Page 14

D aphne turned on her side and closed her eyes. A minute later, she shifted onto her back and stared at the four-post bed’s canopy above her. It had been hours since that moment at the front door.

Liar . Blackguard . Deceiver . In her mind, she couldn’t stop railing at Cassian Rourke.

How dare he be so kind, so attentive, so impossible not to want? How dare he kiss her like he could never get enough of her, and then—on the cusp of walking out of her life forever—confess that it had all been a lie?

She lifted her hand and touched her lips, remembering his mouth on hers, the hunger and urgency in his kiss. The heat of his hands on her body. She’d felt the same urgency, and heaven help her, she’d loved the hard strength of his body against hers. Wrapped in his arms, she’d felt cared for. Safe.

Yet she hadn’t been safe. She’d been on the verge of giving her heart to another deceiver. It frightened her now to think of what she might have allowed if Ivy had not come upon them when she did.

None of it made sense. Why pretend to be his brother? And where was the real Lord Windham?

Apparently, she was never going to learn her lesson because all she could think of was being reckless. Going to him. Demanding answers.

Sitting up, she lit the lamp on her bedside table and settled against the headboard.

As she debated with herself, she heard a soft scratch against her door.

“Are you awake?” Ivy whispered from the other side.

Daphne climbed out of bed and opened the door. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“I saw your light.”

“Why are you wandering the halls when everyone else has gone to bed?”

“I wasn’t wandering. I came to check on you,” Ivy said, holding her candle a bit higher to get a clear look at Daphne from the darkened hallway. “I was worried when you left the dinner party so abruptly after Lord Windham’s departure.”

Daphne fought a sudden urge to cry. “Come in.”

Ivy stepped into Daphne’s room and closed the door behind her. When Daphne climbed up on the bed, Ivy settled on the edge, facing her.

“What is it? Something to do with Windham?”

“Yes. But he’s not Windham.”

Ivy’s dark brows dipped. “Beg pardon?”

“The man who sat at table with us tonight was Lord Windham’s twin.”

“Good heavens.” Ivy laid a hand across her mouth, then dropped it to grip the edge of her skirt. “Oh Daphne, what a twist. Why didn’t I see it?” Ivy sounded more perturbed by her own failure of observation than the fact that she and Daphne and everyone else had been duped for days.

“In retrospect, it makes a lot more sense.” Ivy lifted a finger and tapped it against her cheek. “The scar. More likely that a naval captain might have such a thing than a pampered earl.”

Daphne stared at her sister, jaw slack. “What does any of that matter? He deceived us, Ivy. Don’t you want to punch him like you’re always yearning to do to Moreland?”

“Of course, but I’m mostly curious why he engaged in such subterfuge. Did he explain?”

“Something about his brother’s wishes. Frankly, I didn’t let him explain. I told him to leave.”

Ivy pressed her lips together and stared at the waning embers in the fireplace grate. “I can understand your anger. Especially after being deceived so recently by another gentleman, even if they had very different reasons for their duplicity.”

Daphne narrowed her eyes at her sister. “You think I should have given him a chance to explain?”

Ivy shook her head. “I don’t think you owed him anything. I’m just the curious sort.” She offered a soft smile, then reached out a hand to clasp Daphne’s. “Forgive me for not listening to you when you were so convinced he’d changed.”

“I knew something was off.”

“You did.”

“I’m not hopelessly gullible then?” Daphne waved her free hand. “Never mind. You need not reassure me.”

“You’re not gullible. You were sharp-eyed in this case. You know that Hyacinth and Marigold can fool people when they wish to. Yet you noticed the differences with Captain Rourke immediately.”

“Captain Rourke.” Daphne loathed the little flutter in her throat and the rush of warmth in her belly when she spoke his name. “What did you learn about him in your inquiries?”

“That he served for years in Her Majesty’s naval service, and admirably so, by all accounts. That he left service after an injury and?—”

“The scar on his face?”

“No, the information I gathered was that he was struck in the arm and chest by a rifle bullet. In Egypt.”

Those details put a lump in Daphne’s throat. As angry as she was with the man, the notion of him hurt and bleeding made tears threaten to fall again. She blinked them away.

Stroking her fingers against the pleating at the wrist of her nightdress, she looked at Ivy.

“What are you thinking of doing?” Ivy asked, leaning closer as if eager to join in with whatever she might have planned.

“Something reckless.”

Ivy tipped her head, a smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. “Tell me what it is and I’ll either help or try to talk you out of it.”

“He’s leaving London on a morning train.”

Ivy glanced at the mantel clock. “It’s nearly eleven in the evening.”

“So we’ll be very quiet when we sneak out.”

Ivy crossed her arms, stared at Daphne, seeming to ponder the prospect. “If we get caught, Lily will never forgive me for assisting you.”

“But?” Daphne could hear the excitement in her sister’s tone.

“But I believe you deserve an explanation, and there’s only one way to get it. Assuming he’s now done with fibbing and will tell you the truth.”

Daphne got out of bed and went to her wardrobe, pulling out a simple gown and her black hooded cloak. She pulled out another dark cloak and brought it over to Ivy.

“We’re going now?” Ivy asked, her voice lifting with eagerness.

“Yes,” Daphne told her as she slipped on a petticoat and then reached for her corset. “Before I can talk myself out it.”

Ivy, who still wore her gown from dinner, held out Daphne’s dress and helped her into it. Then they both donned cloaks. Daphne doused her bedside lamp, and Ivy collected the candle she’d brought with her.

Out in the hallway, all was quiet.

They quickly made their way down the stairs, then Ivy blew out her candle and left it on a side table in the front hall. Daphne unlatched the door and they slipped out into the night.

The door clicked shut behind them, the sound softened by the thick evening fog that drifted between the tall Georgian townhouses. Pausing at the top of the steps, Daphne held her skirts just above her ankles. Ivy glanced back toward the darkened windows of the house.

“This is reckless,” Ivy whispered, pulling her cloak tighter.

“I know,” said Daphne quietly, “but I refuse to let him vanish without telling me why.”

They’d already planned to seek a hansom in the next street over, which would be busier at this hour. Daphne gave her younger sister a nod, they clasped hands, and then they rushed along the pavement until they were fully out of view of Edgerton House.

The fire had burned down, but Cassian continued to stare at the ashes, twisting a long-ago drained brandy snifter in his hand. Though he wasn’t truly seeing anything in Julian’s elegant bedchamber at Windham House.

Images of Daphne filled his mind’s eye. Her fierce stare the night he met her.

Her soft smile as she lovingly examined every single specimen she passed at Kew Garden.

The way she’d closed her eyes for a moment when he’d held her in his arms, as if she savored it as much as he had.

Then the heat in her gaze after their kiss, followed by hurt and fury when she told him to leave.

He could still detect the light scent of her jasmine perfume on his skin. He’d never forget that scent, or the kiss they’d shared, or the fleeting moment when they’d touched each other as if they could belong to one another.

What a fool he’d been. No, worse than a fool. He’d been a scoundrel to abuse her trust. No better than that blighter, Moreland.

Somewhere in the house, he heard the clip of a servant’s footsteps, though he’d thought all of them had gone to bed at this hour.

A few moments later, footsteps sounded outside his bedchamber door.

Cassian stood and strode over to a footman on the other side.

“Callers to see you, Captain. Miss Camellia and her sister.” The young man looked a bit beleaguered and had no doubt been roused from sleep.

“Thank you, Jacobs.”

Cassian brushed past the young man and started toward the stairs, then stopped at the top and shoved a hand through his hair. His clothes were rumpled, he’d consumed too much brandy, and he likely looked like hell.

But for some mad reason, she was here.

He took the stairs quickly and heard the sisters conversing quietly in the front drawing room. When he pushed the door open, they both turned to face him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, even though the sight of her made him feel as if some part of him had come alive again.

“I need answers from you,” Daphne said, her tone firm.

“And she deserves them,” her sister added, hands perched on her hips.

“I agree.” Though he didn’t feel entirely worthy of being given such a chance.

“Then explain yourself to her, Captain Rourke.” Ivy Bridewell turned one weighted glance toward her sister. “I’ll wait in the hall.”

As she glided past him, Cassian turned his head. “The library’s across the hall, one door down, in case you find that preferable to the hall.”

“Obliged, Captain.” She arched one dark brow at him, and her eyes held an unmistakable warning. “See that you do not upset my sister.”

“Understood.”

After Ivy departed, he and Daphne stared at each other. She broke the moment first, tipping her head and gesturing at the two settees facing each other across a low table.

“Shall we sit?”

The distance was probably wise, though of course it wasn’t what he wanted. Even after hours of self-recrimination and self-loathing, he wanted nothing more than to reach for her.

Once they were both seated, she squared her gaze on him.

“Why did you lie to everyone?”