Page 42 of The Lady Knows Best

Determined not to squirm, he lifted his glass in a sort of toast and then took a deep swallow, though in truth he would have preferred some of Burke’s whiskey to the sweet, heavy port.

“I presume you have questions for me, gentlemen,” he said, as he returned the glass to the table.

“Observations,” corrected Burke. “The first of which is that I’ve never seen Daphne look more miserable than she did tonight.”

Miles reflected on the remark for a long moment. Burke was a barrister, quick-thinking and sharp-spoken—not traits for which Miles was particularly well known. Discretion was the better part of valor, so they said. But in the end, he knew what his answer must be.

“You’re quite certain I’m to blame for that?”

Miles’s meaning was clear. Burke glowered and tossed half the contents of his glass down his throat. “I fail to see how our family’s determination to stand up for Daphne could be the cause of her low spirits tonight.”

“Perhaps,” Miles suggested, “she’d prefer to stand up for herself. She’s a grown woman. I’ve noticed—if none of the rest of you have.”

Something glittered in Ashborough’s eyes. “Stand up for herself . . . against a man of your reputation? And just how do you think that’s likely to turn out?”

A strange question, Miles thought, from a man whose own reputation had been far blacker than Miles’s, a man who had married a woman who seemed, even on brief acquaintance, to be more than capable of squaring off with the devil himself.

Were the marquess’s words meant to be a warning or encouragement?

“That’s right,” agreed Burke, pushing past any deeper implications of his brother-in-law’s question. “Even in the country, I heard about your wager—and that was before Cami wrote and told me you’d turned your sights to our sister. Dancing with her, singing to her, and then the incident in the glasshouse. You seem determined to make a spectacle of her.”

“On the day of the garden party, she seemed more unhappy before the incident in the glasshouse, as you call it, than she did after,” Raynham interjected.

Burke turned toward his other brother-in-law, and so did Miles, trying to interpret the duke’s words. Perhaps he hadn’t imagined Daphne’s reaction to him on that rooftop, after all.

“According to Erica?” Burke suggested, referring presumably to the duchess. He sounded skeptical.

“According to my sister, actually. Not yours,” the duke replied.

Miles recalled the wordless exchange between Lady Viviane Laurens and Daphne and realized that the substance of it must have made its way back to the duke.

Raynham pushed away from the table to give himself room to cross his legs. Somehow, the pose made him look even more imposing. “Vivi and Daphne have grown to be good friends over the years. And I would venture to say she is less prone to romantic exaggeration than some young ladies—Bellis, for example, from whom Lady Ashborough is likely to have had the report she passed along to you.”

“Forgive me,” Miles ventured, “but did none of you think to ask Miss Burke herself?”

The three men exchanged a look. By silent agreement, Ashborough volunteered to speak. “Daphne has not been terribly forthcoming on the matter.”

“Daph has always been the quiet one—comparatively speaking,” explained Burke, with the familiar weariness of a man with several sisters. Miles had heard that tone in Alistair’s voice many times.

“Though all of you can be taciturn, from time to time,” added Raynham, to which Burke agreed with a reluctant nod.

“So after some discussion,” continued Ashborough, “we decided that it behooved us to see where matters stood on your end. I’ve seen the betting books in White’s for myself, so I know you must be eager to avoid a loss.”

“Why did you ever agree—?” began Raynham, then shook his head.

“Why does any man make a wager?” countered Ashborough. “Because he does not believe he can lose.”

At that, Burke looked Miles up and down and made a harumphing noise in his throat.

“We also know about the broken engagement with Miss Grey,” said Raynham, “and that your attentions to Daphne began shortly thereafter. Rather conveniently, I might add.”

As he picked up the expected refrain, Burke stood and paced in front of the sideboard. “In the span of a week those attentions have grown pointed enough that my sister risks becoming the subject of gossip if things are not brought to their logical conclusion soon—though it pains me to say it.”

Miles got to his feet, realizing that this meeting, too, had reached its final point. “A proposal of marriage.”

What would these men say if they knew Daphne had already made one?

“We may not always like one another,” acknowledged Raynham, with a glance around the table, “but this is a family built on love. Your only concern may be winning your wager, but understand—it is not ours. We want Daphne’s happiness.”