Daphne was doomed to disappointment when she reached the dining room, due to the order of precedence and the vast size of the party at dinner. The duke might as well have dined in Bocka Morrow, for all her opportunity to speak with him. He was at the head of the table, which at least meant she could observe him from her place near the other end, but she couldn’t even hear his words.
Mr. Cushing paused beside her and granted her an engaging grin. Daphne returned his smile politely. “What good fortune is mine,” he said gallantly, sweeping into the seat beside her.
“I could argue that it is mine,” Daphne replied in kind, though her heart was not in the words. She might have said something else, but Mr. Cushing suddenly leaned forward.
“I say! Is that the legendary Eye of India, Tamsyn?” he
