“Nothing! Just mingle, ingratiate yourself with the right people, and hope that a never-before-met, wealthy nobleman becomes smitten with you.”
“That’s hardly likely, given that we are already acquainted with all the guests,” Daphne replied, trying to fathom her father’s uncharacteristic mood. He was neither volatile nor disdainful.
Rather, he seemed nervous, uncommonly off balance, almost desperate. “Are you seeking a husband for me?” she tried.
“What?” Tragmore gave her a disoriented look.
“You mentioned my snaring a man’s affections. I assumed—”
“I don’t give a damn if you wed or not, Daphne,” he cut in impatiently. “Unless of course your betrothed arrives with a fortune he is eager to share.”
So it was money. For whatever reason her father was worried about funds. Why? He would be amply compensated for their stolen jewels. Had some other business loss occurred? One she knew nothing about?
She glanced at her mother, who shrugged and averted her head. Daphne sighed. She should know better. Elizabeth stayed as far from the flame as possible.
“We’re here,” the marquis muttered. “Now remember what I said. Two hours. No more.”
“Of course, Harwick.” Elizabeth lay a soothing hand on his arm. “We’ll retire early so you can be rested for the hunt.”
Alighting from the carriage, they were ushered to the ballroom door and announced.
“Tragmore, welcome.” The Earl of Gantry made his way toward them. “And to your lovely wife and daughter, as well.”
“Thank you, Gantry,” Tragmore responded, instantly assuming his composed public veneer. “We’ve looked forward to your party for weeks.”
“I’m delighted to hear that.” Gantry smoothed the ends of his mustache and bowed to the ladies. “Lady Tragmore, Lady Daphne, my home is at your disposal. Your rooms have been prepared and your bags taken there by my servants. Now, you have nothing to concern yourselves with but laughter and merriment.”
“You are a most gracious host sir,” Elizabeth smiled. Gently, she took Daphne’s arm. “Come, dear, let’s find the ladies.”
“Oh, Tragmore?” Gantry stayed him with his hand. “Before you join the party, I have news I believe you should hear.”
Tragmore’s brows rose. “Have you received further word on that lowlife who invaded our homes?”
“Hmm? Oh, the bandit. No, unfortunately, I know as little now as I did a fortnight ago. Perhaps later in the evening we can compare our sordid stories and together deduce the scoundrel’s strategy. But, no, the news I refer to does not concern the bandit: It concerns Markham.”
“Markham?” Tragmore had expected anything but this. “Has he finally emerged from his estate? I haven’t seen or heard from him in years.” Tragmore glanced beyond Gantry, into the crowded ballroom. “Is he here tonight?”
“Hardly. He’s dead.”
“Dead?” Tragmore started. “When?”
“Nearly a week ago, from what I understand. No one seems able to supply many details. As you’d suspect, he’d died alone.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Not only because of Markham’s passing, but because, as his son is also gone, the Markham line has reached its end.”
“True.” Gantry shook his head. “ ’Tis a pity. One’s name means so much.” He cleared his throat. “Which reminds me, I had occasion to ride into the village two days past, and I happened to see your daughter.”
“Daphne?” A warning spark ignited Tragmore’s blood.
“Yes. I must admit, I was surprised. I distinctly recall your mentioning that you’d forbidden her from visiting that peculiar vicar who so generously disperses our funds to the poor.”
“You saw her conversing with the vicar?”
“I did. They were taking tea in his garden.” Gantry averted his head, his attention captured by a group of men gesturing for him to join them. “You’ll have to excuse me, Tragmore. I’m being summoned. We’ll continue our talk a bit later.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “As for your daughter, may I suggest you use a heavier hand? It might ensure her obedience.”
Tragmore didn’t reply. He waited only until Gantry had moved off. Then he acted.
Elizabeth and Daphne were but twenty feet away. He reached them in three strides.