A Return of Devotion

by Kristi Ann Hunter

  He came over and sat at the table. Daphne’s lips moved, but she couldn’t find any words. This was something even she’d never imagined. She’d pictured seeing him again, of her being worthy, but never this bare apology.

  “I’d be pleased to meet this young man, if I can. By all accounts you’ve done something remarkable with him. And with the others. There’s a man back at that house who you’ve impressed very much, Ace.”

  “Papa,” Daphne whispered. And then she was there wrapped in his arms. He still smelled of cigars and lemon drops. It was wonderful. “I’ve missed you, Papa. And I forgave you a long time ago.”

  Finally, they separated and she sat back in her seat to smile at her son. “This is Benedict. He’s going to be the best furniture maker in the country.”

  “Exciting day,” Graham said as he stepped out onto the porch where William was sitting on the steps, staring down at the cottage. “Here.”

  William took the glass Graham extended and sipped it before setting it on the stone beside him.

  “So you were here”—William swept his arm in a circle, indicating the grounds—“when it was full? With children?”

  Graham nodded. “For a while. It was something to see. The portrait gallery was their rainy-weather playroom. That’s where I first saw Benedict. I thought he was yours.”

  “I don’t blame you.” William took another sip. “For a moment I thought he was mine.”

  The men sat silently for a few moments. Graham swirled his drink, looking into the small whirlpool it created. “It’s good work they do. Thankless and not very popular, but good.”

  William’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I thought it was over, as the children have gone to families or are preparing for jobs. Kit can hardly raise other children if she’s married to a future earl.”

  Graham watched William for a moment and then shook his head. “Sometimes I forget not everyone was raised with a man like my father. For England’s sake I wish my father could raise all the future title-bearers.”

  William snorted a laugh. “That would be a crowded house.”

  A grin crossed Graham’s face. “I wish all title-bearers were like my father, then.” He sighed. “Having a title doesn’t mean your purpose is defined for you. It is possible to be noble and still give of yourself. Yes, there are responsibilities—and you’ve already got them, whereas mine are hopefully many years down the road—but if that’s all you are, then you’re missing the point.”

  Graham stood and walked a few steps down so he could lean on the railing and still be eye level with William. “My father taught me to be a good man first and a good earl second. Kit’s helping me do that. Just because they’ve stopped taking in children doesn’t mean there aren’t still women to help.”

  “What if a woman wants to keep her child, like Daphne did?” William couldn’t imagine Daphne walking away from Benedict. It would crush her.

  Graham sighed and finished his drink. “There’s a woman at Mrs. Lancaster’s house right now. Kit and I brought her into town with us. She embroiders like a dream, but she nearly burnt the house down trying to make soup. Think about the women you know, Chemsford. Even Daphne. What skills do they have to support themselves and a child? Who’s going to hire them?”

  He could. William drained his own glass as the idea took root and started to bloom. He could hire them. The woman might not have been able to make soup, but she’d been willing to try. That had to mean something, right? When Daphne came back, he’d tell her his idea. She knew the situation these women were in, would know if his idea was even viable.

  All he needed was for her to come back.

  Morris was in the middle of tying William’s cravat when the sound of a wagon came through the open window. William jerked away from the valet and ran down the stairs, ignoring the flapping ends of his cravat until one slapped him in the face. He tied a hasty knot and tucked the ends inside.

  He cut through the library to get to the side of the house where the path wound around to the servants’ door. There he found Benedict and Mr. Leighton unloading carved sections of moulding. There wasn’t, however, any sign of Daphne.

  Mr. Leighton clapped a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and then carried his load inside, leaving William and the boy beside the wagon.

  The young man’s shoulders went back and his head went up. Then he jerked his cap off his head and stuffed it in his pocket, leaving a tuft of blond hair sticking up in the back. Had William looked like that as he learned how to be a man? Had he stood like that on those excruciating visits home when his father would examine his grades and sporting accomplishments before inquiring about his friendships and connections? The glimpse into the past was more than a bit disconcerting.

  “I took my mother back to town yesterday.”

  William nodded. “I heard. I’m glad you were able to take care of her.”

  “If I may, my lord, I’d like to ask a question.”

  As difficult as growing up had been for William, he’d always known his place in the world. He’d always known that no matter how awkward he was or how much he blundered, he would one day be the marquis. This boy had no such assurance, yet here he stood, confident and forthright. “Go ahead.”

  “Did you do something to her?”

  William slid back a step in surprise. “What? No. I would never hurt her.”

  At least, not intentionally. Their journey had not been easy, though.

  “She loves this place. I know yesterday there was a lot to take in, but she’s never run before. I’m just wondering why she’s running now. I’m worried. If she doesn’t come back, what will happen to Sarah, Eugenia, and Reuben?”

  The bottom fell out of William’s world. “What do you mean if she doesn’t come back?”

  The boy shuffled his feet and his gaze dropped before snapping back up, along with his posture. “Mrs. Lancaster offered her the store and she’s thinking about taking it.”

  Daphne had been a bit of a disaster as a housekeeper, but she’d managed. “She’d hate being a shopkeeper,” he murmured.

  “I know,” Benedict said. “And I think you might be the only one who can stop her.”

  He rode his horse into Marlborough, then went straight from the stable to Lancaster’s.

  Inside, three customers stood around the counter. Mrs. Lancaster moved back and forth, smiling, talking, and filling shopping lists. There was no sign of Daphne.

  “Good morning,” Mrs. Lancaster called to him with a smile. “It’s a busy day. I’ll be with you in a moment. You just wait at the end of the counter there.”

  His eyebrows raised as he went to the end of the counter. She didn’t seem to be telling anyone else where to stand.

  “Good day, Mrs. Roth,” she greeted another customer. “I say, quite a spell of rain we had. Washed all sorts of things onto my walk. I spent so much time sweeping I never made it home last night. Stayed in my upstairs rooms instead.”

  William didn’t watch the interaction but kept an ear on it. Was it possible Mrs. Lancaster was talking in some sort of secret message, like she and Daphne had done the first time he’d been brought in here? If so, what was it? The rain had washed something up and she’d swept it off? Had she sent Daphne away?

  No, that didn’t seem right. He hadn’t spoken to this woman much, but Daphne had talked about her a lot, and sending anyone away didn’t seem like something she’d do. There was something else, then. Mrs. Lancaster said she’d stayed the night. Had Daphne stayed the night? Here?

  “There you are, Mrs. Jenkins. I’m glad to see you. Those spices just came in yesterday. You wouldn’t want to miss them.”

  “You always have exactly what I need, Mrs. Lancaster. I’ll be back next week.” The other woman waved as she left the store.

  Now William was all but positive Daphne was above the store. He just needed to figure out how to get there. He pushed away from the counter and looked at the myriad of goods.

  “While you’re waiting, my lord, you
may want to look at the barometers in the back of the store. They’ll help you predict when the next rain is coming.”

  “I’ll do just that. Thank you.” He nodded to Mrs. Lancaster and the other women waiting to be helped and then turned toward the back of the store. On a shelf sat two barometers. To their left was a door.

  As quietly as possible, he slipped out the door and found himself at the bottom of a set of stairs. His heart beat harder as he climbed them. What happened when he got to the top of these stairs could be the best or worst moment of his life. It all depended on whether or not Daphne came back.

  He knocked on the door. It was a few minutes before it opened, and then he saw Daphne standing there. His impulse was to gather her into his arms and never let go, to claim her strength and hope and imagination as his own for the rest of his life.

  “Daphne,” he said, curling his fingers into the legs of his trousers to keep from reaching for her. “May I come in?”

  Chapter forty

  Daphne wanted to say no, he could tell. But it was probably much easier to plan on saying no to him than it was to actually say it. She opened the door farther and waved him into the room.

  “My father will be coming back over in a bit. He’s staying at the inn, but we’re eating dinner together.”

  “I . . . that’s good. You should get to know your father again.” William rubbed his hands on his trousers.

  She sat in one chair and he sat in another. The room was simple and plain. He wasn’t sure he’d ever deliberately gone into anywhere like this.

  “Kit and Graham told me more about what you did—do—for the women.”

  Daphne shrugged and picked at her skirt. “I’ve always done this for the children.”

  William’s brain, which had been running ahead with ideas ever since he’d talked to Graham yesterday, stumbled to a halt. “What do you mean?”

  “I did it for Benedict. When we first started, Kit was thinking about the women, but I just thought about the children.”

  William tried to reconcile everything he knew about Daphne, about Haven Manor, about the children, and the women, but it didn’t make sense. “Why?”

  Daphne looked up, a deep line between her brows. “What do you mean why?”

  “Kit wasn’t the one who’d been through it. She couldn’t help those women. Not the same way you could.”

  Her confusion cleared and she blinked at him. “I couldn’t do that.”

  “Maybe not before, since you weren’t telling Benedict, but what’s stopping you now? Daphne, you’ve come so far. You know forgiveness. You know what it’s like to be scared.”

  “And alone,” Daphne whispered. “It’s so very, very lonely. Even though Kit was with me and I’d separated myself from people most of my life, I’d never felt so alone.”

  William bit his tongue so hard he tasted a bit of copper. He wanted to press her, to ask her how it would have been if someone had come alongside her and told her they’d felt the same way. But Daphne didn’t need that. She needed to reach the conclusion on her own. He realized that now.

  He’d pressed her every step of the way once he’d grasped the idea of courting her. He’d looked at the issues, weighed them, decided he was strong enough to face them, and gone after what he wanted. He’d never given Daphne a chance to catch up.

  Was it any wonder that she’d run?

  He didn’t know how long they sat there. He glanced around for a book but found only a deck of cards, so he moved quietly over to the table and started playing a game of patience.

  Eventually, she looked up. “Do you know how wonderful it would have been if someone I could actually believe had held me and said, ‘I understand’?”

  William slid the cards to the side and folded his arms on the table. “No, I don’t. But I’d like to, if you’re willing to tell me.”

  She didn’t think she’d be making this walk again, but here she was, cutting through the woods to Haven Manor. William was on one side, leading his horse behind him, and her father was on the other. As they walked, she pointed out trees she liked that had grown larger over the years she’d been taking this path, and told them stories of her favorite moments at Haven Manor.

  The sun was starting to sink as they approached the house. Benedict was harnessing the donkey to Mr. Leighton’s wagon, and a huge smile cracked his face when he saw her. He gave a nod to William, then returned to his task.

  Instead of going in the kitchen door, William turned the reins of his horse over to Reuben and then took her around to the front door. Daphne paused at the bottom of the stairs. “I can’t go in there.”

  “Why not? I assure you Maxwell and Charlotte will be leaving tomorrow, but they should be easy enough to avoid for one evening.”

  She shook her head. Could the man have truly forgotten the way it worked? “I’m the housekeeper, William. I can’t go in the front door.”

  He frowned. “Then don’t walk in as the housekeeper.”

  She gasped. “Are you dismissing me?”

  He tilted his head in her direction, a disapproving expression on his face. “You are a gentleman’s daughter.” He pointed at her father, who looked between the two of them in silence. “If he gets to come in the front door, so do you.”

  Papa chuckled. It was such a wonderful sound, one she never thought she’d hear again. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to pretend that’s who she was just one more time. She took one of her father’s arms and one of William’s and they walked up together.

  Kit was pacing the front hall when Daphne walked in. Her sigh when she saw Daphne could have been deep enough to make the curtains across the room flutter. “Good. You got her back here.”

  Daphne narrowed her eyes. “You’re the one who helped me leave.”

  “I know. And every time I tell you to do something it goes wrong, so stop listening to me.”

  This time the laughter came from everyone in the room. It set the tone for the evening, and Daphne couldn’t remember a better night. A dinner tray was taken up to their unwanted guests, and Jess was convinced to eat in the dining room with the rest of them.

  Kit pitched in to help clean up and soon everyone was turning in. Daphne brushed out her hair and changed for bed, but the night felt incomplete.

  Kit was already sitting out on the back porch when Daphne arrived. They sat on the steps, staring out at the water until Jess joined them.

  “You know you’d make a terrible shopkeeper,” Jess said as she sat on Daphne’s other side.

  “Jess!” Kit gasped. “You can’t just say that to her.”

  “Why not? It’s true. Too many people.”

  Daphne didn’t say anything as her friends squabbled. She just stared into the dark and smiled.

  Finally, they quieted, and Kit lay her head on Daphne’s shoulder. “Do you want to know what I realized when I went back to London with Graham?”

  “Hmmm?” Daphne murmured.

  “I’m not the same person I was. Somewhere along the way I changed. I think you have, too.”

  Of course she had. She’d had to. She’d had to be strong for her son and the other children, had to be happy so their situations didn’t throw a dismal gloom over their lives. She’d had to learn skills she never thought possible. She had to change to survive.

  “I know if you were back in that ballroom now, it would be different. Despite your imagination, I think you’d have seen who he really was.”

  “If she didn’t faint first,” Jess said in a low undertone.

  They all laughed, but Daphne thought it through and realized there was truth to that. She’d fantasized about William, yes, but not when he was there—or at least not when she’d known he was there. Unlike with Maxwell, she’d seen William as he truly was: confident, and yes, a bit arrogant, but that came with being raised with a title around his neck. She’d seen his sense of honor and willingness to make something right. But she’d seen those traits over time because they were really there, not because she’d wished t
hem there.

  “You know something?” Daphne smiled and leaned her head on top of Kit’s. “I think you’re correct.”

  There was a carriage out front.

  Daphne stood in the music room, watching the footman secure the trunks.

  If she didn’t do it now, she’d never have another chance. Would she always wonder? Perhaps. But the past was a weight to make her sink or a foundation to build her life upon. If she were going to build a new life, she needed to cut the ties to the old one.

  Majestic music played through her mind, spurring her on as she opened the door and stepped into the front hall.

  He was there, with his wife, preparing to leave.

  He held his cane in one hand and his hat in the other while he frowned in her direction. “What do you want?”

  With that attitude, an apology was probably out of the question. “I wanted to see you,” she said, thankful her skirt could hide her suddenly shaky knees. “And, I suppose, I wanted you to see me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

  “Wouldn’t that be nice.” He frowned at her again but then opened the door and told his wife to wait in the carriage. And she went. Daphne rather wondered about that. Her husband was in the same room as a woman he’d had a child with and she walked away without a word.

  Mr. Oswald closed the door behind his wife and then ran a hand over his face. “I didn’t know.”

  “I know that. I also know it wouldn’t have changed anything. You were already married and likely wouldn’t have believed me anyway.”

  “Probably not. So what is the point of this tête-à-tête? The boy doesn’t need my money when he’s got his lordship sponsoring him.”

  Daphne cocked her head to the side. “Does it bother you?”