“Society is rife with empty-headed misses,” he said. “A gentleman with any sense whatsoever wishes for so much more than that. He wants that rare combination of goodness and intelligence. He counts himself most fortunate if those essential qualities accompany a pretty face. That, my dear,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “is what I see.”
Only when he brushed moisture from her cheek with the pad of his thumb did she realize a tear had escaped her eyes. He tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear.
“Why don’t you see that, Daphne?”
She closed her eyes against the pain of that question. “Because that isn’t me. I am just Daphne, the plain, unnecessary sister. The nymph among the goddesses. The one who is forgotten in a heartbeat.”
“I assure you, that is not true in the least, for I tried valiantly. A great many heartbeats passed after the disastrous picnic, and I found myself entirely unable to forget you.”
Daphne opened her eyes, though she did not look up at him nor at his reflection before her. “You forgot me within moments of our first meeting. Given time, you would easily do so again.”
“Would I have returned after that first tea if I had immediately forgotten you?”
“Of course you would have,” she said, pain piercing her anew. “You were required to return. You were forced to remember me.”
“Things may have begun that way,” he said, “but as I came to know you better, I continued my courtship, not because I was required to but because I wished to. I returned eagerly, willingly.”
“But not honestly.” She was not certain he was being entirely honest with her now.
“I can make no justification for my lack of integrity,” he said, “nor will I try. I might have been cajoled into that first meeting, but I was not coerced into all of them.”
Into all of them. That was not at all comforting; neither was the realization that he had no recollection of a moment that had altered her life. “The call you paid at our at-home all those weeks ago was not our first meeting.” She saw confusion in his eyes. Confession seemed the best course of action. “We first met six years ago,” she told him. “I was hiding on the terrace during my sister’s come-out ball, spying on the festivities through the windows. You caught me there but kept my secret. Your kindness to a terribly timid little girl stayed with me long after that night. But on the few occasions afterward when our paths crossed, the complete lack of recognition in your expression told me as nothing else could that you had utterly forgotten me, just as everyone else does. Just as everyone always does.”
What had possessed her to confess so much to him? Daphne had told no one of her encounter with James Tilburn on the Falstone House terrace. If James did not already think her entirely pathetic, he most certainly would after hearing her history.
It was not pity, however, that she saw enter his eyes. His gaze as it reflected back at her from the mirror appeared very nearly amazed. “Your hair hung in two long braids, and you wore the frilliest nightdress I could possibly have imagined.”
Daphne’s breathing came to a sudden halt. Did he actually remember?
“You were a study in contradictions.” James watched her intently. “You were so tiny, no larger, I thought at the time, than a girl of eight or nine, yet you acted older despite your timidity. You seemed terrified to so much as speak, yet you were defying the Dangerous Duke’s demands in order to snatch a peek at the ball.”
Good heavens, he did remember.
“I never could be entirely sure of your age, which is likely one reason I did not recognize you in the light of day, but I assure you I recall that meeting. I told my brother about you, and I thought of that little girl often over the years.”
“You did?” Her amazement rendered the question almost breathless.
He nodded. “I never learned your name or your exact connection to His Grace. None of the duchess’s sisters appeared to be the right age. I assumed that little girl was a distant cousin and never did inquire further.” The confession brought a crease of worry to his brow. “The only excuse I can make for myself is that I was young and still a little too flighty and preoccupied with my own worries. But I told Ben of a little girl who reminded me of a determined little sparrow who sought her freedom even in the face of oppression.”
Daphne’s breath caught in her lungs. Little Sparrow. How she had longed to hear him say that again.
He shifted beside her. Daphne’s gaze remained glued to him. Was he leaving?
James stepped in front of her and brushed his hand along her cheek. Daphne very nearly held her breath, the touch unexpected and pleasantly unsettling.
“All these years,” James said, still standing near her but no longer touching her face. “I’ve wondered what happened to that little girl. I ought to have realized. You have the same brown eyes. More to the point, you have the same bravery—something both my brother and I envied in that quiet child.”
“I have never been very brave,” Daphne said. Had not Adam told her himself she had acted unforgivably fainthearted?
James took her face in his hands. “You taught me how to be courageous, both then and now.” A curious trembling began in her middle at the feel of his hands on her face. His words somehow penetrated her increasingly fuzzy thoughts. “And you have shown me how to be kind, how to care for my family without being taken advantage of. You have shown me what it means to be good and worthy. Though I most certainly do not deserve your regard, I intend to try to win it.”
“You did not actually want my regard but were forced into pursuing it.” It pained her to bring the topic up once more, but she was so confused. She had no idea what to think or believe.
“As I was reminded recently, Apollo was a thick-witted buffoon.” His hands slipped from her face to her shoulders, though his eyes didn’t leave hers. “His Daphne never did know the sincerity of his regard, but I am determined that my Daphne will.”
Her breath caught, the unexpelled air pulsing in rhythm with her pounding heart. “Your Daphne?”
“The duke would likely chain me up in the attics for being so presumptuous.” He made as if to pull away.
Daphne took hold of the sleeve of his frock coat. “Your Daphne?”
He stepped in close once more, his voice low and intimate. “I mean to do all I can, dearest Daphne, to prove myself worthy of being yours and of calling you mine.”
Fear warred with hope. “You are asking a lot of me, James,” she whispered.
A sigh of relief escaped his lips. “You called me James.”
She bit down a smile. “Have you missed that?”
“I have missed you.”
“I am here now,” she said.
She heard his thick swallow, then his shaky breath. “Daphne.” Her name was a plea on his lips. “Tell me I am to have another chance.”
“I do not trust easily,” she warned.
He nodded. “And you have ample reason to doubt me.” He looked so worried, so heartbroken.
She reached out and touched his forlorn face. “But you are also giving me reason to believe, however tentatively.”
He closed his eyes. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “I will not squander this opportunity,” he vowed.
“Neither will I.” An unexpected surge of bravery overtook her. She rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His arms wrapped around her on the instant. His hands splayed on her back, holding her close to him. She turned her head the tiniest bit, facing him directly. A scant breath separated them.
He bent slowly toward her. All thoughts fled but one: James Tilburn was going to kiss her.
The lightest touch of his lips on hers sent her pulse racing. She clung to him, not wanting the moment to end.
But she heard the front door open just out of sight of where they stood. James must have noticed the sound as well. He stepped away
from her a bit.
Very purposeful footfalls preceded the arrival of both Adam and Linus, neither looking particularly pleased.
Adam’s gaze settled on James. “Tilburn.”
“Your Grace,” James acknowledged, the smallest bit of worry in his tone.
“We”—Adam indicated Linus with a slight lift of his head—“have just had a most interesting conversation.”
Adam did tend toward cryptic explanations in favor of useful ones, especially when he was displeased. Daphne turned to Linus, hoping for more information.
He did not disappoint. To James he said, “Your father is a parasite.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
With effort, James assembled his muddled thoughts. Fear that the duke and lieutenant had come to skewer him for the frustratingly brief kiss he’d shared with Daphne dissipated with the realization that Father was making trouble. Again.
“I will move forward on the assumption that I find myself in a position of apologizing for my father’s behavior.”
“A good assumption,” Lieutenant Lancaster muttered.
“What has he done?” James knew without a doubt he wouldn’t like the answer.
“I refuse to gossip in the corridor,” the duke said. “To the book room.”
The Dangerous Duke and the young lieutenant made a very intimidating picture as they strode purposefully in the direction of the stairs. Watching them, James wondered how he’d managed to summon the fortitude to face the fearsome duo after his mistreatment of Daphne. They felt almost like allies now.
He turned toward Daphne and held out his hand.
“You wish for me to join you?” she asked.
If she doubted something as basic as his desire for her presence—his need for it—even after their tender moment of affection, then he had more work ahead of him than he realized. “I discovered quite early in our association that you are a godsend, Daphne. If you are willing to help me through yet another disaster of my family’s making, I would consider myself even further in your debt.”
She shook her head, color stealing across her face. She blushed adorably, though James knew better than to tell her so. She took the hand he held out to her. Progress had been made, certainly, but he still felt her hesitation. He needed only time and opportunity. She would eventually see that he could be trusted despite his less-than-stalwart history.
“What do you think your father has done?” she asked as they walked together down the corridor.
“I cannot even begin to guess.”
“Could he—” Her question ended as abruptly as it had begun. She pressed her lips together, her eyes darting away from him.
James had learned to recognize that expression. She was holding back. “You must never worry about telling me anything, Daphne.”
She studied him a moment, gauging his sincerity. He must have appeared at least momentarily trustworthy. “Do you suppose your father has decided upon another young lady to whom he will demand you pay your addresses?”
“He can demand until he’s blue in the face, for all the good it will do him,” James said.
Still, she looked unsure. “He might offer to return your income if you do.”
“There is not enough money in all the world,” he insisted.
“All the world? Are you certain? That seems like a great deal of money to me.” He heard the smile in her voice and, better yet, saw that her expression matched her tone.
They stepped into His Grace’s book room. The duke and the lieutenant occupied the precise positions they had upon James’s first encounter with the formidable gentlemen. The air, however, was not thick with the feeling of impending doom, nor were a full dozen weapons laid out for emphasis. Much had changed in a short couple of weeks.
He saw Daphne seated comfortably in a chair near the desk, though not the one he knew from experience to be ridiculously lower than the others.
“Your father has learned of your employment here,” the duke said without preamble.
“I haven’t exactly kept it a secret,” James said.
“I believe Techney rather wishes you had.” The duke leaned back casually in his chair. “Does the phrase ‘blot on the family name that is best forgotten’ sound familiar to you?”
“It is practically my second given name.”
“Signing contracts must leave you with muscle cramps,” Daphne said quietly.
James bit down a smile. To his surprise, the duke and lieutenant did the same.
“Your father waxed surprisingly eloquent at the club this afternoon about his worthless son and how desperately he wishes the young whelp didn’t continually give him reason to . . . What were the words he used, Linus? He painted such a precise picture.”
The lieutenant didn’t waste a single moment. “He bemoaned that he was burdened with a son who was a ne’er-do-well drunkard with a thirst for gambling so insatiable that he needs to seek employment simply to keep the sharks from tearing him to bits.”
That was drastic, even for Father. “What utter—”
His Grace held up a hand and cut off the rest of James’s protests. “Sadly, I was not done with my retelling.”
“There is more?” James asked. Though he should not have been surprised, he was.
“Apparently unconvinced he had maligned you thoroughly enough, your loving father told everyone who would listen that you are an unrepentant rake who continually pretends to court unsuspecting young ladies as a matter of sport.” What little humor had been in the duke’s tone disappeared entirely. “He has warned all who will listen that you have set a goal to run the gamut of innocent young ladies in London.”
James dropped into the low-lying chair across the table from the duke. Father was ripping him up before all of Society. “I am assuming that since you have not shipped my mangled remains to your Northumberland gibbet, you do not put a great deal of store by my father’s declarations.”
“As I have told you many times, Tilburn, your father is an idiot.”
James slumped lower. “An idiot working very hard to denounce me.”
“What are you willing to do to salvage your good name?” The duke pierced him with a challenging look.
James found he could not entirely rise to the occasion. “What can I possibly do?”
“You?” His Grace very nearly laughed. “You can do nothing. I, however, could do a great deal if I were so inclined.”
“Considering my history with your family, Your Grace, I do not in the least warrant your support.”
“No, you don’t.” The duke’s stern gaze remained fixed on James. “To contradict your father would be to stake my own reputation on your trustworthiness. Whether or not you are a man of honor has been a topic of very unfavorable debate in this household.”
James nodded. “Understandably so.”
“Well, Daphne.” The duke looked away from James for the first time. “What is your opinion on this matter? Does Lord Tilburn warrant my declaration of trust?”
James’s heart dropped to his boots. While he had promised mere moments earlier that he would work to regain her trust, he knew full well he did not yet have it. The duke and the lieutenant had turned their attention to her. Seeing for himself the denial on her face would be too much. He kept his gaze on the desk.
“I have seen the care he takes of his mother and brother. He works very hard to keep Techney House running smoothly. I cannot imagine he is any less responsible with his family’s Lancashire estate,” Daphne said, though with a hint of hesitation. “You know as well as I do that he has worked very hard as your secretary and without complaint. I am certain the Duke of Hartley would concur.”
It was, when one considered it, a very glowing evaluation of his work ethic. James had not expected that. Yet somehow, the compliments felt hollow.
“That is not what I asked, Daphn
e,” the duke said. “I want to know if you trust him.”
With that clarification, His Grace hit upon precisely what had been missing from Daphne’s response. Nothing in her recommendation had been in the least personal.
She studied her clasped hands a moment before lifting her eyes to her brother-in-law.
James held his breath.
“I would trust him with my own estate if I had one,” she said simply.
If ever a man had been humbled by an undeserved show of support, James was in that moment. She would trust him with her own land and home. He did not warrant Daphne’s support but somehow had it.
“Linus,” the duke said, “I believe that is endorsement enough to go through with our plan.”
They had already formulated a plan?
Lieutenant Lancaster stepped forward, his posture stern and unyielding. In a crisp, authoritative voice, he addressed James. “Let me preface this by saying in no uncertain terms that I make this offer because of my unwavering faith in my sister’s judgment, not because I have decided to fully trust you.”
James nodded his understanding.
“Your father will destroy you if he continues this campaign of his,” the lieutenant continued. “Even if his efforts were thwarted forthwith, some damage has already been done. There is just enough of a hint of truth to make people wonder. If your name is to be salvaged, all of his accusations must be addressed.”
It made sense but hardly seemed likely.
“Whilst I have been serving in the navy,” the lieutenant said, “the duke has overseen our family estate, allowing his man of business to undertake whatever efforts were necessary. My father is still living but not mentally capable of . . . well, of anything. Being of age and more able to see to my family’s affairs, I have all but taken over the helm now. Knowing I will be at sea once more, I had intended to hire an estate manager of my own.”
James nodded, though he wasn’t certain where this was headed.
Romancing Daphne Page 28
