The Lucky One (Brethren Of The Coast #6) Read Free Page A

he had chased her. But looming as the specter of doom in her midst, he well nigh took her breath away, for more reasons than one.
    “Sir Dalton—”
    “Oh, let us dispense with the formalities.” With brazen immodesty, he surveyed her, and she swallowed hard. “It is just Dalton. And may I be so bold as to address you informally?”
    “Of course.” With a casual wave, she dismissed Hicks and then extended her hand. “What can I do for you, Dalton?”
    “You may begin by telling me why I have never had the pleasure of your charming company in the ton’s ballrooms.” Then he grasped her fingers, bent, and pressed his lips to her bare knuckles, lingering a tad too long by her estimation, and she shuddered. Although she had uttered a silent prayer he had not noted her reaction to his otherwise innocuous kiss, his arched brow and devilish grin belied her hope. “Are you unwell, my dear?”
    “Why do you ask?” Panic wreaked havoc on her senses, when she attempted to withdraw, and he held firm. She had heard of his sort, the kind of superficial seducer that was more than happy to avail himself of her attributes but had no interest in her heart, and she girded herself with that knowledge. “And I have never journeyed to London.”
    “How exceedingly cruel, as you deny us one of England’s brightest flowers.” The rake had the audacity to wink. “And now might I have a word with Governor Harcourt?”
    “You pay me a great compliment.” Still, he would not relinquish her hand. “And I am sorry to disappoint you, but my father is not in residence.”
    “What time do you expect him?” Dalton drew imaginary circles in her palm.
    “He is away.” She inhaled a shaky breath.
    “When will he return?” His voice poured over her, like honey on a hot scone.
    Clinging to her wits by a thread, Daphne struggled to relax. “I cannot say.”
    “Where has he gone?” Why could she not tear herself from his clutch?
    “He is on the mainland.” Because she had not wanted to incite any alarm, she acquiesced.
    “You are curiously vague.” He shifted his weight.
    “And I might charge you are quite intrusive.” She shuffled her feet.
    “I beg your pardon, my dear.” He pressed her palm to the crook of his arm. “And who has the Crown appointed to serve in Governor Harcourt’s stead?”
    She blinked. “I do not follow.”
    “No doubt your father notified the King of the temporary absence, as required by his station?” Bereft of compunction and any semblance of polite conduct, he gazed upon her as if he knew how she looked in her chemise, and she cursed the burn of a blush. “As someone of singular authority must supervise the territory and safeguard the governor’s fascinating daughter.”
    “Portsea is a small community. We are, in every respect, an extended family.” Goodness, the dimpled man was lethal, and she ignored his last statement. How many bloody questions would he ask, as she had to get rid of him? “And I often assume my father’s duties, sir. Daresay he saw no reason to concern the King.”
    “Given we are at war, and the advantageous location, Portsea Island is of vital importance to the Crown’s military interests.” Dalton led her to a Hepplewhite chair, and then he occupied the mate. “Never would His Majesty abandon the superior landscape to a mere wisp of a girl.”
    “You insult me, sir.” Daphne folded her arms and found safe harbor in his effrontery. “I would have you know I have had no need of a governess for some four years.”
    “ Four years?” He whistled in monotone. “You are a regular Hester Stanhope.”
    “And now you make sport of me.” It was too late, when she realized she had taken his bait, and she averted her stare. “Let me assure you, Sir Dalton, that I am quite capable of managing the daily functions of my father’s office, as I have often helped him, with his tutelage, encouragement, and blessing. So how may I serve you?”
    “What a provocative proposal,