The brush crunched under his boot steps as he came forward and then stopped abruptly several feet away. His fishing rod slipped from his fingers and he gasped.
And she would have preferred his mocking her for not being as skilled a fisherman or rider as he was than that soft exhalation. Daphne’s lower lip quivered and, for the first time since she’d raced over that fallen trunk in her quest for fortunes, breathed the great fear aloud. “Is it…broken?” She peered up at him. Almost thirteen, he was so very tall. Many more inches taller than herself. He was always so confident. Where she’d rolled her eyes at him in the past, now she wished him to be that same kind of confident.
Instead, his cheeks turned white and his eyes rounded.
Tears swelled in her eyes once more. “It is broken, isn’t it?”
Daniel blinked several times and then sank to a knee beside her. “I…it…I think it is.”
A single tear slid down her cheek. Followed by another. And with his faltering confirmation, she forced herself to truly look at the limb. Jutted unnaturally to the left, her leg was impossibly turned. And no matter how much she willed it, no matter how much pain she endured, she couldn’t get it straightened.
“Don’t,” he said gruffly.
She angrily slashed at her cheeks and then winced. After countless moments lying here, the sun had scorched them. “Just go,” she cried softly. “Let me die here.” Daphne flopped down on the ground and draped her arm over her eyes. That way, she didn’t have to see how Daniel kept looking at her ugly leg and swallowing loudly.
“How long have you been here?” he asked with so much concern that Daphne suddenly wished she’d been less bothersome to him over the years.
“I don’t know. I left the schoolroom a-at ten.” Her governess was, no doubt, nipping from the decanter, as she often did whenever she had a chance to imbibe.
Daniel’s frown deepened. “It is nearly one o’clock.” And in an un-Daniel-like manner, he flicked his gaze around the copse. “My brother would know what to do.” Alistair, the future Earl of Montfort, the proper young man who had earned the respect of all in the county. Mama and Papa always said some lady would be lucky to land him as a husband.
She, on the other hand, if she had to marry a miserable boy, would far prefer one who rode and spit and fished—like Daniel. Not that she wished to marry Daniel. Or any boy. “Well, Alistair is not here. You are.” And another thing she’d never dare admit… She was glad for it. As much as he’d always teased her, this was Daniel. Her best friend. Her only friend, really.
Daniel gave a jerky nod.
“W-Will you go for my papa?” she whispered. For the truth was, she’d rather give up riding Ginger before dying here. And certainly, not dying here alone.
Daniel shook his head. No? He’d surely not leave her to die here. “It will take too long,” he said, his frown deepening. “I will help you home.”
“Y-you will?” He’d told her time enough when she’d been stung by a bee two years ago what he thought about girls and tears. Still, his offer brought another round of tears.
Daniel puffed his chest and gave a nod. “I will. Mirabel is tethered a short distance from here.”
Together, with some struggling, he managed to get her upright and onto her right foot. Looping an arm at her waist, he caught her weight against him and guided her slowly through the muddied copse. With every jarring movement, her belly turned, until she feared she’d cast up her last meal. Stars danced behind her eyes and she blinked them back.
Daniel stole a sideways look at her. “Chasing treasures?”
She nodded unevenly; the pain too great to speak through. Of course, Daniel would know that.
“Did you find it?”
Daphne thought to the rusty coin in the front pocket of her dress. “Yes.” She braced for his teasing, but he said nothing.
They reached Mirabel and after untethering his mount, Daniel swung astride. He held a hand down for her and Daphne reached up… Her leg crumpled under her.
She cried out and his mare danced nervously. Breathing heavily through the pain, she glanced at the ground. “J-just go ahead. G-get my papa.”
Indecision raged in his brown eyes and he glanced about again. A moment later, he dismounted and retied Mirabel’s reins to the juniper. He bent and carefully scooped her into his arms.
Daphne swung her gaze up to his. “Wh-what are you doing?”
Daniel flexed his jaw, appearing more like his always serious brother, than the boy of twelve who’d long-lived to tease her. “I am bringing you home.”
Her heart tripped a beat. It was at least a mile to her family’s property. The grounds were muddied. The hills were high. “Y-you cannot.”
Anger filled his eyes. “Because I’m not Alistair?”
The village might adore Alistair for being so perfect, but when their families joined for dinner parties and picnics, he didn’t do anything fun like tease her, or even talk to her. And she’d never, ever seen him fish at her copse. How could she truly trust a man who didn’t swim or fish? “I am too big, Daniel,” she said practically. After all, she was ten now and was everything logical. Except for the part about disobeying her parents and rushing about the estates.
Daniel firmed his mouth and then started forward. With every jarring step, she swallowed down nausea. “Does it hurt?” His breath emerged raspy from his efforts.
Daphne nodded against his chest, burrowing close. She buried her face into him, not wanting to see his mocking eyes.
“It will be all right.”
Startled, she swung her gaze up. His gaze was trained forward and sweat beaded his forehead. He shifted her in his arms, stumbled, and then quickly righted them. “D-do you really believe so?”
He hesitated. Even through the pain she saw it. But then, he nodded. And she knew he lied. Another sheen of tears blurred her vision as her mind ran amok with fear. “D-do you think I’ll ever ride again?”
“Of course.” Uncertainty filled those two words.
“No, I won’t,” she cried, her voice shaking. “I’ll never swim again. Or curtsy. Or dance.” What was she without her legs? A sob tore from her.
“You don’t like to curtsy or dance,” he said, wrinkling his brow.
“Yes, but mayhap someday I’ll want to. What if I do want to marry and can’t because I can’t curtsy or dance?”
He grunted. “Well, I don’t want a wife who can curtsy or dance. I would much rather have one who rides and swims.”
Her heart caught, soared, and then promptly slipped to her broken leg. She would never ride or swim. Even as she didn’t wish to marry, if she did, it would be to a boy who wanted her to fish and swim.
Her shoulders shook from the force of her tears and Daniel hugged her closer. He didn’t promise any more that it would be all right, but just let her cry, without making fun of her. That was when Daphne knew—she would love him until the day she died.
A long while later, they neared her family’s property. Daniel faltered and, gasping, shifted her in his arms.
“You can put me down, Daniel.”
“I am not putting you down,” he said angrily. With steely determination in his eyes, he resumed walking. Not another word was spoken between them until her cottage home came into view. In the distance, she spied Papa climbing astride his mount. His gaze caught on them and then his cry went up.
Daphne quickly looked to Daniel. “Thank you.” She reached between them and withdrew her single guinea. “I found my treasure today,” she whispered. “I want you to have it.”
He rounded his eyes. “You are giving it to me?”
She nodded and stuffed it in his pocket. “It is yours now.”
Daniel hesitated. “You’re certain?”
“I want you to have it.”
“I can’t—”
The excruciating agony of her twisted limb sent tears to her eyes. “You have to take it.”
Daniel gave a reluctant nod and shifted her in his arms. �
��If you ever require your treasure back, Daphne, I will return it.”
Through the pain, she gave him an arched look. “A person honors their word and I told you it is yours.”
Her father galloped into the clearing and interrupted the moment. “Daphne,” he cried. Dismounting, he raced forward and wordlessly plucked her from Daniel’s arms. “Thank you so much, Daniel. I cannot ever repay you,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion.
The young boy squared his shoulders and nodded.
She bit the inside of her cheek at the agony the abrupt movement had on her foot and leg. Papa rushed to his mount and handed Daphne over to Daniel, once more. Daniel held her close. “It is going to be all right, Daph,” he vowed and then helped her astride Papa’s mount.
As her father guided her home, she peered back at Daniel. Now, with him gone, there was no distraction from the pain. Coldness stole through her and blackness plucked at the edge of her conscious.
She blinked and tried to retain the light, fixing on him in that same spot, staring after her. Daniel erroneously believed her gift had been the treasure she’d found at the end of the rainbow. What he’d failed to realize was the truth—he had been the true treasure she’d found.
Just as he would be for the rest of her life, when they fished and swam and rode reckless around the countryside, together forever.
And even through the pain, Daphne managed a smile.
Chapter 1
April, 1819
Spelthorne
Surrey, England
Miss Daphne Smith wanted to sit. Desperately. From the corner of her eye, she covetously eyed the seat in front of the immaculate rose-inlaid desk.
Mrs. Belden, the headmistress at Mrs. Belden’s Finishing School, transferred her gaze from the sheet in her hands and peered down the length of her nose. “In three months, nothing has changed, Miss Smith.” In a dismissive manner that sent panic spiraling in Daphne’s breast, the woman set aside the list of references and slid them across the desk.
With the assistance of her cane, Daphne limped forward. “My references are honorable ones,” she said resolutely. “I ask you to please reconsider.” Again. She despised the faint shake that hinted at her desperation. Then, when you were a crippled spinster of eight and twenty years, without a living relation to depend on, and even less funds to survive through the years, that is really what one became—desperate. How she despised a world where there were so few options for women.
The headmistress took in the drag of her left leg and her frown deepened. Yes, for in a world where Society valued utmost perfection, particularly of the physical sort, Daphne would never, ever be anything but broken. The tap of her cane served as an ever-present damnable reminder. Her skirts, at least, hid the mangled, ugly truth everyone knew. “Miss Smith,” the woman began, carefully removing her spectacles. She folded the pair and rested them on her desk. “How many times have you come to speak with me?”
“Five.” That was if one did not include the time she’d approached the headmistress in the village for an “accidental” meeting.
“Six,” the greying woman corrected. “One of those times I was in the village on a matter of business.”
Daphne curled her hand over the head of her cane. Yes, well, a woman who was tasked with the care and deportment of the most revered ladies in the land would have a head for such precise details. How had she been reduced to hoping for employment in this stifling place? Shoving aside that useless self-pitying, she attended the headmistress.
“Since that time, what experience have you had in working with the nobility?”
She flattened her lips as a damning silence stretched on.
“And why has no one hired you?” Mrs. Belden continued, relentless. The woman could have taught Genghis Khan a lesson on ruthlessness.
However, when one was ridiculed and mocked through life for being a cripple, the harsh words of an old headmistress, though frustrating, otherwise rolled off a long-stiffened spine. “There are concerns as to my ability to move freely with children,” she said evenly. But not all people were of Mrs. Belden’s ill-opinion. Some had confidence in the capabilities of women with disabilities.
The much-read page inside the clever pocket sewn in her dress burned hot. It was that scrap that had brought her before this miserable woman.
“Tell me, Miss Smith,” the woman asked while folding her hands. She leaned over those gnarled interlocked digits. “If you were to serve a lady eager to be rid of a chaperone or companion, how would you expect to keep up, hmm?” In truth, Daphne’s interests in employment moved far beyond those flawless ladies Mrs. Belden now spoke of. Rather, it extended to women, flawed and imperfect, striving to make their place in this world, the same way she now did.
The muscles of her lower leg tightened. With the aid of her cane, she shifted her weight. “I expect if they are your esteemed students, Mrs. Belden, then there would be no worries of those young ladies daring to defy propriety and decorum,” she delivered evenly.
Mrs. Belden froze. “Are you being insolent, Miss Smith?” she sputtered.
Oh, blast and blazes. The last way she’d secure employment was by insulting the headmistress. “Not at all, Mrs. Belden.” Daphne spoke in the smooth, modulated tones her mother had once believed her incapable of. Once again, desperation allowed a woman to draw on otherwise absent skills. “You have a revered reputation and work with noble students. As such, I do not doubt their unfailing devotion to the lessons learned here.” Dull, miserable lessons on how to sit, stand, and how not to speak.
Then, it said something to the state of her own sorry existence that she’d so crave a post at a school where young ladies’ souls went to die. Alas, experience with young ladies being required for future employment and the families in the area unwilling to hire a woman with a disfigurement, Daphne would trade her soul for proper references. References that would ultimately mark her as qualified for the work she truly wished.
The headmistress pursed her lips, bringing Daphne back to the moment. “Miss Smith, I am not cruel. I do appreciate the impossibility of going through life as a cripple.”
Fury stirred and Daphne bit the inside of her cheek hard. Do not say anything. Do not say anything. Not everyone felt that way. Most did. But there was one woman who believed the contrary…
“However, the young women I hire are of respectable origins.”
As the daughter of a late, impoverished member of the gentry, Daphne had been born into respectability. But respectability was not nobility. And when there were no funds involved, her value was even less to the world. “My origins are respectable,” she interjected when the woman took a moment to breathe in her perfunctory enumeration. “My father was a member of the gentry.” Sadness stuck in her chest at the never-distant thought of her late papa.
“An impoverished one,” Mrs. Belden added, drumming her fingertips on the surface of her desk in a grating rhythm.
“But respected nonetheless.” The challenging words slipped out before she could call them back.
The older woman winged a frosty eyebrow upward. “But not respected enough for another respected family in the county to offer you employment.”
Despite the agony eating away at her leg from standing motionless for so long, Daphne remained still. She’d rather be slayed where she stood than allow the headmistress to know the mark she’d landed.
In a surprisingly magnanimous show, Mrs. Belden released a long sigh. “This audience you’ve been granted is far more than I would allow most women, Miss Smith.” How very fortunate for her. Daphne tamped down the bitter smile. “It is due to your birthright and circumstances that I have been as patient as I have.”
“Thank—”
“However, I will insist, once more,” she thumped her fist once on the desk. “Unless there is a remarkable change in your employment history, one that includes direct employment in a noble household and glowing references, there is no place for you here as an instructor.”
<
br /> A humbling entreaty hung on her lips and then died there. Even with the panicky fear that kept Daphne awake well into the early morning hours, she would never do something so pathetic as to beg.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” Mrs. Belden called out, looking past Daphne’s shoulder.
The creak of the opening door filled the room. How singularly odd that such a flawless establishment should have hinges that needed oiling. “Mrs. Belden, Lady Alice…” At that familiar name, Daphne whipped her head around. The young woman’s gaze slid to her. “The young lady’s belongings are nearly packed, however,” again, she looked to Daphne. “His Lordship has yet to arrive.” The young woman’s voice contained the smooth, emotionless tones demonstrated by all the ladies fortunate enough to find employment.
The headmistress nodded. “That will be all, Mrs. Ludecke,” she said brusquely.
A moment later, the door closed, once more creaking on its hinges. Mrs. Belden wasted no time in launching into her diatribe. “Please let me make myself clear, Miss Smith, lest you waste your time.” Again. “Unless you have clients of noble birth and references speaking to your diligent effort on those ladies’ behalf, there is no place for you in this school. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Mrs. Belden said, impatience in that polite, empty request. “I have a matter to attend to.” Then in a dismissive gesture, the woman picked up her spectacles, perched them on her nose, and returned her attention to the notes in front of her.
The headmistress’ students. Those cherished young ladies with their still-living mamas and papas, and laughter. They had no worries over what happened when a woman officially ran through her meager funds left. And worse, the distant male relative who’d brought her displacement.
A lump formed in her throat. A hungering for her own loving parents. The only people who’d seen beyond her disfigurement.
“Miss Smith,” Mrs. Belden snapped, jerking her into motion.
A Heart of a Duke Regency Collection : Volume 2--A Regency Bundle Page 75
