Free The Lucky One (Brethren Of The Coast #6) by Barbara Devlin

impromptu festivity.”
    “What have you to offer us, in exchange for our cooperation?” Stiffening his spine, Robert folded his arms. “And who is going to pay for the food, drink, and servants, to tend the guests of your party?”
    “You do not presume that I would invite myself into your home and charge you with the costs.” Myriad possibilities flooded his brain, but he reminded himself he needed nothing more than the chance to search Courtenay Hall. “I shall cover the expenses, hire additional personnel from the inn, and I can rent the ballroom, if you would but name a price.”
    “That is not necessary, Sir Dalton.” Daphne stood beside her brother, and thus the lines of allegiance were drawn. “You may have the ballroom, gratis , in fair trade for your discretion, regarding my father’s unplanned leave.”
    “Perfect.” Dalton smiled. “Then we have an agreement.”
    #
    A sennight later, Daphne skimmed the contents of her armoire and bemoaned the state of her wardrobe, as she did so wish to look pretty for a certain knight. For the past week, she had spent most of her time in the company of Dalton Randolph, preparing for the impromptu gala, and he had spared no expense.
    The grand ballroom boasted new Chippendale chairs and matching tables, along with sumptuous velvet drapes. As he had gifted the items to her family, in exchange for the use of Courtenay Hall, she considered the boon a blessing, as she would sell the lot once Dalton had departed Portsea Island. At the thought, tears welled.
    “Stop it, Daphne. You could never win his heart.” The party started in three hours, and she had not made a final selection from her girlish dresses.
    “Miss Daphne, a package just arrived for you.” Mrs. Jones strolled into the bedchamber carrying a large parcel, which she placed on the chaise . “And here is the accompanying card.”
    “Thank you.” She recognized the bold script with the emphatic flourish beneath her written name and ripped into the envelope. “Oh, what has he done now?”
     
    My Dear Miss Daphne,
    It has long been my desire to see you garbed as befits your inimitable beauty. As you have so graciously agreed to act as my hostess, I would reward your gesture with a humble token of appreciation intended to bring a smile to your lovely face.
    Your most devoted servant,
    Dalton
     
    In utter shock, she dropped the missive, tore the brown paper, lifted the lid, and gasped. The sapphire creation, made of some lush material she could not identify, featured puffed sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a conical skirt. But the signature detail was a diaphanous cream overlay, heavily embroidered with fanciful swirls and embellished with tiny seed pearls, which bedecked the bodice and trimmed the bottom edge of the skirt.
    “Mrs. Jones, have you ever seen anything so exquisite?” When Daphne drew the spectacular gown from the bed of cotton, she discovered a pair of matching slippers. “How could he have managed this? And what if they do not fit?”
    “I might have helped Sir Dalton with measurements.” The housekeeper glanced at the ceiling and clucked her tongue. “He is a persuasive rogue.”
    “You didn’t.” Studying her reflection in the long mirror, Daphne held the superb garment, the finest she had ever owned, to her chin and smiled. “Mrs. Jones, I am so happy I could cry.”
    “Well, do not do that, as you will make your eyes puffy.” Mrs. Jones sniffed. “Now let me style your hair, as we require an elegant coiffure to compliment your attire.”
    In a flash, Daphne plopped into the seat before her vanity and all but bounced with nervous excitement. Mrs. Jones fussed and fretted, as she tarried, arranging Daphne’s blonde tresses into loose curls, which framed her face, and a single thick lock traced the curve of her neck and rested at her throat.
    “What would I do without you, Mrs. Jones?” Daphne stood and untied her robe. “Now, will you help me into Sir Dalton’s magnanimous