Romancing Daphne

by Sarah M. Eden

  She moved in the direction of James’s voice, spotting him just on the other side of a close cluster of narrow-trunked trees. He was not alone, which made sense when she thought about it—he obviously had been speaking to someone. That someone, it turned out, was his father. Their conversation appeared to be of a very serious nature.

  Neither had noticed her arrival. She stepped back a little, hoping to get away before being caught eavesdropping, however unintentional.

  “I give you full credit, son, for making a good show,” Lord Techney said. “But there is something lacking in your efforts. Others have noticed that you do not seem appropriately eager.”

  “On the contrary,” James said. “I have heard any number of onlookers make quite the opposite observation.”

  It was a decidedly odd conversation. Eager about what? A good show of what?

  “Do not think I will sit idly by while you make halfhearted efforts to fulfill your end of this bargain,” Lord Techney said. “You know well the consequences of refusing to follow through with this.”

  James’s father had done something. Daphne thought back on the past few days, on the time she’d spent with James. He’d never mentioned any looming crisis. He would have told her. They had grown close, confiding in each other, to a degree, at least.

  “I have not withdrawn from our bargain,” James said. “I am fulfilling it. I expect you to do so as well.”

  She should not have kept listening but couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever James and his father were discussing was of utmost importance.

  “Do not assume, Tilburn, that I have not pieced together your counterstrategy. If Miss Lancaster rejects your suit, you intend to argue that you still kept your part of our bargain, that you had undertaken the courtship as agreed but can’t be held accountable for her rejection.”

  Daphne’s lungs tightened to the point of pain. Counterstrategy? One that involved his expectations of a rejected suit? His apparent hope for a rejection. From her.

  She slowly shook her head, attempting to dislodge the unease that saturated her every thought. His attentions had been too pointed to have been anything other than an effort at courting her. All of Society knew his intentions and the happiness with which she had accepted them.

  “The outcome of all this does not rest on my shoulders alone,” he said. “You may have the power to threaten Mother and Ben and even me, but you cannot threaten her. You cannot force her hand as you have forced mine.”

  Forced his hand? No. He could not have meant that.

  “I am not interested in her choices, James. Only in the outcome of yours.” Lord Techney spoke with every bit as much firmness as James had a moment earlier. “This family needs the connection, needs the boost to our status. Your efforts here are meant to secure that. You will not fail me in this.”

  Say he is wrong, Daphne silently begged James. You are courting me because you like me. Tell him. Tell him you are beginning to love me.

  But no correction was forthcoming.

  Daphne’s surroundings lost focus, her eyes refusing to sharpen the painful scene playing out before her. She leaned heavily against the tree, her breaths coming in near-silent gasps. James was being forced to court her.

  She could make out their silhouettes and hear the vague sound of their voices still in quiet conversation, but nothing made sense in her spinning mind. Each breath she took required more effort than the last. Her throat seemed to be closing off as she looked away.

  He was courting her to obtain social status for his family, to fulfill an agreement he’d made with his father. He did not pay her these attentions out of adoration or tenderness or any of the other reasons she, in her foolishness, had imagined. The gentleman she’d silently adored for six years had courted her just as she’d hoped but hadn’t meant a moment of it.

  And that meant he didn’t love her.

  Hot tears stung Daphne’s eyes. She had believed him. She had naively embraced his lies.

  She heard Scamp bark but did not look about for him. If anything, her surroundings had grown more indiscernible. A nauseating weakness overtook her. Daphne had never swooned in the course of her entire life yet felt dangerously close to sinking to the ground.

  Long-past memories she’d forced herself not to think about rushed headlong to the surface. “Such a lovely looking family, the Lancasters. Except for that little Daphne. A little mouse of a thing. Has not a bit of her mother’s beauty. She’ll not amount to much.” “Go, Daphne”—her father’s voice—“I would far rather be alone.”

  The deep, pulsating wounds those comments and dozens like them had inflicted over the years ripped through her anew. She closed her eyes, pressing her hand to her chest the way she’d done since childhood. She’d always managed to push back the pain, ignore the sting of ridicule and rejection until time lessened its impact. But as she stood there alone in the small cluster of trees, the anguish refused to be silenced. For the first time, she could not discount those caustic evaluations. She had only ever warranted the notice of one gentleman, and he had fabricated it all.

  “Daphne?”

  She recognized James’s voice but didn’t open her eyes.

  “What’s happened?” he asked. “Are you unwell?”

  Unwell? A less-apt word had likely never been spoken. Daphne forced herself to look at him, allowing herself the tiniest morsel of hope that she would see in his eyes something to refute the bitter truth she had stumbled upon.

  His expression was precisely the same one she’d seen repeatedly over the weeks: concern, sympathy. A quarter of an hour earlier, that look would have melted her. Now she felt only cold.

  She had wept for days after Evander’s death. She had probably cried when her mother had died, though she’d been too young at the time to remember. Outside of those two moments, she had met the slightest threat of tears with fierce resistance. Standing there so entirely alone, forced to face the horridness of her situation, she did not hold back the rush of emotion.

  “Good heavens, Daphne. You’re crying.”

  She flinched at the soft brush of his fingers along her cheek. His hand stilled immediately.

  “What has happened? Why are—” He laid his hands on her arms. She pulled back. “How long have you been standing here?”

  “Please leave me be,” Daphne whispered.

  “You may have misunderstood something you heard. I—”

  She pushed away from the tree, distancing herself from him. “Just leave me alone.”

  The panic-stricken look on his face told her what would come next. He would attempt to explain it all, to justify a month’s worth of lies. She could not bear it. No one should be made to endure so much deceit.

  Daphne turned and walked swiftly in the direction of the house, though avoiding the gathered guests at the picnic. She did not slow as she crossed back to the house.

  She dropped onto the small bench set near the door, pressing her hand to her wounded heart. She could not stay—not now. Certainly Persephone would agree to leave forthwith. She likely would not even press Daphne for an explanation.

  She only sank further at the thought of facing Adam. How certain she’d been that time would prove his doubts unfounded. How assured she’d felt of James’s regard. But she’d been wrong. So very wrong.

  Her fairy-tale courtship was nothing but a lie.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Daphne appreciated beyond expressing that Persephone allowed her to pass the brief carriage ride back to Falstone House in complete silence. It was a merciful gesture. She knew she would not be permitted to escape the reality of her discovery long. And as the falling out between her and James became known, there would be questions. So many questions.

  They stepped inside just as Artemis came bounding down the stairs. “London is ever so much more fun than Shropshire,” she declared, rounding the corn
er and disappearing toward the back of the house.

  “Is His Grace home, then?” Persephone asked the butler as they were divested of their outer coats in the front entryway.

  “Yes, Your Grace. In his book room.”

  “Excellent.” Persephone turned to Daphne. “I do not wish to abandon you, but—”

  “Please, go greet him,” Daphne said. “I know you’ve missed him.”

  Persephone made her way directly toward the stairs. For the first time since Adam’s departure from London more than a week earlier, Daphne saw a genuine smile on her sister’s face.

  Daphne stood in uncomfortable indecision. Where ought she to go? How desperately she wished for her own room, her own bed to cry on. But Adam would demand a full accounting of her situation. She would rather not make that painful confession with her youngest sister listening in. Delaying the inevitable struck her as decidedly illogical, even if it was understandable from an emotional perspective.

  “You have done quite enough thinking with your heart of late,” she told herself. “It is high time you remembered how to lead with your head.” Daphne nodded to herself, hoping to solidify her determination. She did not allow the slightest slump in her posture as she followed Persephone’s path. She reached the book room door only a moment after her sister did.

  Persephone lightly rapped on the door as she slowly opened it.

  “I told you, Hampton, I did not wish to be disturbed today by anyone regardless of their business with me.” Adam sounded thoroughly annoyed. That would make their coming interview all the more uncomfortable.

  Persephone did not seem particularly put off by his tone. “Oh, but my business with you is of a most crucial nature,” she said from the doorway.

  Adam’s head snapped up and turned in the direction of the door. “Persephone.” He whispered the name almost as though it were a prayer. He abandoned his papers and desk and crossed the room. His intense gaze never left Persephone’s face. “You”—he took her face in his hands—“are never again to remain behind when I leave Town. Ever.”

  Daphne stepped back into the corridor, uncomfortable for the first time with their poignant display of affection. She used to watch them and daydream of receiving the same tender regard. Those moments of wishful imaginings had been easier before James had made her believe those hopes could actually become reality.

  She stood against the wall beside the book room door, taking long breaths and attempting to maintain her fragile calm. Tears served no purpose anymore. The time had come to be rational.

  She could hear Persephone’s voice once more. Adam had apparently concluded his greeting enough for her to speak. “I was not expecting you for several days yet.”

  “You were so busy leaping from one social event to the next, you were not even here when I arrived,” Adam countered. “It does not seem to me that I was at all missed.”

  Daphne inched her way back into the doorway, her heart hurting a tiny bit more at the sight of her sister and brother-in-law quite happily in one another’s arms.

  “Would you like me to get back into the carriage and ride about a bit longer so you can fully appreciate my return?” Persephone’s teasing tone would normally have brought a smile to Daphne’s face. Adam brought out a side of Persephone’s personality that was decidedly lighter than Daphne remembered seeing in all their growing-up years.

  “If you so much as set one foot out of this house, I will have you locked up.” Adam, of course, sounded entirely serious. His expressions of affection were usually grumbled and, to those who did not know him well, often sounded vaguely threatening.

  “You are pleased, then, to have me home?”

  “Infinitely. Though the staff indicated you would not be back for a few more hours. What brought about the early return?”

  Daphne squared her shoulders. She would not force Persephone to make the explanation. She took a single step inside the book room, near enough to be heard but at a distance that hid her red-rimmed eyes. “I asked that we return early.”

  Adam looked away from Persephone, his gaze meeting Daphne’s. “You asked? How strange. I was half convinced I would be required to pry you away from Techney House by sheer force, considering your Lord Tilburn was there.”

  She did not allow herself to so much as twinge at his excessively dry tone. Adam did not know how deeply she’d been hurt. Daphne did not intend to allow anyone to realize how desperately she’d wanted James to love her. The only thing more pathetic than a girl who had never been loved was one who wrongly thought she had been. She refused to spend the remainder of her life an object of pity. “As the purpose of my attending the various functions at Techney House these past weeks was to further explore the possibility of a match between myself and Lord Tilburn, my presence there no longer seemed necessary.”

  Adam stood beside Persephone with his arm comfortably around her waist. The two of them watched her with growing confusion and concern.

  “You no longer welcome Lord Tilburn’s suit?” Persephone asked.

  “It seems we would not suit after all.” She had often heard young ladies give just that explanation when a potential beau did not prove to be “the one.”

  “What utter rot.” Anyone other than Adam would have rolled their eyes when using a tone of voice that so required the gesture. He never stooped to such a thing. “Though I had my misgivings, even a simpleton could see you two suit each other better than most courting couples.” Adam’s look of disbelief spoke volumes against Daphne’s chances of escaping without being forced to provide a drawn-out explanation.

  Still, she attempted to circumvent that unpleasant outcome. “As I said, we would not suit.”

  He shook his head. “That argument won’t do. Try another one.”

  “We really would not suit.”

  Adam sat on the edge of his desk, keeping Persephone’s hand in his. “This seems a rather drastic change.”

  A bit of redirection was more than called for. “I don’t imagine she has told you, but Persephone has been quite ill during your brief absence from London.”

  “You were ill?” Adam was immediately consumed by this newest revelation, just as Daphne had known he would be. He cared about his sisters-in-law, but he treasured his wife. Her well-being would trump that of any other person’s on earth. “How ill? Do I need to summon a physician?”

  “I consulted with one several days ago.”

  That was news to Daphne. Why had she not been included? Her role in the family’s health was long established. Yet she had not been told of this latest development, one serious enough to warrant the services of a physician.

  “Why was I not sent for?” The concern in Adam’s voice took some of the edge from his demanding tone.

  “For the simple reason that my various complaints, while something of a misery, are not the least unusual for a woman who is soon to be a mother and need not cause concern in her husband”—her tone softened—“who is soon to be a father.”

  “A father?” His brow pulled deep, his eyes searching his wife’s face. For once in all the years Daphne had known him, Adam appeared at a loss for words. “It has been seven years. I assumed—”

  Persephone leaned her head against his chest. “So had I.”

  Adam pulled her into an embrace, his expression equal parts awe and affection. “We’re to be parents?” he whispered.

  “You are happy, then?” she asked from within the circle of his arms.

  “Oh, Persephone.” The two words emerged on a shaking, quiet breath.

  Daphne slipped quietly from the room. She had intended only to provide a distraction by bringing up Persephone’s illness. Instead, she had forced upon them a conversation her sister had likely hoped to undertake with more privacy.

  They were to be parents. Though neither had told Daphne as much, she felt certain their hearts had broken over the
past years worrying and wondering and wishing over the possibility of children. She was deeply happy for them both. Fate meant to be kind to at least some of the members of this family, and for that she was truly grateful.

  She walked down the corridor to the drawing room, knowing it would be empty and therefore quiet. She took one step inside and realized she was wrong.

  A young naval officer with golden curls and familiar green eyes stood near the window, smiling at her as she walked in. Her heart flipped about in her chest. Linus had arrived at last.

  “I had hoped Adam wouldn’t entirely monopolize your time,” he said with a grin. “He is only a brother-in-law, after all. My claim on your attention is certainly greater.”

  “Good afternoon, Linus.”

  “Good afternoon, Linus? I have been away at sea for half a year, and all I am to expect is a halfhearted Good afternoon, Linus?” He tsked and shook his head, his trademark smile never slipping. “No doubt you would have had an embrace for Evander.”

  “Evander would not have teased me.” Indeed, Evander would have embraced her.

  “Guilty.” Linus sighed. “Could you not spare me the slightest bit of sisterly affection—I am quite starved for it, I assure you.”

  “If you are in need of overt displays of adoration, I am certain Artemis would oblige you. Such things are far more her forte than mine.”

  Linus crossed closer to her. He had grown since she had last seen him, and not just in height. The navy, it seemed, did not produce scrawny men. She was absolutely dwarfed by him. “You have been crying,” he said, his tone changing quickly to one of concern. “What has happened?”

  “Nothing that an afternoon nap won’t address.” How easily the lie slipped off her tongue. She had no intention of telling all the world the true state of her heart.

  “After all Adam’s grumblings about you being ‘so blasted cheerful’ and having some lordling courting you, I fully expected to see you bouncing about the place, humming and dropping flower petals in your wake,” Linus said.