And the Miss Ran Away With the Rake

And the Miss Ran Away With the Rake Read Online Free PDF Page A

Book: And the Miss Ran Away With the Rake Read Online Free PDF
Author: Elizabeth Boyle
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical Romance
from pressing my vinaigrette upon Miss Dale.” She made a very pointed glance at the three of them, a warning to say that nothing, nothing, got past her, and then said, “Come now, Harriet, Miss Manx, we shall secure those vouchers for next Season—if they become necessary.” Again the sharp glance that spoke quite pointedly to the fact that she would prefer Harriet and Daphne to get on with the business of finding suitable partis and stop dragging their heels.
    Tabitha sighed. “I am ever so glad to have found Preston. . . . Goodness, speaking of him, there he is being buttonholed by Lady Juniper. Probably over the seating arrangements. Again.”
    Daphne glanced in that direction and found Tabitha’s soon-to-be groom indeed cornered by an elegantly clad lady in mauve—the aforementioned Lady Juniper. Preston’s aunt and Lord Henry’s sister.
    Tabitha glanced back at Daphne, her desires clear.
    “Yes, yes, go save him,” Daphne told her friend. “I will be safe and sound right here.”
    “If you find him”—meaning Mr. Dishforth—“bring him to me immediately.” Tabitha wagged a finger in warning. “Don’t you dare fall in love at first sight and run away with him before I grant my approval.”
    “Tabitha, I am far too sensible for such a thing. I promise, when I find my Dishforth, I will not run away with him.” She crossed her heart for good measure.
    Satisfied, Tabitha hurried across the room to make her rescue while Daphne took a moment to study one and all filling the Seldon ballroom. She was probably the first ever Dale to cross into this unholy space.
    So far, so good, she mused, considering she’d been here nearly an hour and had yet to be ruined. Or sold to an Eastern harem.
    Oh, Tabitha could swear up and down that there was nothing out of the ordinary in the Duke of Preston’s residence. Yes, the Red Room was a bit ostentatious, but only what one would expect of a ducal enclave.
    And certainly, Daphne had to concede, there were no odd remnants of the Hell Fire Club or some other league dedicated to debauchery laying about in open view.
    Those damning bits of evidence, she suspected, were kept in the basement.
    She made a cautionary note to herself: Do not go in the cellar.
    Then again, considering she’d risked everything by coming here tonight, the cellar might be the least of her worries. Especially if her family found out what she’d done.
    But in her defense, she’d come to the ball with the noblest of intentions. Because he was going to be here. Her Mr. Dishforth.
    And after tonight, theirs would no longer be a love affair of merely letters.
    Oh, she knew exactly what was going to happen. She was going to look up and their eyes would meet. He would smile at her. No, grin with delight that he’d discovered her.
    In that so-very-magical moment they would know. Just know they had found their perfect partner.
    Dishforth would be dressed elegantly, but sensibly. No grand waterfall or scads of lace, just a well-cut Weston coat, his sterling white cravat done in a simple, but precise, Mailcoach, and he’d be handsome. Perhaps even as handsome as Preston.
    Oh, she’d concede that much about a Seldon. Preston was a good-looking devil. But all the men in his family were reputed to be too well put together by any measure.
    Daphne sighed. Still, if Mr. Dishforth was even half as grand . . .
    Then she glanced up, telling herself it was all naught but a ridiculous, fanciful dream.
    And it was just that, a silly fancy, until she looked across the ballroom and it happened exactly as she thought it ought.
    “H o, there,” the Earl of Roxley called out as Henry tried to slip unobtrusively into the ballroom. He usually arrived promptly at social gatherings, but tonight, Henry was late. And to Preston’s engagement ball, no less.
    Hen was going to be furious with him.
    Nor was the earl making his entrance any less discreet.
    “Ah, hello, Roxley,” Henry said. He wasn’t overly fond of
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