They’d walked about the park with Scamp that morning, as they had each of the past few mornings. Afternoon had come, and James found himself looking for her again. The Falstone House staff was every bit as loyal as His Grace had insisted during their weapons-punctuated interview. Not a soul would tell James outright where Daphne was to be found.
A perusal of the family and public rooms yielded no success. He didn’t dare attempt to infiltrate the kitchen. No doubt the cook had instructions to toss him in her soup pot if she felt so inclined. He walked along the back of the house, hoping to spy Daphne taking a turn around the back gardens.
He heard movement just inside a door on the east end of the house. Perhaps whoever was inside would be willing to point him in Daphne’s direction. He knew before even stepping inside that he’d found the herb room. The aromas wafting out were as strong as they were varied.
He stepped inside and nearly laughed at what he found. All his searching, and there Daphne was tying up bundles of some plant or another.
“You seem very hard at work.” He realized the moment the words left his mouth just how inelegant a greeting it was.
She didn’t seem to mind but simply kept at her efforts. “I was meant to spend the afternoon with my brother-in-law, but he is occupied with matters relating to the impending arrival of the newest member of the Boyce family.”
Boyce was the duke’s surname, though few people thought of him by anything other than his very intimidating title.
“So you have chosen this undertaking to fill your afternoon instead?” James stepped farther inside. “Does Falstone House not have enough staff for this?”
“I enjoy working with the herbs,” she said. “I think Adam knows he would have to sleep with one eye open if he ever took this task away from me.”
James smiled a bit at the absurdity of that threat. Daphne was a gentle soul; he knew that without a doubt. “You not only know how to use and grow the herbs but how to preserve them as well?”
She tied off the twine wrapped securely around a bundle of bright-green herbs and snipped the end. “The more I know about the plants I use, the better able I am to use them most efficaciously.”
“Can I assist you at all? I haven’t your knowledge, but I am very good at following directions.” He winced, knowing his recent history reflected unflatteringly on his tendency to do what he was told. Daphne didn’t seem to take his remark badly.
“How are you at hanging things on high hooks?” She glanced up at the myriad hooks adorning the ceiling. “I always have to use a step stool.”
James smiled. “I received very high marks in herb hanging at Harrow.”
“Top of your class, were you?” He heard a smile in her words, though one had not appeared on her face.
“No one could compete with me,” he said. “Fortunately for you, my skills are entirely at your disposal just now.”
She held her bundle out to him. “The hook just behind you, near the other bundles like this.”
He pointed to the one he thought she meant.
Daphne nodded.
“What plant is this?” he asked as he hung it on its hook.
“Marjoram.”
“And what is it used for?” By the time he turned back from his task, she had already begun tying another bundle.
“It is a soothing herb, used to treat pain and anxiety and internal discomfort.” She spoke as she selected green-leafed herbs from a basket.
James stepped up to the table where she worked. “That plant appears to be a different one.”
She discarded a stem she apparently found lacking. “This is sage.”
He could see Daphne had a great deal of experience with preparing herbs for drying. She worked without the slightest hesitation, creating perfect bundles with no visible effort.
“What is sage used for?” he asked both out of a desire to keep her talking and an unexpected curiosity.
She looked up from her neat pile of leaves. “Don’t you know anything, Lord Tilburn?” Her shock was too theatrical to be real. “Sage”—she held a sprig of sage up, pointing it directly at him—“is used to ward off evil spirits.”
He smiled at that. “I’m very pleased to know that. I have had the most unimaginably bad luck with evil spirits of late.”
A smile touched her eyes. With a little more teasing, might her dimple make an appearance as well?
“The throat tonics I recommended for your mother had sage as one of their primary ingredients.”
“Ah.” James watched her wind her bundle with twine. “Am I to hang that one alongside the marjoram?”
She shook her head. “I mean to give sage its own little corner. The other herbs are afraid of it, you see.”
James nodded soberly. “Very sage of you.”
She groaned. “Horrible, Lord Tilburn. Horrible.”
He hung his head. “My lowest marks were in puns.”
Daphne began another bundle of sage. If the size of her basket was any indication, she’d be working with the herbs for some time. James looked around the room as she worked.
“There must be a dozen varieties in here.”
“Twelve, exactly.” She looked up from her work, a light in her eyes James hadn’t seen since their falling out. “There are twice that many to prepare at the castle. I am hoping Adam will allow us to return earlier than expected so I won’t run out of time before the cold comes.”
“You enjoy this.”
Daphne nodded, an actual smile beginning on her face. James enjoyed seeing it.
“Do you have a favorite of those twenty-four?”
“Catmint,” she said. “It is used to treat infectious fevers.”
“Why is it your favorite?”
“It is so useful, an essential part of any herbalist’s collection. Yet few people have any idea what it is.” Here was the animation James had missed seeing in her. “And being in the mint family, it has such a wonderful fragrance if a person gets close enough to experience it. When it flowers, the blooms are so quietly beautiful, simple, and elegant.”
“Will you tell me about the others?”
She looked surprised at the request. “What? All of them?”
James nodded. He truly wished to hear more. She was happier talking about herbs than she’d been since his arrival at Falstone House.
“Let us start with—” He looked around a moment before settling on a prickly looking bundle hanging on the opposite side of the room. He held a hand out to her. Daphne’s attention was fixed on the various hanging herbs, her brows knit in thought. She accepted his hand, though he doubted she realized what she’d done. He led her to the herb he meant to start with. “This one.”
She kept her hand in his. “Rosemary. Very efficacious in treating headaches. And this”—she indicated another bundle nearby—“is soapwort. Excellent for treating boils.” She reached with her free hand for a jar nearby, filled with a collection of something horn shaped. “Comfrey root,” she said. “It is also called knit-bone. It’s used to treat injuries.”
He walked about the herb room with her, listening to her vast store of knowledge. She knew the herbs and oils and dried roots on sight. She could list their uses and, he fully suspected, knew precisely how to prepare any tisane or poultice called for.
“You amaze me.” He meant every word. “Is there anything you don’t know?”
A very becoming touch of color pinked her cheeks. Next to a fleeting glimpse of her dimple, he enjoyed seeing her color above almost anything. Not that he wanted to embarrass her. It was simply such a sincere reaction. Too many people of his acquaintance weren’t genuine. He had liked that about her from the beginning.
“What else can I do for you?” He truly wished to be of service in whatever way he could. Her happiness and well-being had become essential to his own.
“
You needn’t actually stay if you’ve other things to attend to,” she said, settling herself at the worktable once more. “I’ll only be tying up herbs.”
James took his previous position as well. He missed the feel of her hand in his and wondered if she’d even noticed the gesture. “I have a hanging talent I need to put to use.”
She smiled at him then, a small one but a smile just the same. James would hang herbs with her all day for a fleeting glimpse of that dimple of hers.
It was a shame, really, that the ton couldn’t see her in that moment. She was so capable, so confident. Her passion for these herbs and the obvious years of study she’d invested lit her up in a way no one ever saw. No gentleman seeing the sparkle in her eyes as she worked could resist falling at least a little in love with her. It was little wonder he was finding himself in precisely that position.
He loved Daphne a little more every time he was with her. And he knew with utter certainty that he wouldn’t be the only one to fall under her spell. She was slowly but surely shedding the paralyzing timidity that had kept her hidden from Society’s view. She would likely always be quiet and subdued, but she wouldn’t go unnoticed.
Gentlemen would begin courting and wooing her, and one of them would succeed in earning her love in return. That someone, however, would not likely be him. For he was Apollo, the one man she could never trust again.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Daphne could not make heads nor tails of James Tilburn. He had become surprisingly attentive. They had regained something of their previous affinity, but questions lurked in her mind.
Why had he suddenly renewed his interest? What were his intentions? Did his tender treatment of her indicate deeper feelings, or did he merely feel sorry for her or guilty about his previous behavior?
“I confess I had no idea Africa had been so intricately divided,” James said, holding up a particularly odd-shaped puzzle piece.
“The continent rather begged to be made into a jigsaw puzzle, did it not?” Daphne stringently kept to the most neutral of topics. She enjoyed conversations with him but felt far too vulnerable to delve into anything of a personal nature.
“We had a puzzle very like this as children.” James tried to fit his piece in, but it wouldn’t go. “It was of Europe, however, and not nearly so difficult. Your geography lessons must have been brutal.”
She couldn’t hold back a smile at his exaggerated tone. “Artemis was the only one of us subjected to this puzzle during her lessons. Linus brought it home with him during a visit.”
A brief moment passed as they continued unhurriedly working at the complicated pieces. Persephone sat nearer the sitting room windows, applying herself to a bit of embroidery. Artemis had taken full possession of the room’s fainting sofa in order to practice death scenes, having declared her previous efforts “sadly lacking in elegance.”
“Has your brother decided whether he means to leave the navy or continue on?”
The inquiry was a natural one but pricked her heart just the same. “He announced this morning that he had made his choice.”
James’s eyes immediately flew to hers. The briefest of seconds passed. “Oh, Daphne.” Those two words were saturated in compassionate understanding. “How soon does he return to his ship?”
Without a single word of explanation from her, he knew what had happened and precisely how she felt. No other person she’d known had ever been able to do that. His kindness coupled with her own shaky emotions nearly undid her. “He will be here less than one more week.” The words did not emerge entirely steady. “The Triumphant is due to sail in six days.”
“This must have come as a blow.”
She nodded. “Part of me clung to the hope that he would choose to resign his post, but he is a man of conviction, and we are, after all, a country at war. By all accounts, that war will spread to two fronts in the weeks ahead, the situation with the former colonies being what it is. I think I suspected all along he would return to fight.”
James turned the puzzle piece about in his hand, but his eyes never left her face. “If his principles dictate he return, then certainly he must. But I know how much you worry about him.”
Those were precisely her feelings. “I cannot fault him for his decision, but I am—”
“Concerned.” He smiled kindly. “I have ever admired your compassionate nature. In my experience, that is a far too rare quality.”
Heat stained her cheeks. Admired was a decidedly pleasant word coming from him—perhaps not the exact word she wished most to hear but encouraging, just the same. She felt rather like a fledgling chick inching closer to the edge of the nest, uncertain of what came next but not yet ready to brave the possibilities.
“My tendency to fret over people is nothing worthy of such praise.”
His brow furrowed. “Do you really think the compliment insincere?”
“Not insincere, merely . . . exaggerated.” She judiciously applied herself to the puzzle, finding this new topic as disquieting as their previous. Why could they not go back to discussing the continents or the weather? Her footing was much surer in those arenas.
James apparently did not intend to let the matter rest. “And if I were to tell you that in addition to your kind heart, you have a remarkable wit?”
She shook her head, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on the puzzle in which she had long since lost interest. “I am no comedienne, sir.”
“I suppose you also discount your admirable intelligence.”
“As my company is very seldom required by anyone, I have always had ample time for reading. It is not intelligence so much as years’ worth of lonely hours in need of filling with something. Anything.” She shrugged a little. “What good have my stores of trivial knowledge truly done me, after all?”
He offered no rebuttal, no further inquiries after her nonexistent charms. When the silence grew overly long, she hazarded a glance at him, half expecting a look of dismissal or an eagerness to be about his business. But his gaze appeared riveted on her face.
“Good gracious, you actually believe that.” He sounded entirely shocked.
The blush she’d felt begin moments before intensified. “I know what I am,” she said quietly. “And I have long since accepted the truth.”
James stood abruptly. “Miss Lancaster. Would you be so good as to take a short excursion with me?”
She didn’t immediately comply, trying to ascertain his intentions.
“Please?” he added, his voice quiet but firm.
Reminding herself that she had decided to be brave, she rose. He did not offer his arm as she had expected him to but instead took hold of her hand, entwining their fingers, then led her directly to the drawing room doors and out into the corridor. She had not at all sorted out his reasons for their sudden ‘excursion’ but was too lost in the wonderful feel of her hand in his to think overly much about it—until they reached their destination: the large gilded mirror hanging near the entryway.
James released her hand and turned her to face the looking glass hanging at a level just right for viewing nearly all of oneself. He stood directly behind her, ever so slightly to the left. Their eyes met in the mirror.
“Tell me what you see,” he said.
An odd request, to be sure. “You and I and the corridor.”
“No. I mean, when you look at yourself, tell me what you see.”
She dropped her gaze to the floor, mortification sweeping over her. How could he ask such a thing?
No sooner had her head lowered than she felt his fingers lightly press her chin upward once more.
“Tell me what you see.” He made the request once more, speaking with greater emphasis.
She stood very still. What did she see? A person should never be made to admit such a thing. “I am not very tall,” she answered tentatively, picking her most innocuous feature. �
�I know I am a bit plain, but that is preferable to being homely, I suppose.” Tears stung the backs of her eyes. She blinked several times to keep them at bay. She took a wavering breath but pressed on. “I do like to read, so I would consider myself well informed. I did not particularly take this Season, but I am welcomed by all the ton’s matrons, which is something of an accomplishment, I suppose.”
James watched her, his expression unreadable.
She diverted her gaze and lowered her voice to a level just hovering above a whisper. “That was likely not what you meant. One cannot ‘see’ those things.”
James laid his hands on her upper arms, moving close enough that she heard his very quiet words. “Would you like to know what I see?”
Would she? Surely he would not make the offer if his impressions were unflattering. Calling once more on her determination to be courageous, Daphne nodded, though she could not bring herself to look at him.
“You have the thickest hair I think I have ever seen on a lady and of such a pure shade of brown. I am certain that many of the ladies in Society are secretly quite envious of it. Likewise, not a soul who is privileged enough to see it could fail to notice your lovely smile, though I truly hope I am the only one who finds that one lone dimple so distractingly fascinating.”
Daphne looked up at the mirror. He stood very close, his eyes fixed on her reflection.
“But it is your eyes, Daphne, that draw one in. They glow with unmistakable intelligence, especially when you speak of your herbs, and you have the remarkable ability to see the world for what it truly is, even if you do not see yourself quite so clearly.”
He moved closer still, his breath rustling her hair as he spoke. Never in the course of their acquaintance had he stood so near. She dared not look up at him lest he see more in her eyes than she was yet ready for him to know. That she still loved him, she could no longer deny. Trusting him, however, was coming by inches, and slowly at that. A part of her knew that were he to stand so breathtakingly close to her on a regular basis, she would forgive him almost anything.
Romancing Daphne Page 27
