of hearing.

Daphne waited in the window as he disappeared from her sight. In minutes, she heard the sound of hoofbeats and knew he was gone. Slowly, she retreated from the casement and into the safety of her room. What had possessed him to come here like that? Could he truly mean she was in danger? She could not see how—except from him. He was definitely a danger—to her sanity, if nothing else.

Remembering his fierce touch, the brush of his lips against her hair, Daphne retreated further, staring at the empty window where he had sat a few short minutes ago.

He could not have meant any of those things she had thought she heard and felt. They must be at cross-purposes. She was unaccustomed to dealing with men. Men said things that could be interpreted too many different ways. He was a complete stranger. He could not be concerned enough about her to risk his neck by coming here like this to warn her. He must have meant to rob her but she caught him by surprise.

That made sense. Relaxing a little, she returned to her bed and sat upon the turned-down sheets. He had thought she would be asleep. Perhaps he hadn’t even known this was her room. His hastily invented lies were meant to frighten, that was all. And then she had foolishly encouraged him by touching him. Shame swept through her as she realized how her curiosity could be misinterpreted. Lud, but she was glad she would never have to meet with him face to face again. How could she have been so brazen?

Still, as she fell into her pillows and sought the elusive clouds of sleep, she could not help but remember the strong force of his fingers pulling her close, the steady heartbeat beneath her palms as he bent over her, and the aching dreams such a touch elicited.

She had denied herself London and the world. Must she deny herself any chance of love as well?

Chapter Eight

Nervously, Daphne watched Lord Griffin speak to Jane Dalrymple and lead her out into the small, cleared area in the main salon that had been transformed into a dance floor. It was just a small informal gathering of friends, with Mrs. Dalrymple playing the pianoforte and an elderly neighbor wielding a lovely violin. She had no reason to be nervous, no reason for her palms beneath her light gloves to grow moist.

When Captain Rollings came to bow before her and request this dance, Daphne nearly fell from her seat in startlement. Men seldom asked her to dance, but of course, she hid her lameness well, and the captain was not aware of it. She was quite certain she could manage that small dance floor, but it had been years since she had actually waltzed around a schoolroom with her dance instructor. She was not at all certain she was prepared to make a cake of herself yet.

Politely declining, she asked if she might have another small glass of sherry. When the captain returned, he remained at her side while several more couples maneuvered around the room’s center. “Have you been enjoying your stay in Devonshire, Miss Templeton? It is somewhat remote from London, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No more remote than where I grew up,” she replied easily. Captain Rollings was one of the reasons she was nervous, although she knew she had no reason to be so. He was polite and respectful and a good deal more civilized than the Robin Hood he sought. She just couldn’t help feeling guilty whenever he was around. She was harboring knowledge of a known criminal. Could he have her arrested for that? She felt quite certain he could.

She tried to keep the subject light. “London is exciting, and there are many things I enjoy doing there, but the country has always been my home. I enjoy small groups over large crowds, and I have a long-standing interest in gardening. I’m quite comfortable here, Captain. And you?”

His gaze followed the blond, lithe figure of Miss Dalrymple as she swung about the floor in the viscount’s arms, her laughter keeping time with the music. “I have learned to be comfortable wherever I go. I cannot think that there is any place in England that isn’t an improvement over the Continent.”

“You were with Wellington?” she inquired. Daphne had gleaned what information she could of the war by eavesdropping on the conversation of gentlemen and scanning the newssheets daily. The awe in which they held the great general had impressed her, and his name came easily to mind.

“Nothing so brave, I fear. My father has seen to it that I am employed only in minor diplomatic posts and domestic situations. Being the eldest son has its drawbacks.”

“So has being an only daughter,” Daphne said wryly. “Now that the war is over, have you considered resigning your commission?”

He gave her a perceptive look. His dark hair gleamed in the brilliant candlelight, and there was a glint of determination in his dark eyes. “I have considered it, but I should like to leave with something to show for my efforts. That was why I volunteered my services to answer the complaints of your local Robin Hood.’’

Daphne prayed her courteous smile didn’t falter. “I cannot find it in me to judge him harshly. He has harmed no one and helped many. Catching a harmless eccentric cannot be much of a feather in your cap.”

“A harmless eccentric does not rob gentlemen at pistol point nor abduct young ladies from their carriages. It is only a matter of time until someone is hurt.’’ His voice was harsh. “Surely you cannot sympathize with a man who must have caused you a great deal of terror.”

Daphne shrugged blithely. “I saw no pistol, and a horse ride at twilight after a tedious day’s journey was rather adventurous. He allowed me to keep my mother’s locket and only took what I offered him. I repeat, he seems harmless enough.”

She didn’t know why in the world she was defending him. She must be quite out of her mind. She ought to tell Captain Rollings everything she knew and be done with it.

But first, she needed to speak with Lord Griffin. She turned her gaze in the viscount’s direction, but his back was turned to her. She wished she could see his expression. Was he looking at Jane with delight and admiration?

The music came to an end then, and the laughing, chattering couples left the floor. Lord Griffin led Jane to the corner where the captain and Daphne waited. A brief hint of suspicion darkened, then disappeared from the viscount’s eyes as he watched them together. His smile was its usual affable curve by the time they reached the corner.

“That was so enjoyable, I would like to do it again. We shall have to switch partners, though. Daphne, would you care to join me?”

Oh, yes, she would, but Daphne refrained from blurting out such eagerness. Besides, she had more important things to do than dance with the viscount and make a cake of herself. She needed to speak with him, and if she did not do it now, she might never have the courage.

“If you do not mind, my lord, it is a trifle warm in here. I would be happy to step outside just a minute and return you to Jane and the other ladies when the music begins again.” She sensed rather than saw his tension as he placed her hand on his arm and made a dignified bow to their companions.

“Of course, Miss Templeton. Jane, you are not to speak any wickedness to Captain Rollings while we are gone. It can only be done when we are all together,” he admonished her, laughter concealing any of his concern.

They made the circle of the room, politely chatting with neighbors and friends, declaring their intention of walking out briefly so none would remark their disappearance and put other connotations to it.

Daphne was both grateful and chagrined at this attention. Did he think she would deliberately compromise him should they be alone together too long? It was a dampening thought and just one of many she seemed to be having lately. Perhaps she ought to just tell everyone that she was not marriage material, that her mother was quite mad. In London, just her limp had kept her from being eligible enough to worry over suitors.

Once having run the gamut of their neighbors, they stepped out the open terrace doors with only a minimum of whisper and speculation stirring the air behind them.

Gordon still seemed stiff and uneasy as he led her toward the wall separating the large, circular terrace from the gardens. Dark did not come early this time of year, and Daphne could still see the rigid set of his shoulders when she looked up at him. What was it he expected her to say that had him as nervous as she?

“You are looking particularly charming tonight, Daphne. That shade of rose becomes you.”

“While your compliment is very flattering, my lord, your dissembling is not. Do I appear the sort to need compliments to still my tongue?”

Gordon laughed softly and turned her to face him. “No, not at all, and whatever happened to calling me Gordon? Am I sunk so far in your esteem that you must scorn me with politeness? I hope we know each other better than that, Daphne. You are very easy to know. I have not felt so with any other woman of my acquaintance.”

And he spoke the truth, he realized. There was something so vulnerable about her that he longed to envelop her in his protection. At the same time, she was more forthright and honest than any woman he had ever known. Somehow, she also managed to be loyal and brave, but he was afraid he was about to become a victim of those attributes. Taking the initiative, he offered the opening she sought.

“Did you simply wish a turn about the garden or was there something else behind this request? You realize I do not flatter myself into thinking it is my company you seek.”

Daphne managed a small smile at his kindly face. He really was a very nice man. She just wished she didn’t have to be the one to open the unfortunate subject.

“Perhaps, after all, it is, my lord. Your company is very pleasant and I do not wish to be denied it, which is why I hesitate to speak.”

“Call me Gordon and I shall forgive you anything,” he offered magnanimously.

Daphne laughed. “Now you are opening yourself to Jane’s wickedness. I could name you every sort of villain and you would be forced to forgive me ... Gordon.”

He caught her arms and forced her to continue looking at him. “Tell me what’s on your mind. I cannot stand the suspense any longer. Is it so bad that you cannot say it?”

She looked very worried and his heart froze in his chest, but he refused to give in to his fears. He would have this in the open and pray that she would still speak to him when it was done.

“I cannot say if it is very bad or very good, I cannot know how you feel about your brother. You never speak of him. Surely you must know he is still alive?” Daphne allowed the words to spill from her lips without thinking. She had to talk to someone. She couldn’t contain it any longer. Gordon seemed the only logical person to speak to, but she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disloyalty. Why did she feel it necessary to protect a thief?

Gordon took a deep breath as the secret spilled out and filled the void between them. Just the same, he could not speak the truth, even should he endanger the slight harmony that was building between them. The urge was there, but he could not give in to it.

With a wry twist of his lips, he asked, “Can you not believe it even yet? I have tried to make it clear so you would stay away from danger. Evan is quite dead. I am the one you must scorn.”

A shiver coursed down her spine at the impact of his words. This wasn’t the rogue in the woods lying to her, but Lord Griffin. Could she really be so wrong? Was he truly so superb an actor as to make her believe he was two different people?