not bothered by spirits…or whatever. Humming to herself, she slid from the bed and rang for her maid. Shortly, garbed in a blue kerseymere gown with a dove-colored mohair shawl draped over her shoulders, her hair pulled back into a neat chignon, Daphne entered the morning room. Considering the hour of the morning, she had anticipated that she would find the room deserted, and her step faltered when she spied Charles Weston standing at the window that overlooked the side garden. His back was to her, and she cravenly considered retreating, but he had heard her and swung around to look at her.
He looked, she decided, very different from the ruffian of last night. Exquisitely shaved and barbered, wearing pristine linen, gleaming boots, breeches, and a bottle green coat of superfine, he was the very epitome of a gentleman of means and station.
Walking into the room and approaching the sideboard, where she helped herself to a cup of coffee, Daphne said, “Good morning! I did not expect to find anyone up this early.”
Picking up his own cup of coffee that was sitting on the table beside him, Charles said, “I tend to be an early riser.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I trust you are recovered from our, er, adventure?”
“Oh, indeed, yes! And I must thank you again for your gallantry.” She glanced down at her cup. “It was an unpleasant experience for both of us, but your company made the entire episode less of an ordeal than it would have been.” A slight shudder went through her. “I do not think I would have liked to have been buried in that cavern all alone, and your quick thinking by requesting food and fuel for the fire just before we were trapped made it bearable.” Her gaze met his. “Thank you. My family and I will always be indebted to you for coming to our aid, and you have our…my sincere gratitude.”
“Very prettily said,” Charles replied, “but I think your gratitude is misplaced—especially when you consider the repercussions of our being locked together alone in that cavern.”
Daphne frowned. “Repercussions? What do you mean by that?”
“You don’t strike me as a stupid woman—stop and think about it. We were alone in that cave for two nights…just the two of us with no chaperon….”
“Good heavens! Do not tell me that anyone believes….” Daphne swallowed as a vivid image of Mr. Weston being overcome by passion and violently kissing her flashed through her mind. Her cheeks burned, and looking everywhere but at him, she managed, “I think you refine upon the matter too much. No person of good sense can believe that anything…untoward occurred between us. I am not some green miss just out of the school room, and you are not….” She stopped, suddenly aware of how little she knew of Mr. Weston. Perhaps, she thought uneasily, he was a hardened rake with a scandalous reputation, just the sort of scoundrel that in his company, no woman’s reputation was safe. Which was ridiculous, she decided. After all, she reminded herself, his cousin was the Earl of Wyndham—surely that counted for something. Mr. Weston had been a perfect gentleman with her during their time together, and while she knew herself to be on the shelf and not a beauty, certainly if he had been a vile seducer, he would have made some attempt to…. Conscious of her lack of charms, the lowering notion occurred to her that the reason he had been so very polite and circumspect was because he had not considered her worthy of his attentions. She shook herself. Now, she was being silly. She hadn’t wanted him to press his attentions on her, had she? Upset with her thoughts, she said sharply, “The whole idea is ludicrous.”
“Do you think so?” Charles asked with a flick of his brow. “Certainly, the vicar didn’t think so when he discussed the matter with me last night.”
“The v-v-vicar,” Daphne stammered, her eyes full of dismay. “Oh, surely not!”
Charles walked up to her and taking
He looked, she decided, very different from the ruffian of last night. Exquisitely shaved and barbered, wearing pristine linen, gleaming boots, breeches, and a bottle green coat of superfine, he was the very epitome of a gentleman of means and station.
Walking into the room and approaching the sideboard, where she helped herself to a cup of coffee, Daphne said, “Good morning! I did not expect to find anyone up this early.”
Picking up his own cup of coffee that was sitting on the table beside him, Charles said, “I tend to be an early riser.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I trust you are recovered from our, er, adventure?”
“Oh, indeed, yes! And I must thank you again for your gallantry.” She glanced down at her cup. “It was an unpleasant experience for both of us, but your company made the entire episode less of an ordeal than it would have been.” A slight shudder went through her. “I do not think I would have liked to have been buried in that cavern all alone, and your quick thinking by requesting food and fuel for the fire just before we were trapped made it bearable.” Her gaze met his. “Thank you. My family and I will always be indebted to you for coming to our aid, and you have our…my sincere gratitude.”
“Very prettily said,” Charles replied, “but I think your gratitude is misplaced—especially when you consider the repercussions of our being locked together alone in that cavern.”
Daphne frowned. “Repercussions? What do you mean by that?”
“You don’t strike me as a stupid woman—stop and think about it. We were alone in that cave for two nights…just the two of us with no chaperon….”
“Good heavens! Do not tell me that anyone believes….” Daphne swallowed as a vivid image of Mr. Weston being overcome by passion and violently kissing her flashed through her mind. Her cheeks burned, and looking everywhere but at him, she managed, “I think you refine upon the matter too much. No person of good sense can believe that anything…untoward occurred between us. I am not some green miss just out of the school room, and you are not….” She stopped, suddenly aware of how little she knew of Mr. Weston. Perhaps, she thought uneasily, he was a hardened rake with a scandalous reputation, just the sort of scoundrel that in his company, no woman’s reputation was safe. Which was ridiculous, she decided. After all, she reminded herself, his cousin was the Earl of Wyndham—surely that counted for something. Mr. Weston had been a perfect gentleman with her during their time together, and while she knew herself to be on the shelf and not a beauty, certainly if he had been a vile seducer, he would have made some attempt to…. Conscious of her lack of charms, the lowering notion occurred to her that the reason he had been so very polite and circumspect was because he had not considered her worthy of his attentions. She shook herself. Now, she was being silly. She hadn’t wanted him to press his attentions on her, had she? Upset with her thoughts, she said sharply, “The whole idea is ludicrous.”
“Do you think so?” Charles asked with a flick of his brow. “Certainly, the vicar didn’t think so when he discussed the matter with me last night.”
“The v-v-vicar,” Daphne stammered, her eyes full of dismay. “Oh, surely not!”
Charles walked up to her and taking
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