The duchess took pity on him, going so far as to invite him to step into the room and informing him that dinner would be served soon.
Father made his way inside, though with obvious uncertainty. James could not recall a time when his father had looked anything but utterly confident. The sight proved both disconcerting and oddly enjoyable.
“So you are James’s father,” Lieutenant Lancaster said when Father came near where he stood.
The lieutenant had never referred to James by his Christian name—the young gentleman likely thought of him by several names unfit for company.
“I am.” Still, Father appeared unsure of himself. How had they upended him so quickly? No one had been outright rude, nor insulting. They simply appeared to not particularly care for what consequence he might be in a position to claim.
“You must be very proud,” the lieutenant said. “He is quite well thought of.”
“Is he?” The genuine surprise on Father’s face was particularly lowering. “I have heard any number of unflattering things about him lately.”
The lieutenant appeared momentarily taken aback, though something of a twinkle passed quickly through his eyes. He spoke next in a tone of conciliatory explanation, as though he’d hit upon the reason for Father’s ignorance. “I can only assume such unfounded gossip is circulating exclusively in less exalted circles than those in which this family walks.”
A direct hit, to be sure. Father had quite neatly been reminded that though he might lord it over his family and toadying admirers, his current company held positions decidedly above his touch.
“Is this truly your father, Lord Tilburn?” Miss Artemis asked with an air of absolute believable ignorance. Were such a thing not entirely beyond the pale, she might very well have made a name for herself on the stage. “I have wished to make his acquaintance.”
“Shall I make you known to him?” James hoped his acting abilities were sufficient to disguise the question as a mere social nicety when he’d actually asked for the sake of determining what was expected of him.
“Yes, please.”
James undertook the introduction, then figuratively stepped back to watch what would unfold.
“Our father is a scholar,” Miss Artemis told James’s father. “He has many times been quite in demand by the dons of Oxford and Cambridge, and many of his papers on ancient Greece have been published to accolades and widespread acclaim. What do you study, Lord Techney?”
Father? Study? James managed to keep his expression neutral, but only just.
“I have never really been of an academic bent,” Father answered, his tone clearly indicating his disapproval of those who were.
Miss Artemis gave him a look of utter commiseration. “We had a neighbor who said that a lot.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He was terribly slow and not at all bright.”
To say Father looked startled would be a gross understatement. If not for the look of sweet innocence on Miss Artemis’s face, he likely would have taken immediate umbrage at the insinuation that he was himself unintelligent.
“If you do not tend toward academics, you must have some other accomplishments. Do you travel? My brother”—she glanced briefly at Lieutenant Lancaster—“has seen nearly all the world. He has stepped foot on five continents. To how many continents have you traveled?”
“I had my Grand Tour as a youth.” Father had always been quite proud of having undertaken that rite of passage.
“Oh, pish.” Miss Artemis waved off this tidbit as though it held no weight whatsoever. “Europe hardly counts. We have tenants who have been to Europe. Surely you’ve seen other parts of the world.”
“I am not a traveler.”
She instantly looked sympathetic. “Linus did say some of their very young sailors do not travel well either. They haven’t the constitution for it, poor things.”
Father had been compared to a lackwit, a tenant, and a lower-class cabin boy. One thing James would say for the evening’s entertainment: it was thorough. A beat of silence just long enough to grow quite uncomfortable passed. Father actually tugged at his cravat. James had never seen his father so thoroughly bested, and by a fifteen-year-old girl, nonetheless. What else did this formidable family have planned?
Into the thick silence, the Falstone House butler announced dinner. The duke entered with his wife, their air of aristocratic superiority one the prince himself would have struggled to emulate. Humble pie seemed the menu item of the evening.
Lieutenant Lancaster accompanied Daphne, and James walked into the dining room with Miss Artemis on his arm. She kept up her role nearly flawlessly, only once betraying herself by grinning up at James. He kept his own smile in check by clenching his jaw.
The dinner conversation passed in much the same vein as the premeal discussion. James sat near enough the duchess to overhear her ask Father about individuals who stood so far above him in consequence that he could not possibly have any personal acquaintance with them. The lieutenant, seated on Father’s other side, brought up matters of state only to interrupt himself and apologize for having forgotten that Lord Techney had not been embracing his Parliamentary duties. Miss Artemis continually glanced at their guest with a look of mingled pity and disappointment. His Grace more or less ignored him. Daphne kept her eyes on her plate, though James could not say if this came about because of her timidity or because of a need to hide her amusement.
Father looked thoroughly relieved when the ladies rose and left the gentlemen. James thought the reaction terribly precipitous. As for himself, he had no doubt the evening was far from over.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The duke nodded to his butler, an indication that the man ought to bring in the usual after-dinner fare. He returned, however, without a single decanter or glass, instead carrying a silver salver on which lay a box any gentleman would recognize as containing a pair of Manton’s dueling pistols. The duke lifted the cherrywood box and set it on the table.
James reminded himself forcefully of his instructions to appear unsurprised. Fortunately, Father’s attention was so riveted on the unexpected sight, he paid James not a whit of attention.
The duke silently pulled an immaculate pistol from its box. He examined it thoughtfully. “I understand you have been quite talkative these past few days.”
Father must have sensed the question was aimed at him. “I am not sure what you mean.”
“Rumor has it you have told anyone who will listen that your son is a profligate, worthless, and irresponsible young man. Yet I have placed my confidence in him this past week or more while my secretary is on holiday. Tell me”—the duke’s tone had turned decidedly cold—“which of us is mistaken in his character? You?” His Grace pinned Father with a look so black James shuddered despite not being its recipient. “Or I?”
“I . . . uh . . .” Father’s eyes darted between the pistol held so confidently in the duke’s hand and a deadly looking dagger at the ready near the duke’s side.
“It is also widely discussed that you claim your son is an inveterate gambler, without morals or self-control, that he has no regard for your fortune or good name. Lord Tilburn has been a guest in this house in the company of members of my family, and we have seen not a hint of what you claim. Again I ask you: Who is the idiot? You? Or every member of this family?”
Father paled noticeably. “I may have exaggerated a little.”
“And that in itself is another falsehood,” the duke said. “If there is one thing I cannot abide it is a jackanapes with the gall to lie to me while he is sitting at my table.”
Not an ounce of color remained in Father’s face. James could hardly fault him for his fear. The Dangerous Duke was so called for good reason.
“Your son has found a place in this family, not because of your efforts but because of his character. If you malign him, you malign this fa
mily, and that I will not tolerate. Lest it has slipped your notice, I am the Duke of Kielder.”
His Grace set his pistol on the table but kept one hand on it. The duke, the lieutenant, even the butler glared at the quivering Earl of Techney. James very much feared his father would suffer the swoon Miss Artemis had offered to feign.
“I hold greater sway than the Royal Family,” the duke said firmly. “Society dares not contradict me in anything. A single word from me, a look, and you would find yourself irrevocably and universally shunned.”
The duke, then, understood Father’s only weakness—his desire for prestige and importance. James never could threaten him in that way, so every attempt he made to undermine his father’s bullying proved fruitless.
“You would ruin me?” Father’s voice actually broke.
“Ruining people is for the unimaginative,” the duke said.
Father’s belabored attempt to swallow was likely heard as far afield as Ireland. “I believe I understand your message.”
“How surprisingly astute,” the duke drawled. Without a word, he rose and left the room, obviously intending to join the ladies in the drawing room. His companions did the same.
“I cannot imagine what you have done to earn yourself such fierce defenders,” Father said under his breath, walking at James’s side. The remark carried less censure than his comments usually did.
“I chose to be honest with them,” James replied. “In return, I learned to put the feelings of others above my own—a lesson, I assure you, I was not taught at home.”
“I have had quite enough set downs for one day, Tilburn.” Father kept his voice low, but his tone snapped. “You humiliated our family and now have chosen to see me threatened for attempting to pick up the pieces of our reputation.”
They stepped into the drawing room on the heels of the duke and Lieutenant Lancaster. Father’s expression immediately became one of meek acceptance, all the fight James had heard in his tone but a split second before evaporating.
James did not dwell overly long on the change. As always, when he knew Daphne to be nearby, his eyes immediately sought her out. She sat near the fireplace, watching him with a questioning look and a concern he found infinitely touching.
She rose as he reached her side. “Adam would not tell me what he and Linus planned to do,” she said. “I hope he has not caused you difficulties.”
“Not at all.” He hoped his smile was reassuring. “They may have done the impossible and convinced my father to, for lack of a better expression, stop talking so much.”
“I hope you are right.” Her eyes focused over his shoulder, and an unmistakable aura of uncertainty settled around her.
James turned in the direction of her gaze and watched his father approach them. A surge of protectiveness swept over him. He would not allow Father to injure Daphne’s tender feelings any further. He moved closer to her, knowing he likely appeared very proprietary but hoping the stance would prove a warning.
“Miss Lancaster,” Father said.
James resisted the urge to wrap his arm around her shoulders. The lieutenant might very well have him keelhauled were he to step so far out of the bounds of propriety. Still, he kept close to her side, prepared to resort to fisticuffs with his own father in a drawing room if necessary to protect Daphne from the man’s vitriol.
“Yes, Lord Techney?” Daphne trembled slightly as she spoke, yet her voice held an admirable note of determination.
Hang propriety, he inwardly declared. He took gentle hold of her arm and stepped the slightest bit in front of her, conveying without words that Father was not to mistreat her.
Father’s eyes darted quickly in the direction of the duke and lieutenant. His countenance paled a little. “My wife has spoken of little beyond the efficacy of your throat tonics. I felt to express her . . . our gratitude.”
Daphne dipped her head ever so slightly. “I was pleased to be of assistance, something she seemed to receive little enough of.”
James saw his father’s jaw tighten in response to that well-placed verbal thrust.
“I will endure a set down from the Duke of Kielder but not from an overlooked debutante who—”
“That is quite enough, Father.” James spoke through clenched teeth.
“Boy, do not—”
Across the room, the duke cleared his throat loudly. The lieutenant unsubtly moved his sword hand to his scabbard.
Daphne drew the smallest bit closer to James. He kept his hand on the back of her arm, allowing his thumb to lightly stroke it in what he hoped she interpreted as a gesture of support. If Father uttered another disparaging word to her, James would fillet him and leave the duke to deal with the remains.
Father offered something of a bow and stepped away, finding a seat somewhat removed from the rest of the company. James remained at Daphne’s side, still thrown off by the odd sight of his father cowed.
Miss Artemis dove into a rather heart-wrenching recitation of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.
James led Daphne to a sofa, taking his seat beside her.
“You must think me the worst sort of coward,” she whispered too softly for anyone else to overhear.
“Why on earth would I think that?” he replied in the same low tone.
“I ought not to have shrunk away from your father. I ought to have been confident and unshaken.” Her face fell. “Instead I stood there shaking, waiting for him to say something cutting.”
Miss Artemis’s performance completely held the attention of the others in the room. James cupped Daphne’s chin with his hand and turned her face up toward his before pressing a light kiss on her forehead. He lingered, fighting the temptation to actually, truly kiss her.
A man might expect a lot of different reactions after tenderly kissing a lady with whom he’d fallen in love. James, however, hadn’t anticipated her face crumbling, a sheen of tears in her eyes, and a swift, silent flight from the room.
* * *
Running from the drawing room hadn’t been part of the night’s planned entertainment, but Daphne hadn’t known what else to do. He’d held her so tenderly. He’d defended her to his father. She could feel her defenses crumbling entirely, and it terrified her.
James appeared in the empty sitting room only a moment after she arrived.
She tightened her clasped hands, tension radiating through every muscle in her body.
“I am sorry,” James said. “I should not have kissed you as I did, especially in front of so many people.”
I should not have kissed you. This most recent kiss was far less personal than the one they’d shared in front of the mirror. Did he regret that as well?
She tried to step away, but he took her hand, holding her near him. Gently, he brought her back to his side.
“What would it take, my Little Sparrow, to keep you from flying away again?”
The long-treasured endearment seized her heart and rendered her momentarily unable to speak.
“Ours was a difficult beginning,” he said, “but I swear to you, my affection for you is deep and real.”
“I do want to believe you,” she whispered. “But I have been hurt too many times.”
“Mark my words. I will find a way to prove myself.” He leaned toward her and lightly kissed the tip of her nose. A shiver tiptoed down her spine and echoed through her arms and legs. He stood so close she could smell his shaving soap and feel his warmth.
He leaned his forehead against hers long enough to say again, “I will find a way.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Why do I have the feeling you are not attending to me in the least, Tilburn?” Lieutenant Lancaster’s amused comment broke through James’s abstraction. He had, in fact, been woolgathering, a seemingly constant state for him of late.
“My apologies,” he said. “I am afraid my tho
ughts were wandering.”
He had far too much to think on to entirely prevent such a thing. The rumors his father had started seemed to be dissipating. Society eyed him with greater respect and acceptance. He would leave in only a day’s time to begin his new “job” in Shropshire. And yet Daphne weighed more heavily on his mind than anything else.
I do want to believe you. But I have been hurt too many times. Those words hung in his mind, an unshakeable reminder that he had caused her pain and that those wounds continued undermining his efforts to win her regard. He didn’t know how to overcome that obstacle.
The lieutenant handed him a folder of papers regarding the Shropshire estate they’d been discussing for the better part of two hours. “We’ve covered most everything, I think. Adam’s man of business can answer any further questions you might have after I’ve left port.”
What must the gentleman think of his newly acquired steward if he could not focus for the space of a single interview? “I appreciate your forbearance and assure you I am not usually so easily distracted.”
Lieutenant Lancaster merely smiled. “I would not have hired you if I thought otherwise. You see, the protective older brother in me is determined to hate you for the rest of your life.” A light chuckle took the bite out of his words. “However, the fair-minded gentleman I would like to think I am beneath all that recognized long since that you are surprisingly trustworthy.”
James pushed out a breath as he slumped back in his chair. “If I can convince you of that, why can’t I seem to persuade your sister to believe as much?”
“Lud, man. Why do you think?” The lieutenant shook his head in exasperation. “She has far more to lose should she be wrong.”
James rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He’d been scrutinizing the situation night and day without coming to any sort of conclusion. Securing Daphne’s trust felt impossible, yet he knew he couldn’t live without her. What could he possibly do?
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