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grinned. 
     
     
     
    Later that night as Daphne settled into the warmth of her bed, her thoughts were still spinning despite the lateness of the hour. Pondering the events of the past several hours, her mood was an odd combination of both frustration and exhilaration.  Frustration for having to continue with Blackburn’s charade and exhilaration at having finally experienced a few moments of genuine, unaffected enjoyment in the arms of Brendon Leighton.  Thinking back to their waltz, she closed her eyes, replaying each moment over again within her mind, marveling at the unfamiliar, spine-tingling sensations the captivating lord had stirred within her. Her one regret, however, was that Blackburn seemed to have enjoyed her interaction with Lord Leighton nearly as much as she had.
    Having claimed the last dance of the evening for himself, the earl’s mood had been revoltingly smug as he’d congratulated her on her continued success.  “By God you even managed to draw young Leighton out of the shadows,” he’d exclaimed in an excited murmur, his expression triumphant as he’d executed the steps of the simple country dance, seemingly as pleased by that particular accomplishment as he’d been when she had secured her first voucher for Almacks. Perversely, she’d chosen not to enlighten him to the fact that Lord Leighton, having asked both Lizzie and Amelia to dance whilst standing directly in front of her, had most likely been acting out of simple courtesy when he’d asked to partner her as well. 
    But now, as she lay gazing up at the shadowed ceiling above her bed, she couldn’t deny that a tiny little part of her wished that it had been more than mere courteousness that had prompted his offer; that he’d been attracted to her and that she had evoked in him the same dizzying emotions that he had evoked in her. 
    Oh stop it, Daphne , she mentally chided in the very next instant, for thinking like that would surely do naught but bring about disappointment.  For it was silly to think that Lord Leighton would be interested in her when he could surely have any woman he wanted?  Besides, like it or not, her fate had already been determined. She was to wed the Earl of Blackburn and no amount of wishful thinking on her part was going to change that.
    With a heavy sigh she rolled onto her stomach, pressing her cheek against the cool linen of her pillowcase.  Difficult as it was, it was time for her to accept the inevitable.  Her life wasn’t a fairytale and it never would be.  There would be no gallant knight riding to her rescue and no charming prince with whom she would live happily ever after.  The fantasies of her youth were nothing more than that, silly flights of the imagination and girlish reveries that were never going to come true.  And much as it pained her, she knew that it was time to let them go.
    But even as the dispiriting notion lingered within her thoughts, she couldn’t forestall the yearnings of her subconscious nor the vision that appeared beneath her closed eyelids when she finally drifted off to sleep.  Surprisingly however, it was not a chivalrous knight in chainmail and armor, nor an enchanting prince from a faraway land who invaded her dreams, but rather a swashbuckling pirate, a handsome rogue with dark hair, piercing blue eyes and a devilish smile that took her breath away.  And when he’d rescued her from the evil villain who held her, lifting her up into his arms and carrying her up the gangplank to board his mighty ship, she clung to him, joyful and unafraid, eager to set sail with her dashing hero and surrender her heart to the promise of an everlasting love.
    Throughout the nights following the Chesterfield ball, the handsome pirate became a recurring figure within Daphne’s dreams, reappearing time and again to carry her away aboard his ship as her subconscious clung stubbornly to a hope that refused to die.

Chapter 3
     
     
    It was a quarter past seven when Daphne arrived