She fetched a fresh cloth from the pile brought up by the maid. In a clean bowl, she poured some hot water from the teakettle, then added a chip of ice to cool it to pleasantly warm. She added a drop of her lavender oil and dipped the cloth in, then wrung it out. She folded the cloth in a long rectangle and crossed to where James sat.
“Lean forward a bit,” she softly instructed. He looked confused for only a moment before complying.
His cravat had long since come loose, leaving his collar hanging limp.
She set the warm cloth against the back of his neck. The warmth combined with the lavender would relax him.
“Now sit back.” She pulled a light blanket off a chair near the windows and brought it back to James, laying it over him.
“I cannot ask you to care for Mother alone,” he objected.
“I will let you know if I need help. Rest assured, this is nothing I haven’t undertaken before, and I am doing so now willingly.”
He closed his eyes and leaned his head far back. “Thank you, Daphne,” he said. “And I am sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
A beat passed before he answered. “Too many things.”
The poor man was obviously exhausted. “Rest a bit, James. You’ll feel better if you do.”
He must have taken the suggestion to heart; he was asleep within minutes. Lady Techney began to sweat shortly after that, a clear indication that the feverfew and black-elder tea were working as they should. Daphne sat at her side, dabbing Lady Techney’s flushed cheeks.
She passed an hour in just that way before the physician at last arrived. He proved competent and efficient. They discussed symptoms and treatments employed thus far. After a moment of silent surprise at Daphne’s abilities with herbs, the doctor declared himself impressed beyond words. He smelled the dregs left in Lady Techney’s cup and his praise began anew.
“Precisely the aroma I would hope for. The blend, I would say, was expertly concocted.”
She could tell his approval brought color to her face. If only she could find a way to control her blushes.
“Miss Lancaster has been indispensable.” James had, it seemed, awoken. He shifted about and sat up straighter. The cloth she’d set on his neck slipped off as he stood. “How is Lady Techney?” he asked the doctor.
“The tea has begun to break her fever. She will be well given time and rest.”
Daphne stepped back, intending to get out of the way. To her surprise, James moved to her side.
“How are you?” he asked, his eyes taking in every inch of her face.
Again her telltale blush surfaced. “I am holding up. A little tired,” she admitted. “But nothing I cannot endure.”
“You should rest. Everyone else has been permitted to.” He motioned to the corner where the abigail dozed in a hard-backed chair.
Daphne was too tired to argue. “Why don’t I take your chair, and you can sit up with your mother for a time.”
The arrangements were made. James and the physician tended to Lady Techney. Daphne leaned back in the chair, the same warm blanket James had used tucked around her shoulders. She watched them as she sat there. A few times James looked in her direction and smiled.
She didn’t think she had ever been more content. The dreams she’d formulated at twelve years of age were coming closer and closer to reality.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mother was on the mend by that morning, something the family owed entirely to Daphne. In the quiet hours of night while this guardian angel of theirs had silently ministered to a woman she hardly knew, James’s view of Daphne had undergone a material transformation. Though he’d not chosen to court her, he had come to realize that being permitted to do so was a gift he’d not fully valued. She was a wonder, a lady with a heart so deep and so giving as to put to shame every other person James had ever known. And he was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to know her better, to be her particular friend.
He pulled a chair up next to hers, where she sat keeping an eye on his mother’s progress. “How is our patient this morning?”
“You’ll be pleased to know she was alert enough for conversation earlier.”
Oh heavens. “What did she speak about?” He hoped his nervousness didn’t show.
“At first she simply said again and again how surprisingly good she felt.” Daphne smiled the tiniest bit, her eyes heavy with weariness. “And I do not think she was at all prepared to find me at her bedside.”
James didn’t like the sound of that. “I hope she was not unkind to you.”
“She accepted my presence after a time.” Daphne rose and adjusted Mother’s blankets. “Though she was upset that I wouldn’t allow you to be awoken.”
“I would happily have taken over for you.”
“You were finally sleeping deeply. There was no need to disturb you.” Daphne checked Mother’s temperature with the back of her hand. She must have been satisfied; she returned to her seat once more. “Besides, tending the sick is a skill of mine, one I do not often get to use. I suppose that is something for which I should be grateful. Other than my father, I am blessed with a healthy family.”
James nodded. That would be a blessing. “I have never known a time when Mother was not susceptible to illness. Father has no patience for it.”
“You seem to have patience enough for the entire family.”
They sat quietly, neither speaking nor moving. He’d discovered that about Daphne; she was not uncomfortable with silence.
“The physician was impressed to see that you travel with your own herbs and remedies,” he said after another moment.
She pulled her legs up beside her in her chair. “Only those I need most often. I can generally find what I need in London, but these are taken from plants I cultivated myself. I know them better, know precisely how to use them.”
“So you are an herbologist and a gardener?”
“The best apothecary is always both.”
How she’d changed in the past weeks. He’d hardly had a word from her that first visit to Falstone House and only a handful more during their drive. They’d come far enough to speak easily.
“What first interested you in the apothecary arts?”
She didn’t answer immediately. He saw in her face a debate, as though she wasn’t sure she wished to answer his question.
He took her hand in his own, hoping to assure her that he could be trusted. He found, however, that he himself benefited from the connection. She soothed and calmed him every bit as much as her teas and tonics had Mother.
“My mother died when I was too young to have any real memories of her.” She spoke in a quiet voice. “My father closed in on himself over the years since, pushing away everything and everyone. At first he was simply distant and hermit-like. I remember coming into his book room and asking to sit with him, something he allowed with less and less frequency. He would shoo me away or ask that I not disturb him.” She seemed to think a moment. “He grew less reachable with each passing year. By the time I left home to live with Adam and Persephone, Father did not seem to be more than vaguely aware of the world around him.”
What a difficult experience that must have been.
“Once, while his was still a purposeful isolation rather than an ailment of the mind, I asked Persephone what was wrong with him,” Daphne continued. “She told me his heart was broken. In my naivety, I assumed his physical heart was unwell. I knew enough to realize we could never afford to pay a man of medicine to cure him.”
“So you sought out the cure yourself.” He clasped her hand ever tighter, imagining in his thoughts a tiny girl with thick black hair and deep-brown eyes poring over books of medicines and concoctions in a desperate attempt to save her father.
She took a long breath, leaning against the back of her chair as she let the air out. “I f
inally asked the local apothecary where in the old book he’d given me I might find the treatment for a broken heart. He told me, ‘There is no herb on earth can cure that.’ I’d learned how to treat pain and fevers and infections but had to admit to myself that I could do nothing to get my father back.”
“Has he been slipping away all these years?”
She nodded. “He is less aware of the world around him every time I see him.”
James rubbed her hand with both of his. “I am so sorry. I cannot imagine watching a parent slip so slowly away.”
“It is an agony I do not wish on anyone.” Her head rested against his shoulder, though he didn’t think she slept. While he hoped talking with him, sitting there with him, eased some of the pain he’d heard in her retelling, he found it lessened his burden as well. How was it that this remarkable young lady he’d not even known a month earlier could calm his mind by her very presence?
Guilt and relief made for an odd combination. He felt he’d learned enough of Daphne Lancaster to find a great deal of peace in the idea of courting her. She had a good heart. She was intelligent, well-spoken, selfless. Her dimple alone was reason enough to coax a smile from her. He could easily imagine himself being quite happy with her in his life, no matter the unfortunate way in which their courtship began. But knowing he had been, and out of necessity would continue to be, dishonest with her, if only by omission, nagged at him.
Her head grew heavy against his shoulder, her breathing steady and deep. He hoped she was sleeping. She’d spent the entire night tending to Mother. He adjusted his position enough to look down at her. She didn’t even stir as he moved. Lud, she looked tired, even in her sleep.
“We have been unfair to her,” a raspy and raw voice said.
How long had Mother been awake?
“Life has been unfair to her, I am discovering.” He kept his voice low so as not to wake her. “She lost her parents as a child. As a young lady, she endured the rejection of Society simply because she is quiet.”
“And we decided to hate her without even meeting her.” Mother’s pale features showed real remorse. “No one as sweet and kind as she could conspire the way I assumed she had.”
“I fear everyone in the neighborhood will assume something of that nature should she eventually accept my suit. I believe most of London Society suspects something underhanded on someone’s part.” James gently rubbed Daphne’s hand between his. “It is a shame no one is aware of her worth. Not even she seems to recognize it.”
Mother tried for a moment to turn and look at him but, in the end, simply lay back, exhausted.
“Have you decided what you mean to do, James?” she asked. “Have you given up the idea of finding a wife of your own choosing?”
The question was certainly direct. He had spent the night firming his decision, yet it still pained him. “I have decided I must.” He would not tell Mother of Father’s threats and the subsequent agreement he’d made. She had suffered enough at the hands of her unfeeling husband.
A small tear appeared at the corner of Mother’s eye. “You admire her and respect her. I can see that you do. That is a better start than your father and I had. And you are a better man than he.”
He held back the I should certainly hope so that immediately sprang to his mind.
“Commit yourself to making her happy, James, and I think you will find your own happiness as well.” Her eyes closed once, twice, and finally the oblivion of sleep took hold.
James stayed in his chair, holding Daphne’s hand. She slept peacefully in the chair she’d occupied most of the night, her head still resting heavily against his shoulder.
Commit yourself to making her happy. He could do that. He’d learned a great deal about her already and could at least begin to guess at the things that would bring a smile to her face. He’d moved forward on the expectation of a cold rejection of the suit he’d been forced to undertake. In that quiet moment, having been given such a tender glimpse into the person she was, he found that outcome no longer suited him.
For the first time, he could almost imagine himself making a life with the remarkable woman seated beside him. If only a chasm of unspoken truths didn’t stand between them.
Chapter Twenty-Two
James walked at Daphne’s side in silence, carrying her trunk of herbs. She’d spent the late morning taking her breakfast and packing her herbs. He knew he had done a poor job of thanking her for the kindness she’d shown his mother. He was simply so unaccustomed to anyone helping him look after his family that the words refused to come.
Daphne did not seem overly concerned by the pause in conversation. She never did.
“A letter for you, Miss Lancaster.” The butler held out a sealed missive. “A footman just delivered it from Falstone House.”
She took the letter and thanked him. “It is from my brother-in-law,” she said after a quick perusal of the address.
Did the Dangerous Duke object to Daphne’s having spent the night at Techney House despite the presence of a maid for propriety? “How did he manage to get a letter from Shropshire so quickly?”
“Not that brother-in-law.” How was it that her dimpled smile always forced a smile from him regardless of his distress? “This letter is from the harmless one.”
James opted for an overblown show of relief. She might not realize how panicked he’d actually been for a moment. “There is a small sitting room just down this corridor a bit. If you’d like to read your letter there, I can gather what you need should you wish to pen a reply.”
“I am happy to read it while I’m waiting for the carriage and during my ride home. But I thank you for the kind offer.”
He could not say why her small expression of gratitude struck him with such force, but he realized in that moment that Daphne never failed to thank him for even the smallest things he did for her. Even gestures which were, in all honesty, insignificant never passed without an acknowledgment. Perhaps it was one of the reasons helping her never felt like a task he was required to do but rather a natural inclination.
Ben had only just stepped inside when James and Daphne reached the front entryway. “Miss Lancaster,” he said, inclining his head. “Has James not allowed you to escape yet?”
“I am afraid he has kept me locked up in your dungeon all morning. It has been terrible, I assure you.”
“In the dungeon?” Ben tsked and shook his head. “Sounds to me as though he is borrowing a page from your guardian.”
“Adam does have a tendency to bring out the most sinister in people.”
James had the oddest urge to brush his thumb along her cheek precisely where her dimple lay. It was adorable. Utterly adorable.
“I am pleased to have seen you before I left, Mr. Tilburn,” Daphne said. “This letter is for you.” She held out a missive folded smaller than standard and, if James was to hazard a guess, having arrived inside the letter she herself had just received. “From my brother-in-law, Mr. Windover.”
“The one who raises sheep?” Ben asked, taking the letter with undisguised eagerness.
“The very one. He indicated in his letter to me that he hopes to have some sound advice for you.”
“Then you told him about me?”
She looked immediately uncertain. “I hope you are not offended. He has learned a great deal over the past few years and is most willing to share his knowledge with others in situations similar to what his was.”
“Offended?” Ben shook his head. “Not at all. I’m . . . flattered and . . . grateful. Thank you, Miss Lancaster.”
Daphne turned a remarkable shade of red at Ben’s effuse gratitude.
James knew she would far prefer an escape than to be the recipient of more attention. “I do believe we should allow Miss Lancaster to return home to recover from her long night,” James said, giving his brother a pointed look.
; “Of course.” Ben’s smile did not lessen. “Of course.” He walked off in something of a daze, eyes continually dropping to his letter.
James held out his hand to her. She slipped her own in his as naturally as though they had done so many times. He had done nothing to earn her trust and felt infinitely more guilty realizing he had it and did not deserve it.
Seated across from her in the carriage, he took a moment to attempt an adequate expression of appreciation. “I am so touched by what you’ve done for Ben,” he said. “His estate, dilapidated as it is, means the world to him. I have been at a loss as to how I might help him. You, in what I am discovering is simply your way, have hit at the very heart of the matter and addressed it quite perfectly.”
“That is Adam’s influence,” she said. “He taught me long ago how to think through a situation and discover the actual problem, which is often quite different from what one first notices. Your brother, on the surface, seems to simply need funds, but his true problem is more long-term. He needs to know how to run an estate that is falling to pieces and how to build it over time. I happen to know someone who has done exactly that. Introducing the two to each other simply made sense.”
Good heavens, she was a marvel. “But you not only realized the sensible solution; you made it happen too. In my experience, most people don’t take that final step. Most can’t be bothered.”
“I think you have known the wrong sort of people.”
Was it any wonder he’d come to like her so very much? She was intelligent, kind, calming. He reached across the carriage and took her hand in his, raising it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “Has anyone ever told you, Daphne Lancaster, that you are amazing?”
“I can honestly say no one ever has.”
He kept her hand in his, the simple gesture echoing as a flutter in his chest. “It sounds to me as though I am not the only one who has known the wrong sort of people.”
Romancing Daphne Page 17
