The Irresistible Rogue Read online

“I’m told a stiff bit of liquor helps if you can’t manage enough pink with the pinching. But it looks as if you’ve succeeded.” Delilah clapped her hands.

  “Good heavens, Delilah. How do you know anything about drinking?”

  Delilah shrugged. “I heard the vicar talking about it.”

  “Why, the very idea…”

  “It’s quite all right,” Delilah said with a sigh. “Just the pinching will do.”

  Daphne took a deep breath and looked in the mirror, studying her reflection. “Captain Cavendish told me I was beautiful once.”

  Delilah’s smile widened. Daphne could see the girl’s face behind her in the mirror. “What I wouldn’t give for someone as handsome as Captain Cavendish to tell me I am beautiful.”

  “You are lovely, Delilah. You’ll have a string of suitors after you when you come of age. I have never thought of myself that way, though. I suppose I am passably pretty.”

  “You are, Cousin Daphne, so pretty. Why, quite one of the prettiest young ladies in town, I should say.”

  Daphne frowned at her reflection. “No doubt that scoundrel Cavendish only said it as part of the other pack of lies he fed me.”

  “He could feed me an entire plateful of lies, as long as he did it with that roguish smile of his on his face.” Delilah sighed. “What sort of lies did he tell you, Cousin Daphne?”

  “Consider that more of the mystery, Delilah. And I needn’t tell you that Mother’s not to hear a word about any of this.”

  “I may be young, but I can keep a secret. Besides, you’re not likely to tell me more if I go spouting off about what I already know, are you?”

  “You make a good point.” Daphne continued to stare into the looking glass. “I wonder if Lord Fitzwell thinks I’m pretty. He’s never said so.”

  Delilah wrinkled her nose. “Lord Fitzwell doesn’t say much that isn’t about Lord Fitzwell.”

  “Oh, Delilah. Lord Fitzwell is perfectly respectable. He’s handsome, eligible, and titled.”

  “And more interested in your family lineage than your beauty, Cousin Daphne. Not to mention a dead bore.”

  Daphne turned to face the girl and waved a finger at her. “He is far from boring. And as for him being interested in my lineage, gentlemen like Lord Fitzwell take a wife to secure a better place in Society and gain riches through her dowry. I’m interested in his lineage, too, you know.”

  Delilah’s nose remained wrinkled. “Sounds entirely unromantic. I could not j’adore a man who was only interested in my family’s ranking in DeBrett’s Peerage.”

  Daphne shook her head. “Just wait until you’re my age.”

  “I cannot wait. That’s what I’ve been telling you. It’s going to be a sheer lifetime before I’m old enough to go to balls and dance with handsome gentlemen. And I don’t care what you say about Lord Fitzwell. I much prefer Captain Cavendish.”

  Daphne pressed her palm to her belly. She needed to get downstairs and confront Rafe. She’d been using this discussion with Delilah to calm her nerves and afford her time. But the reckoning would be upon her soon. “Captain Cavendish couldn’t be more unlike Lord Fitzwell if he tried. He’s not a bit interested in lineage or money or anything of the sort. He’s a mere captain in His Majesty’s army.”

  And a spy. But she wasn’t about to admit that to Delilah. The girl already knew far too much.

  No, Rafe hadn’t wanted her for lineage or money.

  “He may have no title to speak of, but he couldn’t be more handsome,” Delilah replied.

  Daphne gritted her teeth. She couldn’t argue with Delilah there, but she’d learned her lesson when it came to Rafe Cavendish. Daphne had married him last year. A grievous mistake and one that needed to be rectified posthaste. At the time, she’d been under the mistaken impression that he had some feeling for her. She’d thought their marriage could be more than a business arrangement set up for the Crown. Rafe had insisted on the marriage, hadn’t he? Fine. The mission may have been a part of his assignment for the War Office. But Rafe had been the one to insist that he would not allow her to accompany him unless they were man and wife. And Daphne had seen her chance. Not just her chance to marry the man she’d longed for for years, but also a chance to prove herself a benefit to the war cause. Both her brothers, Donald and Julian, had served. Julian had nearly died fighting Napoleon at Waterloo and Donald had given the ultimate sacrifice when he’d left for an assignment in France, accompanied by Rafe. Daphne wanted to prove that though she might be a female, she, too, could be of service to her country. Like all the Swifts before her.

  Daphne shook her head. She was not one to dwell on the past. She’d made her mistakes and she had a plan to fix them. Mama must never find out, nor Lord Fitzwell, of course. She’d thought she’d made that clear to Rafe. God knew why he was paying her a call on the eve of her engagement party. She took a deep breath. There was only one way to find out.

  * * *

  By the time Daphne strolled into the drawing room, she just so happened to be wearing her favorite pink gown. She just so happened to have her hair pulled up in her favorite fetching chignon, and she just so happened to have a bit of pink in her cheeks caused by more of Delilah’s recommended pinching.

  Feeling quite confident, she pushed open the doors to the room and sashayed her way inside. Rafe immediately stood.

  Seeing him was like a punch to the stomach. Not that she’d ever been punched in the stomach, but this was no time for mental quibbling. The man was too handsome by half. No, more than half. Twenty-seven years old and fit as a fox. He had bright blue eyes, shortly cropped, dark blond hair, a strong brow, and a cleft in his chin that had always driven her mad. She concentrated on making her way toward him and taking a seat in front of the fireplace in a rosewood chair that sat at right angles to the one in which Rafe had sat.

  “Captain Cavendish,” she intoned in her most affected, haughty voice. She stared at the mantelpiece above his head so she wouldn’t be distracted by his face.

  He bowed to her. “Lady Daphne.”

  “You’re calling me Lady Daphne now?” she replied with a tight smile.

  “It’s only proper when I’ve come to call at your town house, is it not? Would you rather I call you Grey?” His voice was strong, sure, always tinged with the smallest bit of charming arrogance. Blast him.

  “No! No.” Blast. Her voice had been too high. She made herself count three. “Lady Daphne is quite preferable, thank you.”

  Besides, what did it matter if he called her Lady Daphne? The formality was fitting, actually. She shrugged one shoulder and then cursed herself for the unladylike gesture. Not that Rafe had ever cared how ladylike she was. Quite the contrary, he’d seemed to revel in the fact that she’d been game enough to wear breeches and pretend she was a boy last year when they’d worked together. There went her wayward thoughts again. Must concentrate on the matter at hand. Namely, making Captain Rafferty Cavendish rue the day he’d informed her their marriage would be annulled.

  She took a deep breath. “I do hope you weren’t planning to stay long, Captain. I’m quite busy today. Planning for my engagement, you know. The party is this weekend and it’s quite large.” She said the word “engagement” as if she was chewing glass between her teeth. And what did it matter if she was telling a white lie? Rafe had obviously heard the rumors that her engagement was imminent, or he wouldn’t have sent her that confounded ship.

  Rafe arched a brow at her. “That’s why I’ve come.”

  “For my party? I don’t recall sending you an invitation.” More glass between her teeth.

  “Your brother invited me, actually, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m here specifically to speak with you.”

  “About?” She feigned interest in the crystal vase that stood atop the small rosewood table next to her chair, drawing her fingertip along its base.

  “You really don’t know?” His voice dripped with skepticism.

  She directed her gaze back at him and gave h
im a you-can’t-affect-me smile. “Know what?”

  “That you shouldn’t be planning an engagement given the fact that you are married to me.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “But Julian, you promised me a favor.” Daphne paced back and forth in front of the windows in her brother’s large study that overlooked the square. After what Rafe had just told her moments ago, she’d hurried from the drawing room, telling him she’d return shortly and refusing to listen to his entreaties that she hear the rest of it.

  “Yes,” Julian replied. “And I delivered on that favor when I resisted the urge to thrash you or throttle you when you told me a few weeks ago that you’re secretly married to Cavendish. Your favor is all used up.”

  “But you must help me,” she pleaded, wringing her hands.

  “No, I mustn’t. I’m still incensed over the fact that you did something so reckless without consulting me and that you—”

  Daphne reached out her hands to him in supplication. “But everything is about to be ruined. Lord Fitzwell is coming and I’m to be engaged and Captain Cavendish is here and I can barely breathe and—”

  “Good heavens, dear. Calm down. I’m quite worried for you.” Cassandra, Julian’s new wife, came floating into the study just then with the tea tray she’d gone to fetch so that Pengree wouldn’t overhear their private conversation. A bit of news like a lady of the house already being married during her supposed engagement party was bound to be a popular bit of gossip even among the most steadfast servants. “Julian, darling, hear her out.”

  Julian let out a deep breath, but smiled at his wife as she laid the tray on the desktop and poured a cup of tea, adding two lumps of sugar before handing it to Daphne.

  “Yes, see, Cass knows. She wants you to help,” Daphne said.

  “I didn’t say that, dear,” Cass replied. “I merely think it best for Julian to hear all of the facts before he makes a decision. Not to mention I’m quite curious to learn exactly what happened between you and Captain Cavendish that resulted in a wedding and your desire to get an annulment as soon as possible.”

  “Very well,” Julian said, pouring his own drink. Brandy, not tea. “I’ll hear you out, Daphne, but you’d best make it quick. I’ve little patience for this.”

  Cass finished pouring her own cup of tea and hurried over to the settee where she curled up and sipped while she listened.

  Setting her teacup aside, Daphne resumed pacing in front of her brother’s desk, her hands folded in front of her. “You remember last year when Donald and Mama wrote to you and told you that I’d run off for a fortnight?”

  Julian’s eyes nearly bugged from his skull. “Lower your voice.”

  “I remember!” Cass piped up.

  “I do, too. You never did explain what that escapade was about,” Julian said.

  “Donald knew, part of it. But I never told Mama. I didn’t want to worry her. I’d convinced Rafe that he needed me for help on a mission. For the War Office.”

  If Julian’s eyes had seemed to bug from his skull a moment ago, now they were in imminent danger of actually popping out and rolling about on the fine rug. He lunged from his seat and braced his hands on the desktop in front of him, looming over Daphne. “You accompanied Cavendish on a mission for the War Office? Are you mad? Is Cavendish mad? I’m going to murder him!”

  “Now, Julian, you promised to hear Daphne out,” Cass quietly interjected.

  Julian growled but slowly resumed his seat. “Go on,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Daphne swallowed once but her voice was steady when she continued her pacing. “Yes, well. I sort of convinced him to, ahem, agree to allow me to come.”

  Julian’s dark gray eyes narrowed on her. “How did you—” He groaned again. “Perhaps I don’t want to know.”

  Daphne plunked her hands on her hips. “It was nothing indecent, I’ll have you know.”

  “Thank God for that,” Julian retorted.

  “I merely threatened him,” Daphne continued.

  “Merely? Threatened?” Julian’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Daphne bit her lip. “I told him that I’d tell Donald he’d compromised me if he didn’t agree to take me with him.”

  Julian cursed under his breath and lurched out of his seat again. “Cavendish compromised you! By God, I’ll—”

  “No! No. No. No.” Daphne waved her hands in the air frantically. “No. He did not.” She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “I only threatened to tell Donald that he’d compromised me if he didn’t do as I asked.”

  Julian breathed deeply, both nostrils flaring. He glanced at his wife, who merely took another sip of tea and shrugged. “I suggest you allow her to finish before you go flying off into any more rages,” Cass said.

  Julian dropped back into his seat. “Very well. Go on, Daphne.”

  “He still said no.” Daphne tapped a finger against her cheek.

  “I don’t see how you ended up going with him then,” Julian replied.

  “I was able to convince him.”

  Julian eyed her warily. “How?”

  “Because I knew the secret of why Donald went to France.”

  Julian’s intelligent gray eyes snapped to her face. “What did you know?”

  Daphne straightened her shoulders and kept her gaze locked on her brother’s face. “I know that the official reason Donald went to France was because he was an earl and he appeared to be on a diplomatic mission.”

  “And?” Julian drew out the word.

  “And I know the real reason Donald went was because the men who worked for the French were Russians and Donald spoke Russian.”

  Julian braced a hand on the desk in front of him. “How did you know that?”

  “I know that because I speak Russian, too.”

  Julian’s eyes rounded bigger than she’d ever seen them. “Pardon?”

  “Pardon?” Cass echoed, her teacup frozen halfway to her mouth.

  “That’s right. Donald learned when he was a youth, after the ambassador paid Papa a visit. Papa told Donald it would serve him well to know more than English and French. The ambassador arranged for a private tutor.”

  “I knew all of that, Daphne, but how did you learn it?” Julian asked.

  Daphne tugged at the strand of pearls around her neck. “As you can guess, Papa didn’t know about it. He never would have agreed to tutor a seven-year-old girl in the language. And I needn’t tell you that Donald was the only one he ever thought worthy of anything special.”

  Julian nodded solemnly. “Go on.”

  “So I asked Donald. I told him how much I wanted to be of use one day, to help the country in any way I could.”

  “And Donald said yes?” Julian breathed.

  “He never said no to me,” Daphne replied with a sad smile. “He taught me himself and sometimes sneaked me into his lessons with the tutor, Mr. Baskov, when he could. Mr. Baskov said it was easier for me to learn than Donald because I was so much younger than he. He said I was a stellar student.”

  Julian stood and turned toward the window. He braced a shoulder against it and looked out. “Why didn’t you ever tell me, Daphne?”

  “I didn’t know if you’d share Papa’s feelings. Or if you’d tell him.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t have.”

  “By the time I knew for sure, you’d gone off to war, and—”

  “And?” Julian prompted.

  “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again,” Daphne finished.

  Julian turned to her, his face solemn. “I’m proud of you, Daphne. You’re clever and quick and a credit to this family.”

  Daphne’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, Julian.”

  On the settee, Cass was dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. “I just love this. Daphne’s secretly known Russian all this time. It’s absolutely famous. Go on, dear, tell us how you convinced Captain Cavendish.”

  Daphne nodded. “Rafe, that is, Captain Cavendish, had wanted Donald to
accompany him down to the docks. To pretend that he was one of the crew members on his ship. He was pretending to be a smuggler, captain of a ship called the True Love.”

  “And?” Cass had abandoned her teacup and had moved to the edge of her seat.

  “And I informed Captain Cavendish that I spoke Russian.”

  “But Donald did, too.” Julian’s brow furrowed.

  “That’s what Captain Cavendish said. But I pointed out that if I went, I could pretend to be his cabin boy. God knows I’m small enough. And I would have more reason to be around when the Russians came to the ship. It wouldn’t seem odd for me to be in the captain’s cabin, for instance. Or to accompany him about the docks.”

  “Wait,” Cass interjected. “I don’t understand. Why are Russians involved with the French?”

  “These particular Russians are mercenaries,” Daphne replied. “They sold their loyalty to the French for money.”

  Cass nodded while Julian’s face turned white. “And Donald allowed you to pose as Cavendish’s cabin boy?”

  “Yes. Donald agreed that I was the better one to go. He knew I wouldn’t be in any danger with Captain Cavendish. He knew it was just the sort of thing I’d been waiting for my whole life, to help the war cause. Donald was correct. I couldn’t have been more ready or more willing,” Daphne finished with a firm nod.

  “So Cavendish agreed?” Julian said.

  Daphne nodded slowly. “Eventually. Though Donald also insisted upon one condition.”

  Julian rubbed his hand across his forehead. “Do I want to know what that condition was?”

  “You must know,” Daphne replied.

  Julian winced. “Fine.”

  “Donald insisted that we marry before we embarked on the mission. He did not want my reputation in danger in the event that we were caught.”

  “And that’s how you came to be married?” Cass asked, biting the tip of one fingernail.

  “Yes,” Daphne replied. “Captain Cavendish had a friend in the War Office get a special license and—”

  “It was Donald’s idea?” Incredulity filled Julian’s words.

  Daphne bit her lip again and winced.