immature gown. “And mama’s slippers are too big—Oh, you removed the ruffles.”
“Well, I had to open the seams, so it struck me as an obvious revision.” The housekeeper adjusted the collar and grinned. “No one would guess it is but a girl’s frock.”
“That has to be the sweetest lie you have ever told, old friend.” The powder blue satin, with the conservative neckline and passé bodice, screamed youth and innocence. On normal occasions, Daphne bothered not with such shallow concerns, but for the first time in her life, she rued the deficiencies of her wardrobe and struggled with shame. “All right, enough primping. Let us go downstairs and subvert whatever mischief my brothers entertain.”
“You should watch Robert, as he does not approve of your alliance with Sir Dalton.” Mrs. Jones opened the door, and they strolled into the hall. “And Richard follows his elder brother’s example.”
“Yes, he does, much to my chagrin. And we cannot risk insulting Captain Randolph, given all he has done for us.” She noted the shine on the newel post. “Did you polish the bannister?”
“Hicks did, this afternoon, while I beat the rugs.” Mrs. Jones adjusted a stunning arrangement of fresh flowers, which brightened the foyer. “And these arrived only an hour ago. The accompanying card is addressed to you.”
“I am sure it is nothing.” Daphne ripped the envelope and withdrew a note.
My Dear Miss Harcourt,
Please accept this meager offering to your incomparable beauty, in thanks for the dinner invitation, which I await with baited breath. Until this evening, think of me with fondness, as I shall think of you.
Your most humble servant,
Dalton Randolph
“I wager I was correct in my assumption, regarding the sender?” Mrs. Jones giggled. “As you blush.”
“Indeed, they are from Sir Dalton.” Daphne’s knees buckled, and her fingers shook, as she read and reread the missive. A strange sensation blossomed in the pit of her belly, and a giddy euphoria invested her consciousness, as hope filled her chest. “Mrs. Jones, do you think a worldly man of the sea could ever love a simple backwater girl, blessed with no connections or fortune?”
“I do not see why not.” The housekeeper arched a brow. “This is eighteen fourteen, not the Middle Ages.”
“But London society lives by its own rules, and it is notorious for its rejection of outsiders that do not conform to its sensibilities.” Yet Daphne could not quell the fantasies coloring her vision, no matter how unrealistic. “And Sir Dalton is a knight of the Crown, though I know not in what capacity.”
“You care for him.” With an expression of utter shock, Mrs. Jones pressed a clenched fist to her breast, and her mouth fell agape. “I had thought you tolerated him, but you have developed a sincere attachment to the captain.”
“Yes, I have, but I know not what to do about it.” And she had no experience with matters of the heart, beyond the books she had read, thus her current situation prevented her from mingling an illusory fictional existence with a harsh reality. “But since he anchored at Portsea, when I am with Sir Dalton, I feel safe, as though nothing could hurt me, and I dream of that which I never thought possible—a husband, a family, and a comfortable home absent financial worries and the stress of my responsibilities. Am I being silly, Mrs. Jones? Is it wrong to want such things? Am I selfish?”
“Merciful heavens, no.” The portly housekeeper wrapped an arm about Daphne’s shoulders. “You are the sweetest young woman I have ever had the pleasure of serving, and I will do so, until I die. And Sir Dalton is most fortunate, if he has earned your regard.”
“Sir Dalton’s coach is just arrived, Miss Daphne.” Hicks adjusted his collar, tugged on his sleeves, and straightened his coat. “And everything is in order, per your instructions.”
“Wonderful. Open the door, so we might welcome our
“Well, I had to open the seams, so it struck me as an obvious revision.” The housekeeper adjusted the collar and grinned. “No one would guess it is but a girl’s frock.”
“That has to be the sweetest lie you have ever told, old friend.” The powder blue satin, with the conservative neckline and passé bodice, screamed youth and innocence. On normal occasions, Daphne bothered not with such shallow concerns, but for the first time in her life, she rued the deficiencies of her wardrobe and struggled with shame. “All right, enough primping. Let us go downstairs and subvert whatever mischief my brothers entertain.”
“You should watch Robert, as he does not approve of your alliance with Sir Dalton.” Mrs. Jones opened the door, and they strolled into the hall. “And Richard follows his elder brother’s example.”
“Yes, he does, much to my chagrin. And we cannot risk insulting Captain Randolph, given all he has done for us.” She noted the shine on the newel post. “Did you polish the bannister?”
“Hicks did, this afternoon, while I beat the rugs.” Mrs. Jones adjusted a stunning arrangement of fresh flowers, which brightened the foyer. “And these arrived only an hour ago. The accompanying card is addressed to you.”
“I am sure it is nothing.” Daphne ripped the envelope and withdrew a note.
My Dear Miss Harcourt,
Please accept this meager offering to your incomparable beauty, in thanks for the dinner invitation, which I await with baited breath. Until this evening, think of me with fondness, as I shall think of you.
Your most humble servant,
Dalton Randolph
“I wager I was correct in my assumption, regarding the sender?” Mrs. Jones giggled. “As you blush.”
“Indeed, they are from Sir Dalton.” Daphne’s knees buckled, and her fingers shook, as she read and reread the missive. A strange sensation blossomed in the pit of her belly, and a giddy euphoria invested her consciousness, as hope filled her chest. “Mrs. Jones, do you think a worldly man of the sea could ever love a simple backwater girl, blessed with no connections or fortune?”
“I do not see why not.” The housekeeper arched a brow. “This is eighteen fourteen, not the Middle Ages.”
“But London society lives by its own rules, and it is notorious for its rejection of outsiders that do not conform to its sensibilities.” Yet Daphne could not quell the fantasies coloring her vision, no matter how unrealistic. “And Sir Dalton is a knight of the Crown, though I know not in what capacity.”
“You care for him.” With an expression of utter shock, Mrs. Jones pressed a clenched fist to her breast, and her mouth fell agape. “I had thought you tolerated him, but you have developed a sincere attachment to the captain.”
“Yes, I have, but I know not what to do about it.” And she had no experience with matters of the heart, beyond the books she had read, thus her current situation prevented her from mingling an illusory fictional existence with a harsh reality. “But since he anchored at Portsea, when I am with Sir Dalton, I feel safe, as though nothing could hurt me, and I dream of that which I never thought possible—a husband, a family, and a comfortable home absent financial worries and the stress of my responsibilities. Am I being silly, Mrs. Jones? Is it wrong to want such things? Am I selfish?”
“Merciful heavens, no.” The portly housekeeper wrapped an arm about Daphne’s shoulders. “You are the sweetest young woman I have ever had the pleasure of serving, and I will do so, until I die. And Sir Dalton is most fortunate, if he has earned your regard.”
“Sir Dalton’s coach is just arrived, Miss Daphne.” Hicks adjusted his collar, tugged on his sleeves, and straightened his coat. “And everything is in order, per your instructions.”
“Wonderful. Open the door, so we might welcome our
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