palms as he bent over her, and the aching dreams such a touch elicited.
She had denied herself London and the world. Must she deny herself any chance of love as well?
Chapter Eight
Nervously, Daphne watched Lord Griffin speak to Jane Dalrymple and lead her out into the small, cleared area in the main salon that had been transformed into a dance floor. It was just a small informal gathering of friends, with Mrs. Dalrymple playing the pianoforte and an elderly neighbor wielding a lovely violin. She had no reason to be nervous, no reason for her palms beneath her light gloves to grow moist.
When Captain Rollings came to bow before her and request this dance, Daphne nearly fell from her seat in startlement. Men seldom asked her to dance, but of course, she hid her lameness well, and the captain was not aware of it. She was quite certain she could manage that small dance floor, but it had been years since she had actually waltzed around a schoolroom with her dance instructor. She was not at all certain she was prepared to make a cake of herself yet.
Politely declining, she asked if she might have another small glass of sherry. When the captain returned, he remained at her side while several more couples maneuvered around the room’s center. “Have you been enjoying your stay in Devonshire, Miss Templeton? It is somewhat remote from London, wouldn’t you agree?”
“No more remote than where I grew up,” she replied easily. Captain Rollings was one of the reasons she was nervous, although she knew she had no reason to be so. He was polite and respectful and a good deal more civilized than the Robin Hood he sought. She just couldn’t help feeling guilty whenever he was around. She was harboring knowledge of a known criminal. Could he have her arrested for that? She felt quite certain he could.
She tried to keep the subject light. “London is exciting, and there are many things I enjoy doing there, but the country has always been my home. I enjoy small groups over large crowds, and I have a long-standing interest in gardening. I’m quite comfortable here, Captain. And you?”
His gaze followed the blond, lithe figure of Miss Dalrymple as she swung about the floor in the viscount’s arms, her laughter keeping time with the music. “I have learned to be comfortable wherever I go. I cannot think that there is any place in England that isn’t an improvement over the Continent.”
“You were with Wellington?” she inquired. Daphne had gleaned what information she could of the war by eavesdropping on the conversation of gentlemen and scanning the newssheets daily. The awe in which they held the great general had impressed her, and his name came easily to mind.
“Nothing so brave, I fear. My father has seen to it that I am employed only in minor diplomatic posts and domestic situations. Being the eldest son has its drawbacks.”
“So has being an only daughter,” Daphne said wryly. “Now that the war is over, have you considered resigning your commission?”
He gave her a perceptive look. His dark hair gleamed in the brilliant candlelight, and there was a glint of determination in his dark eyes. “I have considered it, but I should like to leave with something to show for my efforts. That was why I volunteered my services to answer the complaints of your local Robin Hood.’’
Daphne prayed her courteous smile didn’t falter. “I cannot find it in me to judge him harshly. He has harmed no one and helped many. Catching a harmless eccentric cannot be much of a feather in your cap.”
“A harmless eccentric does not rob gentlemen at pistol point nor abduct young ladies from their carriages. It is only a matter of time until someone is hurt.’’ His voice was harsh. “Surely you cannot sympathize with a man who must have caused you a great deal of terror.”
Daphne shrugged blithely. “I saw no pistol, and a horse ride at twilight after a tedious day’s journey was rather adventurous. He allowed
She had denied herself London and the world. Must she deny herself any chance of love as well?
Chapter Eight
Nervously, Daphne watched Lord Griffin speak to Jane Dalrymple and lead her out into the small, cleared area in the main salon that had been transformed into a dance floor. It was just a small informal gathering of friends, with Mrs. Dalrymple playing the pianoforte and an elderly neighbor wielding a lovely violin. She had no reason to be nervous, no reason for her palms beneath her light gloves to grow moist.
When Captain Rollings came to bow before her and request this dance, Daphne nearly fell from her seat in startlement. Men seldom asked her to dance, but of course, she hid her lameness well, and the captain was not aware of it. She was quite certain she could manage that small dance floor, but it had been years since she had actually waltzed around a schoolroom with her dance instructor. She was not at all certain she was prepared to make a cake of herself yet.
Politely declining, she asked if she might have another small glass of sherry. When the captain returned, he remained at her side while several more couples maneuvered around the room’s center. “Have you been enjoying your stay in Devonshire, Miss Templeton? It is somewhat remote from London, wouldn’t you agree?”
“No more remote than where I grew up,” she replied easily. Captain Rollings was one of the reasons she was nervous, although she knew she had no reason to be so. He was polite and respectful and a good deal more civilized than the Robin Hood he sought. She just couldn’t help feeling guilty whenever he was around. She was harboring knowledge of a known criminal. Could he have her arrested for that? She felt quite certain he could.
She tried to keep the subject light. “London is exciting, and there are many things I enjoy doing there, but the country has always been my home. I enjoy small groups over large crowds, and I have a long-standing interest in gardening. I’m quite comfortable here, Captain. And you?”
His gaze followed the blond, lithe figure of Miss Dalrymple as she swung about the floor in the viscount’s arms, her laughter keeping time with the music. “I have learned to be comfortable wherever I go. I cannot think that there is any place in England that isn’t an improvement over the Continent.”
“You were with Wellington?” she inquired. Daphne had gleaned what information she could of the war by eavesdropping on the conversation of gentlemen and scanning the newssheets daily. The awe in which they held the great general had impressed her, and his name came easily to mind.
“Nothing so brave, I fear. My father has seen to it that I am employed only in minor diplomatic posts and domestic situations. Being the eldest son has its drawbacks.”
“So has being an only daughter,” Daphne said wryly. “Now that the war is over, have you considered resigning your commission?”
He gave her a perceptive look. His dark hair gleamed in the brilliant candlelight, and there was a glint of determination in his dark eyes. “I have considered it, but I should like to leave with something to show for my efforts. That was why I volunteered my services to answer the complaints of your local Robin Hood.’’
Daphne prayed her courteous smile didn’t falter. “I cannot find it in me to judge him harshly. He has harmed no one and helped many. Catching a harmless eccentric cannot be much of a feather in your cap.”
“A harmless eccentric does not rob gentlemen at pistol point nor abduct young ladies from their carriages. It is only a matter of time until someone is hurt.’’ His voice was harsh. “Surely you cannot sympathize with a man who must have caused you a great deal of terror.”
Daphne shrugged blithely. “I saw no pistol, and a horse ride at twilight after a tedious day’s journey was rather adventurous. He allowed
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