Page 49 of The Lady Knows Best

She liked kissing him, it was true—but that fact alone really ought to be enough to dissuade her, or any sensible young lady, from thinking of such a man as husband material. He kissed like that because he was a rake.

A rake who was the subject of the half-written essay locked in her writing desk. The writing desk she’d watched a footman load into the traveling coach with her own two eyes. She’d been pleased to see how he handled it with care, almost as if he knew its incendiary contents.

If she was eager to get underway, it was the sort of eagerness one felt at the prospect of finishing an unpleasant task once and for all.

“More and more, I see these flashes of Camellia in you,” Gabriel said with a wry laugh. “What I’m saying is—”

His explanation remained unspoken, for at that moment a maid appeared in the doorway, looking nervous. “My lord?”

“Yes?” Gabriel waved her into the room.

The girl bobbed an uncertain curtsy and approached. “Do you remember, my lord, a few days ago, when the children all had a touch of fever—?”

“And that nasty rash? How could anyone forget?” The physician had assured them that it wasn’t anything to worry about, and it hadn’t been, for they’d recovered without incident in a day or two, though it had caused them all to miss the Duchesses’ Garden Party. Gabriel’s nose wrinkled now as if he were still smelling the ointment the apothecary had sent over to alleviate the itching.

“Well, my lord, it, er—it would appear that Lady Ashborough has succumbed to the same malady.”

His face blanched. “Is she—? Have you sent for the physician?”

“Yes, my lord. And Lady Ashborough asked me to tell you she’s perfectly fine—other than a bit of scratchin’, beggin’ your pardon. But she did wonder, my lord, whether you—”

Gabriel was already digging a finger beneath his collar—out of sympathy, Daphne hoped, or the power of suggestion, rather than any sudden onset of symptoms.

Just to be safe, both she and the housemaid took a step away from him.

“She also says the journey to Hertfordshire will have to be put off a few days,” the maid added, with an apologetic glance at Daphne.

All the air rushed from Daphne’s lungs. It was the last week of the month. Miles didn’t have a few days. Which meant she didn’t have a few days. How was she going to—?

“Perhaps I could be of assistance?”

Daphne jerked her gaze toward the doorway again to find Lady Stalbridge framed there, wearing a china-blue pelisse and clutching something to her chest. “My apologies for intruding, and at such an early hour. I wanted to return this book I borrowed from Lady Ashborough before we left Town,” she explained, holding it out in one hand. “No one answered my knock, and the front door was open.... Did I hear you say that she is ill?”

“Merely the sort of trivial complaint one is prone to when there are children in the household,” Gabriel answered with a weak smile, before squirming slightly to reach for a spot between his shoulders.

“Oh, dear. And I saw the coach waiting in the street. You were to travel today?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Daphne said, turning slightly so that no one but Lady Stalbridge could see her expression. “To Hertfordshire. Lord Deveraux and I are to be wed there in a few days’ time. Or were to be. . . .”

“My felicitations, Miss Burke,” she said, masterfully hiding her own surprise and appearing to ignore the panicked look Daphne sent her. “But what an unfortunate circumstance! To have to delay your wedding . . .” She trailed off with a sorrowful shake of her head.

“I’m certain Lady Ashborough will be right as rain in time for the happy day,” Gabriel reassured her. “But Lord Deveraux had expressed his hope we all might arrive as soon as possible, so that Daphne could become acquainted with her new home.”

“Lyneham Park, yes. But, my heavens! I’ve just realized—we are to be neighbors, Miss Burke,” Lady Stalbridge exclaimed. “How delightful! In fact, I wonder . . .” A thoughtful expression settled over her face.

“Ma’am?” Gabriel prompted after a moment. He was clearly anxious to check on Cami. Or to find some private place in which he could indulge in a thorough scratch.

“Well, Lord Stalbridge had word from his steward late last night and must hurry to Ferncliffe this morning. If we could be of help to you . . .” She sent Daphne a pointed look.

“Do you mean that you would be willing to take me to Lyneham Park, ma’am? But what of your niece and nephew?”

“Oh, they shall enjoy romping about with their uncle Oliver—my stepson, Lord Manwaring,” she added, by way of explanation to Gabriel.

“And would it be any trouble if my younger sister, Bellis, were to join us? I should like to have her with me.”

“Of course, my dear,” she said with an indulgent smile. “No trouble at all.”

“An excellent solution, ma’am,” declared Gabriel. “I’m much obliged. Lady Ashborough and I will surely be fit to join you in the country in a day or two.” His whole body twitched. “Three at the most. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must check on my wife.”