“Well, but Daphne, my love, boarders who pay their rent on time aren’t to be casually dismissed. Who knows how long it may be until another one comes along to take his place?”
“Casually? Mama, he forced his attentions on me!”
“And it was very wrong of him, to be sure! But, well, when an attractive young woman lacks the protection of a father, or even a brother, such impositions are not uncommon. You would do better in the future to avoid situations that might put you in danger. Not that I think you were ever truly in danger,” Mrs. Drinkard put in quickly, “for I’m sure Mr. Potts would never do anything to harm you.”
“No, he only intended to slobber all over my face and push his horrid tongue into my mouth!”
Mrs. Drinkard grimaced. “Pray do not be vulgar. I can see the incident has upset you, but I am sure you are refining a great deal too much upon what was no more than an unfortunate misunderstanding. Now, that table isn’t going to set itself, you know.”
Correctly interpreting this observation as a dismissal, Daphne turned to go. Upon reaching the door, however, she paused to turn back. “And what if it were Sir Valerian making such advances, Mama?”
“I’m sure Sir Valerian would never do anything so ungentlemanly—especially now that he is standing for Parliament,” Mrs. Drinkard added in a more practical vein. “How fortunate it would be if he did! For then I should let him know in no uncertain terms that he had compromised you, and insist that he do his duty as a gentleman.”
“What duty is that, Mama?” asked Daphne, fairly sure that she already knew.
“Why, what else? To salvage your reputation by giving you the protection of his name.”
“But you feel no such inclination where Mr. Potts is concerned?”
“A fledgling lawyer who won’t take silk for a decade or more? If he ever reaches the heights of his profession at all, which is by no means certain. Good heavens, no! I wonder you should have to ask such a thing! Sometimes I wonder about you, Daphne, truly I do.”
Mrs. Drinkard was still shaking her head over her daughter’s recalcitrance as Daphne left the kitchen with the stack of plates.
Dinner was an uncomfortable meal, as old Mrs. Jennings and Mr. Nethercote had to be informed (the latter several times, and in a loud voice) that Mr. Potts would no longer be residing there. Then, too, there was Mrs. Drinkard’s obvious displeasure with Theo. Fortunately, neither of their elderly boarders inquired as to the nature of his infraction, being too caught up with the unexpected luxury of dining on sirloin of beef (two days old already, and thus had from the butcher at a very good price) to take notice of anything else. Whatever the cause of their inattention, Daphne could not but be grateful for it.
Any hope that Mr. Tisdale was unaware of his fall from grace, however, was dashed after the meal had ended. The company rose from the table with much scraping of chairs, but when the other boarders left the room to repair to the common drawing room or their individual bedchambers, Theo hung back.
“Yes, Mr. Tisdale?” Uncomfortably aware of her heart hammering against her ribs, Daphne averted her gaze and focused all her attention on the stacking of now-dirty plates. “Was there something you wanted?”
Following her example, Theo busied himself with collecting the empty wineglasses. “Only to ask, if I dare, what I have done to put myself in your mother’s black books.”
She sighed. “You have deprived us of a paying resident—and one, moreover, who, unlike poor Mrs. Jennings, is never late with his rent.”
“Have I?” Theo asked in some consternation. “But surely you must have told her why—”
“Yes,” Daphne said in a flat voice. “I told her.”
“And?” he prompted.
“And she says young women who have no father or brother to protect them must learn not to be shocked by such impertinences.”
Theo, stunned by such maternal negligence, could only stare at her. “The devil she did!”
“To be fair, I think she did not know exactly what else to say,” Daphne acknowledged. “For she is quite right, you know. Women have little enough recourse as it is, and under the circumstances—” she broke off, shrugging.
Theo considered his own sister. Even before her marriage, he couldn’t imagine any man dealing Lady Helen Radney such an insult, but not because of anything he or his father might have done in retaliation. No, if anyone had tried such a thing, Nell would have—would have—
“You need to learn to defend yourself,” he pronounced.
She looked up from gathering the used silverware. “I beg your pardon?”
“You need to learn to defend yourself,” he said again. “I’m glad I was able to come to your aid today, but I might not be there next time.”
“Perhaps Mama is wrong, and there won’t be a ‘next time,’ ” Daphne said, with more hope than conviction.
Theo shook his head. “Meaning no disrespect, Miss Drinkard, but have you looked in a mirror lately?”
As the significance of this question dawned, Daphne became very busy with the collecting of crumpled linen serviettes.
“I meant no offense,” Theo said, moving around the table to open the door so that she might pass through, “but if it is as your mother said, and you must learn to expect this sort of treatment, then it behooves you to know how to protect yourself. I can show you how. After all, I once—” He broke off abruptly. I once popped a hit over Gentleman Jackson’s guard, he’d almost said. Although this gratifying experience had been the envy of all the bucks and Corinthians who had been present on that occasion, it was unlikely that a mill worker should ever have had occasion to feel this particular thrill.
“You once—?” Daphne prompted, when he seemed disinclined to finish.
“I once acquitted myself rather
