“Hardly just.”
“Well, we don’t have the power of the crown standing behind us, now do we?”
Daphne began to pace. “What if he dies? I never thought to reach him. I have been lazy. I haven’t helped you at all with the ledgers or anything. I—”
“Have spent your time thinking, and you came to several important conclusions. Either someone knew a secret way into your home, or one of the servants betrayed your father. Calm down, Daphne.”
“I can’t calm down. Is that the door?”
Resigned, Annalise glanced out the door. Daphne had been imagining that she heard the door open every ten minutes or so. She peeked out, seeing only a worried Villiers as he listened in to Daphne’s emotional rambles.
“No, Daphne, it is not James. Sit down and try to relax. This has just been a difficult day, all around.”
Daphne managed to sit still for all of two minutes, then she took to pacing again. Annalise groaned. She was driving her to distraction.
Ten minutes later, Anna knew as she was watching the clock tick each second by, there was the unmistakable sound of the door slamming.
“Anna—”
Before Daphne could finish the thought, James walked in, looking thoroughly exhausted. He collapsed into a chair and glanced at Daphne, who was still pacing.
“Anna, pour me a snifter, would you?” he asked. “Daphne, God girl, stop that pacing. You’re making me dizzy.”
Daphne promptly sat. “What happened? Is he okay? Is he alive? Is—”
Annalise shook her head and took the drink to her brother. “She’s been like this ever since you left,” she whispered under her breath.
James nodded and downed the drink in one swallow. It burned his throat.
“Daphne, the doctors are hopeful. The bullet went through mere flesh. He is bleeding cleanly now.”
“He’ll be okay, won’t he?” Daphne asked breathlessly.
“As long as a fever does not set in, and as long as he keeps his bandages clean, he should be just fine. Stop worrying.”
Daphne promptly burst into tears.
Annalise shared a disgruntled look with her brother.
“Daphne, come on; let’s go to bed.”
“It is fine, Anna. You go,” James said quietly.
His sister studied him curiously. “If you say so.”
He nodded. James forced his body to rise, although that took nearly every ounce of energy he had left. He somehow managed to sit beside Daphne on the settee. When he reached out to caress, she turned on him, falling against his chest, clinging and weeping with wild abandon.
“This is all my fault,” she sobbed. “If I had walked with him—”
“What, would you shield him with your body? Be reasonable,” James snapped.
Daphne shoved away from him. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand you are overcome, Daphne. Try to calm down. Your cousin is fine. Everything is just fine!”
She knuckled at her eyes, to wipe away tears.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” James apologized. “I am exhausted. I am sore. It has been a long night and it will be an even longer day tomorrow.”
Daphne jumped up and began to pace. Everything was falling apart. She had such high hopes when this began. She had thought to find a killer, to make a good love-match. She had dreamed of a perfect world. But this world was imperfect and full of pain and suffering. It was too much to bear.
She heard his loud sigh. Daphne could only stop still when she felt his steady hands rub upwards over her back until they curved along her shoulders. He pulled her back against him and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“I know you’ve had a bad day, Daphne. I’m so bloody sorry. If there was anything I could do, I would, baby. Surely you know that?”
She shook her head. She wanted to melt against him. She wanted to hurt him the way he had hurt her.
“How can I face this, all of this?”
He squeezed her. “One day at a time, darling.”
She shuddered. Slowly, he turned her around so that she could rest her head against him. He stroked his hand over her shining curls. Daphne gave in to need and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Do you want me to have Villiers make you a posset?” he teased.
She shook her head. She inhaled in musky scent before firmly pushing away. “I think not, James. Thank you for all you did for Elliot. I may not always show it, but I am grateful.”
“Where are you going?” he asked huskily.
She sent him a vapid smile. “Bed, of course. Where else could I go?”
To my bed, he thought wretchedly. To my arms. James sighed as he watched her leave.
He was in deep trouble.
Chapter Fourteen
Daphne knew something was the matter when Villiers brought her a formal request for her to seek a meeting with his grace, the Duke. She nodded her acceptance of the message and glanced around.
Darcie still had not returned to her duties, which was at once comforting and worrisome. Before, she had never taken off for such long periods of time. Daphne found herself wondering if she had found a lover. Perhaps she had fallen in love as deeply as Daphne had, only with a more acceptable man. The thought warmed her heart.
She quickly washed the specks of paint from her hands and face and dressed in a demure yellow gown. She did not bother to straighten her hair or ribbons. If James was requesting a formal audience with her, then her appearance would hardly matter all that much. If he was angry with her, he would shout whether she looked dowdy or elegant.
Sighing unhappily, she made her way down to his office and knocked quietly. His thundering enter sent her nerves to scattering. He sounded furious.
Daphne hurriedly entered, shutting the door soundly behind her and sat down on the settee, a more comfortable option to the stiff chairs that had once graced this spot.
Glancing around, she realized that James had not changed anything after their fight. She puzzled over that. He had been furious with her on that occasion.
“Are you finished gawking at your own artwork,” James snapped irritably.
Worriedly, she glanced at him, then away. His face was actually red. A very bad sign.
“I apologize.”
“Don’t, damn it, apologize, Daphne. Just give me your attention, will you?”
She nodded, folding her hands in her lap. She carefully stared at his left ear. It was too difficult to stare him directly in the eye, but she hoped he would not become too irritated over the slight.
“Daphne, I fear that something has been brought to my attention that must be addressed immediately.”
She nodded. Had he discovered the investigation? The thought chilled her.
“I received an invitation to a musicale and two balls last week that I had accepted. I just received three missives this morning concerning these outings.”
Confused, she met his steady stare. “What is it?” she whispered.
“It seems you are not welcome. It is an impossible situation. I have accepted, and if we do not show up, it will be a disaster. If I take you along…” He trailed off, leaving that conclusion to imagination.
Daphne had a very vivid imagination. “I see. Apparently, you and Annalise must attend these outings, Your Grace.”
“Daphne, I cannot simply leave you here,” James snapped. “I’m not that much a beast.”
She shrugged. “This is going to happen more and more, Your Grace. We both know it. You cannot ruin Anna’s chances simply because I have become the pariah of the Season.”
“I don’t want to leave you alone,” he growled.
She sighed unhappily. “I appreciate that. However, I cannot allow you to ruin Annalise’s chances because of my misst
eps.”
She was right, and they both knew it. James growled in the back of his throat. This was tearing him apart.
Daphne stood and paced to the window. It would be better if she were not here, she thought. She would not have to suffer, watching James, smelling James, longing for him. She would not have to see him take a mistress.
The pain of it was slowly ripping her apart. To see, every moment, what she loved most, forever out of her reach, was to die a little each day. Was this how Papa had felt when Mama had died? Was this why he used to be so maudlin, why he shut himself up in his study day after day, night after night, until she imagined his eyes would bleed from looking at the numbers? A swift, clean death was more compassionate. This was sheer, unrelieved hell.
This was to be her life.
“Daphne, I hate to bring this up now, of all times, but I swore an oath that I would put the question to you directly.”
She turned to him, carefully folding her hands across her belly, and waited for yet another blow.
“Brentwood wants you for a wife,” James told her heavily. “I have rejected his offer with increasing hostility over the past month, but he still persists.”
“He does not believe I could possibly deny him?” she asked, lips curving. “How trite.”
“Yes, quite,” he agreed. “What do you wish me to tell him?”
Daphne did not answer right away. She thought back over all the names and faces she had seen thus far, back to the very first ball, before life had become too complicated. James had called him a brute. An impoverished brute, at that.
Could she do no better? It was demoralizing to think that, of all the men she had spoken to, danced with and flirted with, the most loathsome of the bunch was the only one who had yet shown an interest. Still, had James not told her that marriage was the only way a woman could truly have any sense of freedom?
“What do you suggest?” she asked softly.
“Daphne, don’t,” he hissed.
She shook her head. “Please, James, answer me. I trust your judgment.”
He sighed. “I would not co-sign my worst enemy to Brentwood, Daphne. I think you should ask me to call him out for annoying you.”
“And start yet another scandal? I think not.” She turned back to the window. “If you would please convey to this most ardent suitor that I will consider his proposal with all the sincerity it was given, please.”
“Daphne, I do not think Brentwood is smart enough to see the implications.”
“Well, it might buy me more time,” was all she said.
He seemed to sense her mood. He came up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders.
“I would not have you consider such a man, Daphne. Marriage is for life.”
“I know, James.”
“He would eat through your dowry within a year.”
“I know,” she whispered sadly.
“There is more out there for you than a man like Brentwood.”
“The proposals are not precisely forthcoming at the moment. You know you should send me away.”
His hands tightened painfully on her shoulders. “Never,” he hissed in her ear.
“If you were truly my protector and guardian, you would,” she insisted. “Any father would know it had to be done. You would have me wait out the remainder of this Season, perhaps even another, and then you would bring me back to town to try again.”
“Daphne, I cannot simply allow you to leave without…” Me, he thought. As painful as it was, watching and wanting her from a distance, he knew he would go mad if he could not even see her beautiful face.
“You considered this when I first arrived. I should have chosen that option, James. The more society sees me, the worse the rumors will become.”
“You did nothing to deserve this.”
She shrugged. “How many innocent girls have been ruined from petty jealousy alone? I am not the first, nor will I be the last.”
“We will talk about this more, Daphne. Think about all your options. I would rather not leave you unprotected in some forgotten manor.”
“I would be happier in the remote countryside,” she reminded him.
“I don’t want you in the countryside, Daphne.”
“I dare say Countess le Dubois would not be unhappy to see me gone,” she whispered.
“Did that cursed tabby say something to you?” James barked.
She sent him a disbelieving look over her shoulder. “Would it matter if she had?”
“She is the most vile of creatures, Daphne. Do not consort with her kind.”
Daphne shrugged away from him. Her throat ached from keeping all the accusations deep inside. No good could come from snarling at her guardian. He was right. She needed to think and consider every option. Daphne meant to consider them well.
“Forgive me, Your Grace. I have a painting to finish.”
Daphne could not have prepared herself for the unhappiness she felt that first night alone. She usually enjoyed the quiet, especially while she painted, but the consuming emptiness of the house soon began to eat at her. She had never felt so alone in her life.
Darcie had returned earlier, full of innocent blushes and radiant dreams. She was…different, somehow, although Daphne could not pinpoint how. She wondered if bedsport marked a woman for life. That thought led her to thinking of James.
She absolutely refused to consider him further. Dejected, tired from hours spent at her easel, she cleaned up and changed for bed. That only made things worse, of course. She tossed and turned; her traitorous mind kept imagining James in bed with her. Disgusted, she rose and eased into her dressing gown.
Padding downstairs, she found Villiers in the library, dusting long-ignored tomes.
“Miss Daphne,” he exhaled nervously.
“I did not mean to interrupt your work, Villiers. Please continue.”
She moved over to a writing desk and found parchment and ink. She should send Elliot a note and a gift, she thought. That should occupy her mind for a while.
She sat down, thinking about how best to convey her concern for his health without sounding too clingy, yet genuine at the same time. It took a good half hour, but by the time she finished and read back over the note, she judged it time well-spent.
Villiers was still there, dusting away. Daphne welcomed his presence.
“Villiers, I wonder if you might do me a favor tomorrow,” she inquired politely.
“Of course, Miss Daphne.” He finished with his dust rag.
She told him what she wanted and ran upstairs to fetch a purse. It was going to be an expensive gift, but quite original, she thought happily. If nothing else, it might help make up for all the trouble Papa had put him through.
She quickly returned, and also offered the parchment. “Please see that this letter is delivered with the package.”
“This Morton fellow is very important to you, isn’t he, Miss?”
Daphne smiled benignly and nodded. “Yes, he is, Villiers. He is all the family I have left,” she explained.
Villiers left to put away the note and the purse. Although he trusted his staff, he knew it was foolish to be blindly faithful. He soon returned with a goblet of wine.
He frowned at Daphne. “Your maid told me that you ordered wine, Miss. She told me to bring it here straight away.”
“How odd. I never asked for wine. I have no tolerance for it.”
Confused, the butler left once more. Daphne wasted time peering over titles and peeking into closed cupboards. She found an ornate chess set and had just taken it out to explore further when Villiers returned.
“Was there a particular volume you were looking for, Miss Daphne?”
She smiled. “I am just wasting time, Villiers. Tell me, do you play chess?”
His eyes lit up with ill-suppressed delight.
“But of course, Miss Daphne.”
Chapter Fifteen
Daphne spent her time during the day painting and listening to Annalise as she talked about all the balls and musicales she attended. It should have been a difficult subject, but oddly enough, it contented Daphne.
She honestly had never cared for the constant running about that was so necessary during a Season. Annalise, however, seemed to enjoy herself. She was unlike most girls of their set, who were absorbed in fashions and gossip. Instead of flirting with every eligible man in attendance, Anna spent her time talking to people she considered interesting. Emily Stockholm was still one of her favorites.
Without Daphne following her around, constantly pouting or bickering, Annalise seemed to genuinely enjoy herself. She was blossoming under the prestige that her family name wrought. It was a joy to see.
They no longer whispered about the investigation at all. Daphne supposed that Chrys and Anna thought she had given it up. In truth, Daphne had not, but she no longer wanted to put her friends in any danger. They were worried enough with her social standing without adding murder suspects to the list.
Ten days later, she was still exempt from every invitation. While James stormed around, furious with the world in general, Daphne had adopted a cool resignation. It would take a very long time for everyone to forget, if they ever managed it. Annalise had argued her decision to merely accept and bide her time at first, but even she could not talk Daphne around.
“What will you do, stay locked up in this house with me, Anna? You would hate that. It does not bother me quite so much as it does you. Go, have a good time, and promise to tell me all about it in the morning,” Daphne had told her.
Daphne had come to enjoy her nightly meeting with Villiers in the library. She had never had such a challenging opponent in chess. He had a sharp mind and an easy skill that had her laughing throughout.
Of course, Darcie was a worry. The girl was acting more and more peculiar. At times, she took to ignoring Daphne completely, while others she followed around mindlessly. She was asking for more and more nights off, where she would stay out for nearly two days before she returned. And when she wasn’t gone, she kept trying to interrupt the chess game. It was annoying and it was worrisome.
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