“You expected to see me acting like an imbecile?”
He chucked her under the chin. “Are you feeling grumpy today, Little Daphne?”
She turned away. “Don’t talk to me as though I were a child, Linus. I am eighteen years old. Just because I am small—”
He nimbly stepped around her, stopping directly in front of her. With an apologetic smile, he said, “I hadn’t meant to hurt your feelings. And bear in mind, I have only seen you a handful of times since you were eight. I forget sometimes that you have quite grown up over the past decade.”
She nodded. The mistake was understandable when looked at logically. “I am always surprised at how very much you change between visits.”
“I grow handsomer each time, is that it?” He chuckled even as he tucked foppishly at his cuffs. Linus always did enjoy making others laugh. She liked that about him, though she acutely missed Evander’s tender constancy.
“How long before you must return to sea?” she asked. “I daresay your leave will be cut short considering the situation with the former colonies.”
“Actually, that is why I had hoped to intercept you.” His jovial expression sobered once more.
“Has something happened?”
“Come sit with me a moment,” Linus said, indicating the nearby sofa. When she obeyed, he followed and sat beside her. “I need your opinion on a matter of great importance.”
His uncharacteristic gravity made her uneasy.
“You have always had a very good head on your shoulders and, even as a child, showed remarkably good judgment. I have found myself in a difficult situation and could use some advice.”
“Of course.” She would do anything to help her family. In that moment, she welcomed the distraction as much as the opportunity to be of assistance.
“Father’s health has taken a decided turn for the worse,” Linus said.
“Adam hinted at that. How bad is he?”
Linus took hold of her hand as if offering strength in the face of bad news. Daphne’s heart crept into her throat.
“The physician does not expect him to live to the end of the year.”
He is dying. She blinked hard. How often had she tried to help him, to heal him? It was all for naught.
“At the risk of sounding insensitive,” Linus said, “the situation leaves me in a bind. I am Father’s only heir. The estate and all the responsibilities that go with it fall to me. It is my duty to return to the family seat and take up my role there, but—”
“But you also feel an obligation to the navy,” she said, thinking she understood.
“An obligation, yes, but a pull as well. I enjoy the sea. I enjoy the adventure and challenge. What would I do on land? It seems almost preposterous.”
“You have spent nearly half your life at sea, Linus. Of course living on land is a daunting prospect, perhaps even an unwelcome one at the moment.”
He sighed in audible relief. “Then I’m not merely a bad son?”
Daphne patted his hand. “Not at all. When you have spent years imagining your future one way, you cannot expect to let go of that without some resistance and—” Her stomach twisted at the painful realization that she might have been speaking about herself. “And regrets.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to end my naval career, but I also don’t know if leaving the estate behind won’t simply render me unable to focus enough to be of any use to the rest of the crew.”
Determining the direction of one’s future when one’s present has fallen completely to shambles—Daphne knew very well the overwhelming nature of that dilemma. “Perhaps you need to give yourself time to decide. When does your ship put out to sea again?”
“Three weeks.”
“And how long before its departure do you need to make your decision?”
Linus seemed to think a moment. “I could probably hold off on the decision up until two days before; that would allow for a very hasty trip to port if that is what I decide.”
“You simply need to decide to be calm about it.” Calm. Rational. “Think through what you want to do. Be logical.”
Linus nodded, looking calmer already. “It would probably help to talk to Adam about the needs of the estate and what condition it is in. And I may write to my captain, ask for his opinion on how much I might be needed on board.”
“Yes.” Daphne spoke as much to herself as to her brother. “Find where you are needed and in what capacity you are most likely to be happy.”
Linus wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a very brotherly squeeze. “Evander always did say you had more wisdom than the whole family combined. Thank you for sharing a bit of it with me.” He got to his feet, looking a little more himself but with a lingering hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “Now, one more nugget of knowledge, if you will. Where am I most likely to find Artemis?”
“She passed by just as Persephone and I reached home. I believe she was headed toward the back of the house, no doubt the garden.”
He smiled mischievously. “I believe I will see if I can startle her enough to produce one of her famous feigned swoons.” On that declaration, he made his way out of the room.
The day had begun on such a promising note, but then everything had fallen apart.
Father was dying. Though she’d not had his companionship for years, owing to the distance between them, both physical and mental, the thought of never seeing him again, never hearing his voice, drove a sharp shaft of pain deep into her heart.
What good were her remedies and tonics now? She would soon lose her father, and there was nothing she could do about it.
She closed her eyes against a flood of painful memories.
“Please drink it, Papa,” her nine-year-old self pleaded. “You will feel better.”
“I will be very quiet,” she, with her voice that was younger still, promised. “Only let me stay with you.”
Across a mere five years came her voice again. “Come live with us at Falstone Castle. Please. I cannot bear to leave you behind again.”
His response had seldom varied. “Leave me be. I am happier on my own.”
Her father preferred to not be with her. He was happier without her company. And he wasn’t the only one to leave her behind. Evander had. Linus had just now left without a backward glance. Adam and Persephone had their own lives, of which she was only a cursory part.
And James. James had been playing a role from the beginning. How was so much heartache to be endured?
“Find where you are needed.” She repeated her own advice.
But where was she needed? With Persephone consulting physicians without even a word of input from Daphne, something that in the past had generally always been done, her apothecary abilities didn’t seem likely to give her purpose amongst them, at least not to the extent they once had.
Her afternoons with Adam had seemed helpful to him, giving him someone with whom he could discuss ideas and philosophies and issues of the day. She was needed in that respect. In time, the child he and Persephone were now anticipating would likely take her place in that. Adam would have his own child to raise and care for.
Her happiness for her sister and brother-in-law came with an unexpected surge of something very like mourning. Their own family was expanding, and she would not truly be part of it.
A maiden aunt could be appreciated and enjoyed, but she would not really be needed. She would be unessential again, just as she’d been when she was a child. Evander would not be there to make certain she was noticed. Adam would be occupied with more personal concerns. Persephone, who had taken on the role of mother to Artemis when she was an infant, would take up that duty once more with her own child.
Daphne would have no place. She had learned as a child that usefulness went a long way to extending one’s welcome. Perhaps a more in-depth study of her herbs would
make her an asset to the community around Falstone Castle. If the local families and the vicar and even the staff at the castle benefited from her knowledge and skills, then she would serve a purpose among them. And she would stay busy. Endless occupation left a person with far less time for focusing on regrets.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Father was in a rare taking. He summoned James to the library the morning after the disastrous picnic. Only the obvious tension in Father’s jaw belied his composed demeanor. James remained standing as he waited for the lecture. He knew precisely what Father would say and did not intend to drag out the interview.
“I understand Miss Lancaster left in quite a hurry yesterday,” Father said.
“She and her sister chose to return to their London residence before the picnic began.”
Father’s gaze narrowed. “When do you intend to call on her again?”
“I do not, Father.” James borrowed a page from Father’s book, keeping his own expression confident and unruffled. “It seems we would not suit after all.”
“You have ended your courtship?” Father gave him the look that always indicated his doubt in James’s intelligence.
“No.”
The slightest hint of relief entered Father’s expression.
James kept his tone bland. “She ended the courtship. Quite unequivocally, in fact.”
Father’s gaze hardened. “What have you done?”
A question James had asked himself multiple times. He would not allow his father to see how upset he truly was over the previous day’s events. “It seems you underestimated Miss Lancaster’s intelligence—we both did. She discovered the true nature of this courtship and decided she deserved better.”
Father remained silent, his expression frozen in a look of contemplation. He, no doubt, was composing some new plan or another. He would suggest a new strategy, an attempt to convince Daphne to trust him again. James wanted no part of it.
He spoke before his father could. “My conduct these past weeks does not bear scrutiny. I look back on the decisions I have made and the course I have taken, and I am—” He pushed out a tense breath. His self-evaluation had not been pleasant. “I am entirely ashamed of myself.”
“Ashamed?” Father’s scoffing tone left little doubt as to the state of his conscience.
“I acted dishonorably. Though the duke was the one to suggest the possibility of a courtship between Miss Lancaster and I, he would never have approved of me doing so insincerely. He watched me with such suspicion that I am relatively certain he had begun to see through the masquerade. And I, for my own well-being, simply tried that much harder to be convincing. I misled him and the duchess by word and deed. And my deliberately deceptive courtship of Miss Lancaster was absolutely inexcusable.” James straightened his shoulders. “It is time I regained my hold on my own integrity.”
“You intend to simply let her walk away?” Tension entered Father’s tone. He so seldom allowed any emotion to color his words. James knew the interview would grow worse before he was permitted to leave.
“I intend to not impose upon her further.”
Father leaned forward, pressing his forearms against his desk and meeting James’s eyes with a look of warning. “You know the consequences of failure.”
“I think, Father, you and I define failure a little differently.”
Father didn’t so much as flinch. “You will no longer receive your income from the estate. Neither will your brother.”
“He is resilient.” James knew the loss would be a burden to Ben, and he would do all he could to help.
“That is rather coldhearted for you, Tilburn.” The comment was obviously meant as a mockery, an attempt to ruffle him.
“A trait, one could argue, I come by rightly.”
Father seemed to recognize the barb, though he did not acknowledge it. “Can you view your mother’s penury with so much indifference?”
“Not indifference, Father. Resignation. I know better than to expect you to act in a way that places any importance on the well-being of your family. I can do nothing to stop you from punishing any of us.”
Father shifted again. If James hadn’t spent a lifetime watching the man, he might have almost thought his father had grown uncomfortable. He knew better. Father was simply adjusting his attack.
“What of this family’s standing?” Father asked. “We will never be able to hold our heads up in Society again.”
“You know perfectly well that aborted courtships seldom reflect badly on the gentleman involved. This family stands at the mercy not of my actions but of Miss Lancaster’s and, more daunting still, the Duke of Kielder. His Grace could destroy us with a word. I doubt he would hesitate at all to do so. He is the one you ought to be bargaining with, not me. You two formulated the original agreement after all.”
Father paled noticeably. “The duke does not make bargains. Everyone knows that.”
“Then perhaps you should go begging, on your knees, for mercy. Though it is my understanding he isn’t overly fond of that either.”
“No. That won’t be necessary. I can fix this.” Father nodded repeatedly. “I can fix this.”
“How—?”
Father held a hand up to cut him off. “I can’t fix it for you. But I can make things right for me and for this title you do not deserve to inherit. I need not be brought down by your idiocy.”
James didn’t dare even guess what Father was planning now. “Good-bye, Father. Go save your precious standing. I have far more crucial things to worry about.” He turned on his heel and left the room, intending to put to rights the many things he’d done wrong of late. Refusing to allow Father to manipulate him into sacrificing his integrity once again was but one item on his list. Talking to Ben was another.
The butler approached James as he reached the foot of the stairs.
“You look concerned, Billingsley,” James said.
“Cook has declared that she cannot prepare the venison her ladyship has requested,” the butler explained. “The meat intended for this evening has gone off.”
“Can she not obtain another cut? Or simply prepare a different dish?”
“I could not say, my lord,” the butler replied. “She wished the matter settled by you.”
“No one else in the family is capable of seeing to this?” Why had he even asked the question? No one was ever capable of handling anything.
“Lady Techney directed the issue to you.”
Of course she did. “I will see to it.”
The butler seemed satisfied and left to see to his other duties. On his way to the kitchen, James encountered the gardener, who spoke at length about an aphid infestation. Moments after directing the gardener to do his best in dealing with the pests, James addressed the coachman’s concern over the need for a new axle on the traveling coach before the family returned to Lancashire. Then a footman gave James a letter from the gamekeeper at Techney Manor expressing concerns about poachers. This was Father’s estate, deuce take it, yet everything fell on James’s shoulders—James, who had been cut off by his father. James, who had been all but disinherited. He needed a respite, an ally. He’d had that for one brief moment, and he’d thrown it away. He’d lost Daphne’s friendship as well as her unfailingly calm head in the midst of trouble, her support and encouragement.
He pushed back his regrets, something he’d done almost constantly since her departure, and set his mind to discovering his brother’s very effective hiding place. After a moment’s contemplation, the answer became clear. The only place a gentleman could have any hope of avoiding company was in his own bedchamber.
James knocked on Ben’s door. His business with his brother held greater sway than the crises of the staff.
Ben opened the door, nodding to James.
“Ben, I—” James’s eyes darted around the room, taking in th
e traveling trunk awaiting attention. “Are you leaving?”
Ben dropped a pair of cuff links into a drawstring bag and tossed it into a portmanteau. “In the morning.”
An open traveling case sat half full on the floor. Several shirts lay strewn across the bed.
“When did you make this decision?” Had he offended his brother somehow?
Ben carefully folded a shirt—he hadn’t the means to hire a valet to see to his clothing. “When I received the invitation from Mr. Windover.”
Windover? “Miss Lancaster’s brother-in-law?”
Ben nodded, his eyes wide with obvious anticipation. “We’ve been corresponding ever since Miss Lancaster wrote to tell him of my situation. I received an invitation this morning to be a guest at his home. He offered to show me around his land and talk about investments and changes that might help me begin to turn around my own estate.”
Investments Ben would soon not have the income to undertake. James had decided the night before that he ought to have been up front with his brother from the beginning. Ben’s income had been on the line, and he had deserved to know so he could prepare himself for the possibility of failure on James’s part. Yet another well-meaning mistake he had made.
“I am afraid I have some bad news,” James said, his stomach twisting. How did one tell one’s brother that he had gambled away his inheritance?
“How bad?” Ben did not seem terribly concerned, his focus still on his packing.
“It involves Father.”
Ben looked up at him. “That is bad. What did he do this time?”
No words came. Ben was going to lose everything. He couldn’t think of any way to ease the impact of that revelation. All the effort Ben had gone to, the sacrifices he’d made over the past couple of years, his newfound correspondent would be for naught.
“James?”
James sat on the edge of the bed, reminding himself that Ben needed to know his situation before he committed to anything he could no longer afford. “My courtship with Miss Lancaster fell through.”
Romancing Daphne Page 20