Romancing Daphne

by Sarah M. Eden

  “Must you always be underfoot, Daphne?” Persephone had more than once asked in tones of exasperation.

  Athena had now and then rejected Daphne’s attempts to offer help, insisting she was too little or simply making more trouble. In the years before he and Evander had left for the navy, Linus had often simply overlooked her.

  Even as a very young child, she’d known her family hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, and most of their interactions were kind and loving, but those moments when she had felt so expendable resurfaced in her memory during times of doubt and worry. Though she had learned to guard herself against the possibility of dismissals by fading into the background, by being quiet and unobtrusive, she’d been trying a different approach of late, one she wanted to believe was better even if it was more of a gamble.

  Being overlooked when one was hiding did not hurt nearly so much as being abandoned when one was asking to be loved.

  “Do not fear, Little Sparrow,” James’s voice echoed across six years of hopeful recollections. Do not fear.

  She took a fortifying breath. James had never been unkind nor outright dismissive. Surely he would not be now. But, then again, at times her own family did not always wish her nearby. Even her father, who had eventually come to shun her entirely, had not turned her away in her earliest years. Past kindness was not always a guarantee against future rejection.

  His tiny mutt of a puppy, its coat a muddled mixture of browns and yellows, ran in between his feet, yelping excitedly. He didn’t kick at it nor speak harshly but simply took pains not to step on its tiny paws as he continued his slow circuit of the park.

  Daphne felt a smile spread across her face. This was her James Tilburn, with his puppies and his sparrows and his inherent compassion. She squared her shoulders as a small but appreciated surge of confidence took root in her. This was a gentleman worth the risk.

  He saw her a moment before she reached him. “Good morning, Miss Lancaster.” His surprise at her presence registered on his face, but she did not think he looked unhappy.

  “Good morning.” Confidence, she reminded herself. “It seems you have a little admirer.” She indicated the puppy scampering about.

  James gently nudged the animal with his boot. “He is certainly attached to me. I’ve not gone anywhere these past two days without him tagging along. He is actually my mother’s, but his exuberance has frayed her nerves, and he has, out of necessity, come to live with me.”

  “And you are exercising him this morning?”

  “I believe he is exercising me.”

  “I do not wish to interrupt your efforts, especially if you are trying to undertake training. That is no simple thing.”

  James smiled at her, and Daphne felt the tension in her begin to drain. “The interruption is a welcome one. Was there something in particular you needed?”

  He would not be pleased to learn she had disrupted his morning for nothing more significant than a friendly conversation. “No. I merely wished to bid you good morning.”

  “Oh.” James appeared genuinely surprised.

  “Forgive me. I should have let you be.” She stepped back. “Forgive me.” Daphne turned quickly, escape her only thought.

  “Wait, please.”

  She felt him lightly touch her arm and stopped at the tingle his fingers caused.

  “Your maid is here to lend propriety, and the park is a very public location. There would be no impropriety in our walking together,” he said. “Please, Daphne. Stay and walk with me a moment.”

  He had called her Daphne. She could not even breathe. She had imagined hearing “Little Sparrow” again but somehow had not realized the impact of hearing her actual name on his lips.

  “I do not wish to make a nuisance of myself.”

  “You have not, and I doubt you ever could.” He released his hold on her enough to move to her side and offer his arm. “Take a turn about the garden with me?”

  “I would like that very much.”

  She hoped James didn’t notice her hand trembling as she laid it on his arm. Faced with the prospect of spending time in his exclusive company—no matter that she’d desperately wished to—intimidated her. She wanted him to like her enough to begin to love her. She wanted it so deeply she must have absolutely radiated desperation.

  “I hope you do not mind an addition to our party.” James motioned to his side, where his faithful puppy trotted along looking quite pleased with itself.

  “Not if you do not mind mine.” She indicated Fanny, following at a close distance.

  James dipped his head to the maid. “I remember Fanny well. She was with us the day His Grace sent out the cavalry to herd us through Hyde Park.”

  Fanny grinned.

  James turned back to Daphne. “What brings you to this humble green? Falstone House is a good distance from this less-exalted part of town.”

  “Adam procured a key to the park some years ago, after I discovered that a very rare subspecies of thyme grows here, a variety that cannot even be found at the Chelsea Physic Garden.” He had done so as a birthday present to her the year she’d turned thirteen. “I come here now and then to procure new cuttings of it.”

  “I am beginning to suspect your talent as an apothecary is greater than you’ve let on,” James said. “Distinguishing between varieties of thyme is not something most people can claim to do. I, for one, am quite impressed.”

  “I did learn a vast deal about various herbs growing up. We had not the means to secure the services of an apothecary, and home remedies were often our only option.”

  “And you were given the role of healer? That seems rather weighty for a young child.”

  She had spoken to very few people of those early years of poverty. James, however, was an intent and kind listener. She appreciated that. “I was grateful to be of use,” she said. “Being so young, I could do so little.”

  “The tonics you have provided my mother have done wonders. I know I mentioned it before but feel I must again,” James said. “Though you seem determined to be humble about it, I am certain you worked very hard to learn as much as you have.”

  Daphne nodded, pleased at the praise. “I enjoy it enough that it never has felt like work.” She smiled at the memory of her eager childhood self. “I used to save every coin I came across so I could buy herbs. My fondest dream at the time was to one day have myrrh.”

  “Why myrrh?”

  “Myrrh has astounding healing properties, but it comes very dear. I never had the means of purchasing any.”

  They walked a moment in silence before he spoke again. “I suspect there is a great deal I do not know about you.”

  “We have not had much opportunity to know each other.” She looked quickly up at him, hoping to gauge whether he’d taken her comment as overly forward.

  “I shall have to badger you for information, then.” He creased his forehead as if in thought. “Do you throw out spots when you eat berries or have heart palpitations when reading gothic novels?”

  Daphne smiled. “No to the first question.”

  “And the second?”

  “I have not ever read any of the offerings of the Minerva press, so I could not say how my heart would react.”

  James nodded with exaggerated thoughtfulness. The puppy ran off ahead only to return again, yelping as enthusiastically as ever. “I am very nearly certain you are not afraid of dogs.”

  Daphne laughed, something that pulled James’s eyes to her at once. A smile spread slowly across his face. “Did you think this ferocious beast of yours would frighten me when I have lived the past six years in a forest inhabited by wolves?”

  “Wolves?” A disbelieving chuckle colored James’s tone. “There are no wolves in England.”

  “Oh, but there are.” Artemis would have been proud of the theatricality of Daphne’s response.

&nbs
p; James looked doubtful but amused.

  “To be completely accurate, the pack in Falstone Forest is descended from both wolves and feral dogs. But they look like wolves, they sound like wolves, and they hunt like wolves, so we think of them that way.”

  James made a noise of pondering. “It seems very fitting, does it not, that the Dangerous Duke should have a pack of wolves when no one else does?”

  “Extremely fitting.”

  James’s puppy ran several quick circles around her, its tail wagging happily. Daphne enjoyed watching it play, unaccountably pleased that the tiny animal liked her enough to include her in its excitement.

  She was struck by how easy being with James could be. Some uncertainty about his feelings remained, but his company was not a drain on her. She didn’t need to force herself to talk to him. Few people were like that.

  “Now, let us see. What else can I ask you?” He maneuvered them both around a puddle left in the path from the light morning rain. “Other than concocting lifesaving tonics, what did you enjoy as a child?”

  What had she enjoyed? Her childhood had been spent under the heavy weight of loss and poverty. Happier moments were not always easy to recall. “My brother Evander wrote to me while away at sea. I always enjoyed receiving his letters.”

  “Yes.” James rested his hand over hers where it sat on his arm. “You have mentioned him before. I believe you were particularly close to him.”

  “I was.” The subject did not bring with it the usual level of sadness, something she likely owed to James’s comforting empathy. Still, she preferred a change of topic. “We also undertook the occasional picnic.”

  “A favorite pastime from my childhood as well,” he said.

  “Was it?” She liked knowing they had that in common.

  “Ben and I discovered a meadow just far enough distant from the house to feel rather secluded. We would nip a few sweets from the kitchens and wile away a peaceful afternoon there.”

  “Our exploits were similar. Persephone and Athena packed a meal, and we escaped at a run. Those were amongst our happiest times. We seldom had picnics after the boys joined the navy. There was too much work to be done with fewer of us there to accomplish it.”

  “Have you had any at Falstone Castle?” he asked.

  “We haven’t.” Daphne hadn’t ever thought of the possibility. She had arrived at Adam and Persephone’s home with those lighter times pushed far to the back of her memory.

  “Would the duke allow it, do you think?”

  “If Persephone wanted a picnic, he would let nothing prevent it. Schedules, inconveniences, not even the weather.”

  “Not even the weather?” She loved the way he chuckled at her humor.

  “The skies would not dare rain when the Duke of Kielder wished them clear.”

  “And yet you describe him as a gentle and caring husband. To the rest of us, that seems an inarguable contradiction.”

  “He loves her,” Daphne said. “That, I think, makes all the difference. Watching them, I have realized that contrary to popular belief, love is a rather essential ingredient in marriage.”

  “Yes . . . well . . . not everyone is blessed with that.” James grew noticeably uncomfortable. “Some marriages begin on . . . on less than ideal ground.”

  Did he speak of his own parents’ marriage? Daphne had noticed a marked lack of tenderness between Lord and Lady Techney.

  “But not all marriages must begin with love,” Daphne said. “So long as there is affection and mutual kindness. And, of course, trust.”

  “That, no doubt, is what you’ve always wanted in a marriage.”

  Her heart seemed to stop a moment when the significance of the topic sank in. They were discussing marriage. Not their marriage, but it still felt like a step in a more serious direction. “Yes,” she said, knowing her voice had lost a great deal of its volume. “Affection and kindness are needed in any marriage. Trust, I think, is especially important. A marriage cannot last if it is based on dishonesty or deception. I have always thought that essential to any kind of happiness.”

  A moment passed before James spoke quietly into the silence. “So have I.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Trust. James winced as that word echoed in his thoughts. He’d returned again and again to their conversation of that morning. How very telling that Daphne should mention that particular requirement. He too had always considered honesty a vital character trait, and yet he seemed to have lost his grasp on his own integrity of late. Desperate circumstances had driven him to take desperate measures. When Father had first backed James into this, Daphne had been little more than a name. She had in the last few weeks become much more than that. The faceless symbol of his father’s tyranny had transformed into a feeling, caring human being. She had gone from the lifeless “Miss Lancaster” to the intelligent yet timid and softhearted Daphne. And when precisely had he begun thinking of her by her given name?

  He pushed out a tense breath. Too many burdens were piling up, and he’d begun to sag under the weight.

  James stepped inside his mother’s bedchamber. She’d not come down for dinner. She sat in her four-poster bed, propped up by pillows. Her coloring was not good. Her eyes were closed.

  “How is she?” he asked the abigail hovering nearby.

  “She’s in a bad way, my lord. Her throat has been ailing her, and His Lordship came in and upset her more.”

  Father very seldom acknowledged Mother, something which ought to have raised James’s suspicions when Father had insisted his scheme was meant to benefit her. If he’d sought her out, there had to be a reason, and likely not a kindhearted one.

  “May I ask what my father said to her?”

  Mother’s feeble voice answered. “He will not send for a physician, James.”

  He took hold of her hand. Her coloring had worsened just since he’d come inside.

  “She is a touch feverish,” the abigail said. “I’m worried for her.”

  “I truly do not feel well at all,” Mother’s throat sounded raw. “But your father said no one from the staff can be spared. He said not to even try, that he’d given strict instructions.”

  Father would deny her a physician’s care because of the inconvenience? He had to know James would not allow such a thing. Was this meant to be a battle of wills, a chance to show James that he, Father, was the one with the power? Had James not already bowed to enough dictates for the family hierarchy to be painfully clear?

  The abigail dabbed at Mother’s flushed cheeks with a damp cloth. She needed a doctor’s care. But the staff would never defy Lord Techney, even for James.

  Daphne. Her name entered his thoughts like a bolt of lightning. She could help. Better still, he felt certain she would help.

  “I know someone who is expert enough in the apothecary arts to help you feel better and rest until I can talk some sense into Father.” He yet held her hand. “Only, please, Mother, be kind to her.”

  “You mean that Miss Lancaster?” Her pale features clearly registered her disapproval. “How can I when she has ruined—”

  “No, Mother. You must not blame her for what you see as my loss of freedom. That is truly not the way of it. If I can convince her to offer her assistance, will you please show her the gratitude she deserves? Her tisane did make a difference for you.”

  All the fight drained from her in a moment. Her coloring disappeared but for the heat-induced flush in her cheeks. She nodded, though reluctantly.

  James gently slipped her hand under her blanket. “I will be back as soon as I can,” he quietly promised.

  He moved quickly, arriving on horseback at Falstone House at an hour generally considered far too late for social calls. He could only hope Daphne and the duchess had not chosen to attend any functions that night.

  Considering the vast disservice he was doing h
er in continuing his charade, his conscience could not be eased knowing he was about to ask more of her. But what else could be done? Mother was truly ill.

  The door opened. “Are the ladies of the house in?” The request emerged rushed and, even to his own ears, a touch desperate. “I have an urgent matter I need to discuss with Miss Lancaster.”

  No show of surprise touched the butler’s expression. He led James quite properly up the stairs to the small, informal sitting room. Daphne and her sister were both seated within.

  Daphne looked surprised to see him there. And well she might be. Though she’d not changed into her night clothes, her hair had been let down, pulled back by a single ribbon.

  “Forgive me,” he said before he could second-guess his own audacity. “I would not under less urgent circumstances presume to be here at this hour.”

  Her shock changed immediately to concern. “What’s happened? You look nearly done in.”

  “My mother is unwell and, for reasons that do not reflect well on my family, is not able to seek the help of our physician. I hoped you would be willing to see if there is anything you might do to ease her suffering.”

  “Of course.” She spoke as though there were no question of her assisting. She turned to her sister.

  “Take Fanny with you,” Her Grace instructed. “And Willie, so he can bring back word if you need to remain longer than expected.”

  Daphne stood, turning to the butler still standing in the sitting room doorway. “Please have Eliza retrieve my trunk of herbs and give it to Fanny.”

  “Yes, Miss Lancaster.”

  Daphne stepped out of the sitting room and walked alongside him toward the front of the house. “What are her symptoms?”

  “She seems to have developed an infection of the throat.”

  “Has her voice been affected?” The timidity that usually hovered over Daphne’s was not at all evident. She spoke with authority and decisiveness.

  “It has,” James answered. “And she is feverish as well.”

  They reached the front entryway. Word had apparently already spread amongst the staff. A footman stood at the front door with his outercoat already on. Willie, no doubt.