and the Swanns and their intertwined lives.’
Walter turned to his wife. ‘Are you positive she won’t tell anyone, Alice? Sometimes a young woman has a need to unburden herself.’
‘Who can be sure of what anyone will do?’ Alice replied. ‘On the other hand, I’ve known Lady Daphne all of her life, and she’s a loner, not one given to confessions about anything. And who would she confide in? Not Diedre, there’s a certain distance between them. And, frankly, she would think DeLacy is too young. She won’t talk, I just know this. Don’t ask me how, but I do.’
‘We Swanns must close ranks, and do all we can to keep her safe in every way,’ Charlotte announced in a strong voice. ‘Walter, talk to our other Swanns, those who work outside, and let’s throw a ring of protection around her.’
‘It’s done,’ Walter said at once. ‘I’ll see our lads tomorrow, and the woodsmen. I’ll tell them to be on the lookout for trespassers. I’ll talk about poachers, suggest we’ve spotted one, and I’ll tell the Earl the same thing.’
Charlotte leaned forward. ‘We can’t have anyone wondering why Lady Daphne has to be protected, therefore rumours of poachers on our land is the best reason to give. Use it.’
Alice said, ‘Lady Daphne was distraught, still in shock when I helped her this afternoon. She was … dazed and fearful, the poor girl. I tried to do everything I could to comfort her, Charlotte.’
‘Keep on doing that, Alice. Stay close to her.’ Charlotte stood up, went and brought the bottle of cognac to the fireside, poured the golden liquid into their glasses. ‘We’re going to make everything right. Expunge that rape … make her whole again. As best we can. And she will marry the son of a duke if we have anything to do with it.’
‘That’s the right way to think,’ Walter asserted. ‘And don’t forget, the Swanns always win.’
Alice said a silent prayer, hoping that this would be the result, that they would save Daphne’s future. The problem was, she wasn’t sure they could.
Daphne sat at her dressing table, studying her face in the mirror. The bruise had finally faded away. It had only been a scrape really; powder and rouge had done the trick. No one had noticed it except Dulcie, who had prattled on about it but had fortunately been ignored. Everyone else was concentrating on other things.
Her aunt had been given only six months to live at the most, and so her mother and father had been preoccupied with this tragic news all week. They had also been concerned about the upcoming arrival of Hugo Stanton, her father’s cousin, and making plans for his weekend visit in July.
And so they had not paid much attention to their four daughters these past few days, much to her relief. They had not noticed the bruise; she had not mentioned her fall in the woods. Neither had DeLacy. She had asked her younger sister not to bring it up, and DeLacy had agreed to keep silent.
So, all in all, she had managed to get through the week without any explanations. But it had not been easy for her. Her body had begun to heal, the bruises and scratches calming down, but her mind was extremely busy.
It was virtually impossible for her to expunge that violent physical attack from her mind. The angry face of Richard Torbett, when she had pulled off his disguise, and his deadly threat to have her mother and Dulcie killed, were engraved on her brain.
When Mrs Alice had returned her clothes in perfect condition, and put them away in her wardrobe, she had thanked her, but made no reference to them. And neither had Mrs Alice. Instead she had said in a low voice, ‘I understand that there are poachers on our land, so don’t be surprised if you see more woodsmen around than usual. They’re keeping their eyes open for trespassers.’
Daphne had nodded, and later wondered about this comment. Yet she fully understood that no Swann would ever discuss an Ingham with someone else. Her secret was safe, there was no question about that. Still, it had occurred to her that the woodsmen were out and about because of her, without any of them knowing it. The Swanns were making sure she was protected. That was the way they worked. In clever ways. Secret ways.
Smoothing her hand across her hair, Daphne then dabbed a bit of powder on her cheeks, and adjusted the jabot of her white blouse.
Last week, when Madge Courtney and Julian Torbett had come to call, she had passed on her father’s invitation to Madge to come to the summer ball. And she had agreed to go riding with them this morning. It was Saturday morning, and she was dreading it all of a sudden. Julian was nothing at all like his dangerous older brother, who was known to be a reprobate and a gambler. But, nonetheless, she couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable, even though Julian was her childhood friend. Being near him made her think of the rapist.
Madge was joining them, and she had asked DeLacy to come along as well. Her sister was delighted to be invited to go riding with this older group, and had accepted with alacrity and pleasure.
There was a knock on the bedroom door, and DeLacy, her face full of smiles, came in, asking, ‘Are you ready, Daphne? Everyone’s waiting for you.’
Daphne reached for her elegant lady’s bowler hat; looking in the mirror, smoothing her hand over her bun, she perched the bowler on top of her head. ‘Yes, I’m ready,’ she answered, and stood. Picking up her gloves, she pulled them on, and continued, ‘I don’t feel like riding today, but I didn’t want to disappoint Julian and Madge.’
‘You don’t want to disappoint Papa, either,’ DeLacy exclaimed.
‘Papa! Is he joining us?’ The thought of her father being with them cheered her up enormously, brought a smile to her bright blue eyes.
‘Yes, he is. He told me a good gallop would do him good, that he needed to clear his head. Mama is not going to Harrogate today, and she invited Julian and Madge to join us for lunch, after our ride.’
‘That’s nice,’ Daphne nodded, attempting as they walked downstairs together to shut out the vivid image of Richard Torbett’s angry, snarling face.
The Earl, Julian and Madge were waiting outside, standing next to their horses and chatting amiably. Daphne and DeLacy went over to join them; after greeting her father, Daphne stepped over to welcome Julian and his fiancée.
Madge Courtney was a striking redhead, good looking, forceful in her manner, and taller than Julian; she had a friendly personality, was outgoing, and good company.
Daphne had always thought they looked odd together. Julian, of medium height, fair of colouring and with soft features, appeared to be much younger than her. Yet they were the same age; Julian was introspective, less flamboyant.
Julian hugged her, as always gentle and loving with her, and told her she looked beautiful. ‘So elegant, Daphne, in your dark blue riding habit. An unusual colour. And I love the bowler. That’s a snappy touch.’
‘Thank you, Julian,’ she answered graciously, and said to Madge, ‘I’m so glad you can come back for lunch with us.’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Madge answered, and then turned to DeLacy to speak to her.
A few minutes later, they were all mounted. DeLacy was riding Dreamer, a horse she had long favoured, whilst Daphne was on Greensleeves, a beautiful roan, which she had owned for several years, a gift from her father.
Within minutes they were trotting out of the stable block, heading for the long stretch of fields where they would be able to enjoy their gallop, racing each other, and giving their horses a good run.
As they swept across the open fields, Daphne began to feel better. Her father was right, fresh air cleared the head. Blowing the cobwebs away was a grand idea, she decided, and settled into her saddle, handling her horse with her usual skill and finesse.
Once they came to