A Return of Devotion

by Kristi Ann Hunter

  But perhaps the best part he could play was to remove himself. He could go to London or Dawnview Hall or one of the other estates now under his care. There was no real reason he needed to keep a presence here. If Morris started packing now, he could leave soon after Kit and Graham.

  Haven Manor could be Daphne’s home once again.

  Daphne was shaking as she walked into the room to visit with Martha. Within a few moments, though, it didn’t matter that Martha was a stranger. She was a woman who needed Daphne, and that was all it took for Daphne to willingly and without qualm share personal details with the terrified young woman.

  Martha had shared very little in return, but there was no mistaking the look of relief on her face and possibly even the hint of excitement when Daphne had assured her there was a cottage just outside Marlborough where she could stay. Where she’d be able to walk outside freely without worry.

  They talked for a long while, Daphne sharing her story and the new plans and possibilities Haven Manor was going to provide. Mrs. Lancaster kept a pot of tea available, as well as plates of meat, cheese, and biscuits. It was late by the time the conversation ran down. Too late for Daphne to return home.

  And then she became uncomfortable.

  Without the focus of how she would help Martha, Daphne didn’t know what to say. Despite the fact that she remembered how incredibly tired she’d been while carrying Benedict and worrying about the future, she was convinced every one of Martha’s sighs was condemnation from the other woman. It didn’t make any logical sense, but Daphne’s churning middle didn’t seem to care.

  She lay stiffly on the second bed above the shop in Mrs. Lancaster’s upper rooms, waiting for the first vestiges of daylight to appear so she could make her escape.

  The town was barely stirring when she made her way through it the next morning. The few people around moved with purpose and had no interest in exchanging more than a polite nod. She was able to escape her little town without having to converse with anyone.

  At the bridge on the north side of town, she encountered Kit and Graham’s carriage. They were on their way to Bath to visit his parents.

  She talked with them easily for several minutes, informing them of her talk with Martha and then wishing them a pleasant journey. Why couldn’t she see everyone else the same way she saw her friends? Weren’t all of them simply people?

  “We’ve plenty of time to turn around and give you a ride back to Haven Manor before we go. A short delay won’t keep us from reaching Bath today,” Kit offered.

  “No,” Daphne said, climbing out of their carriage to resume her walk home. “I’m glad I got to see you before you left, but I think I’d like to walk.”

  As she continued on her way, a ridiculous sense of relief that it was them en route to the resort town and not her flooded through her.

  What did that mean? What did her conversation with Martha mean? It felt like she had learned a great deal about herself in the past few hours, but she wasn’t entirely sure what and had no idea what to actually do with it.

  The answers didn’t come to her as she walked through the woods.

  They didn’t hit her when she saw the lake.

  She refused to return to the house without them, though, so she plopped herself in the middle of a glen full of purple flowers.

  She was not going to run. She was not going to hide. She was going to sit here, face reality, and make a decision.

  For once she was going to choose to be strong instead of being forced into being so. The strength of necessity had been good and welcome when she’d brought Benedict screaming and wailing into the world with a future more uncertain than a field mouse’s. Then she’d had no alternative.

  Everyone thought her strong to raise the children at Haven Manor, but she had to admit to herself that doing so had been more of an escape than anything else. She loved the children, loved every moment of raising them, but she’d been excessively thankful for the need to hide them because it meant she could hide with them.

  Daphne was finished hiding.

  Well. Maybe not completely finished. Large groups of people were never going to be something she could handle easily, but she’d learned recently it was possible to widen her circle. She even shared a joke with Horatia the other day. How far could she expand it if she took it one step at a time?

  Daphne had a very good imagination. Maybe she could imagine herself in the scenario he’d painted. So what if she’d never tried to dream up something that could actually happen? It couldn’t be that different a process.

  With a groan of frustration, she dropped back into the field of bluebells carpeting the glen. Taking charge of one’s life was hard.

  Wouldn’t it be nice if William were to cross this field right now? If he said he refused to accept her refusal and laid out all of the ways they could fix everything?

  Daphne sighed. That would be delightful. He could take her in his arms and give her one of those glorious kisses and tell her . . . tell her . . .

  With a frown Daphne sat up. What would he tell her? Why couldn’t she picture it?

  Perhaps because for the first time in a very, very long time, what was said mattered. This wasn’t some pleasurable mental escape that she could shrug off with a smile. This was reality. She actually wanted this dream to happen.

  William was a man of honor. He would respect her decision and walk away if she continued to tell him no. But if she could dream up what she wished he’d offer her, would she find a way for them to be together? Would she be able to tell him yes?

  She plucked a handful of flowers and picked at them while she considered her options. It was easy to visualize William sitting across from her. It was ridiculously easy to visualize William anywhere these days.

  But what did she want him to say? If he were to make another offer, build his case once more, what would she accept?

  I can manage the marquisette from here. There won’t be any reason for you to ever leave Haven Manor.

  No. Daphne shook her head and threw the handful of bluebells away in a shower of mutilated petals. William would never say that. And she wouldn’t want him to. Part of what she loved about him was he took his position seriously. He wanted to be a responsible nobleman, take care of his people and his country. That required attending Parliament and visiting his tenants.

  Providing an heir.

  Daphne flopped back into the flowers and pulled the brim of her bonnet down until it covered her face. Physical pain sliced through her chest at the thought of him marrying someone else. But he would have to. Every night for the rest of her life, she would lie in bed and wonder if this was the night when he met the woman who would accept the life Daphne had rejected.

  No.

  That was an absolutely miserable future and one Daphne refused to choose.

  She pushed herself up and began to pace, her mind whirling but not landing on anything.

  She didn’t actually know how to make a decision.

  What a scary realization.

  “Lord,” she murmured, “I’m going to need a bit of help here.”

  She scrubbed her hands down her face. A starting point. That was all she usually needed when she let her mind drift away. Once she had a starting point the rest would all unravel like a poorly knitted blanket.

  William was a marquis. He had a job to do. He would have to go to London at least part of the year.

  Perhaps he could go without her? It wasn’t as if every man brought his family to town, was it? Yes, his parents had lived separately, but it sounded as if they’d done that year round. If Daphne came to Haven Manor while William went to London, it would be a simple stage ride for him to come see her.

  Or for her to go see him. She wouldn’t mind the opera. Or perhaps a visit from a close friend or two, once she got to know his friends. Especially with him at her side. It wouldn’t be like before, where she stood in a corner on her own, expected to make witty conversation and social connections. She’d be with William. He
could do the talking and she could just be with him.

  She could spend a few days in London and then go back to Haven Manor to rest and breathe. Check on the women.

  He said Dawnview Hall was huge. She could allot herself a private space, away from people. He could have whomever he needed at the house without her having to be around them all the time. Then she’d be able to see the women working in his factory. She could visit the children in the school he was creating.

  She imagined it, saw how it could be. She could definitely do it. And she thought she might even . . . like it?

  It wasn’t the way any normal aristocratic marriage worked, but then again, William had shunned most of what was considered normal aristocratic behavior, so he probably wouldn’t mind that so much.

  She grabbed up another bunch of flowers and fiddled them into shreds while she paced and thought and dreamed up her perfect reality. She was going to make this work.

  Chapter forty-three

  What had once been a riot of overgrown gardens, lawns, and tree copses was now a beautiful array of manicured lawns and carefully edged nature walks surrounded by a wild wood. It was amazing what a little time and attention could do.

  This was a place where he could truly learn to be at home.

  Which made his imminent departure unfortunate.

  Would he ever see these lands again with the lake, the bridge, and the interesting collection of outbuildings? It was unlikely. If he allowed himself to return, he’d come back again and again, hoping this time Daphne would choose to join him. That hope would turn into an anchor that would eventually sink him. He’d never find a wife if he entertained the notion that Daphne would one day change her mind.

  He couldn’t do that. He had a title to consider. If he didn’t . . . well, if he didn’t, there wouldn’t have been an issue in the first place. He’d gladly ensconce them both here, raising a little family in their own little world.

  But he had a responsibility to England to provide a good and noble heir to the title. And while he still held out hope that Edmond would grow into a mature, capable, good-hearted adult, he wasn’t willing to gamble the future of his country or the people in his care on his abilities to erase his father’s legacy from the boy.

  It made him nauseous just to think of marrying someone other than Daphne. That was all the more reason to stay away from here. It would take time before he could see to his duty. He knew he was likely going to have to marry a woman he didn’t love, but he refused to do so while actively loving another. Once Daphne was nothing more than a painful memory, he would be able to consider marrying another.

  Not today. Not tomorrow either. But eventually.

  He turned his back on the view and reentered the house. There were things here he wanted to commit to memory, no matter how painful they might be. Benedict had surprised him this morning by bringing a brand-new dining table with him in the work wagon. William moved into the dining room and trailed a hand across the polished surface, admiring the clean lines and lack of knee-crushing extensions. There were still gargoyles, though. Delicate ones no more than three inches large carved into the tops of the curved legs.

  He dropped into a chair and ran a finger idly over the grinning, winged creature staring ahead, seeing nothing.

  “There are loaded trunks in the front hall.” He turned to find Daphne standing in the doorway, cheeks flushed, mouth set in a grim, determined line.

  “Yes,” William said, drinking in his last sight of her much like he had the grounds moments earlier. “I’m leaving.”

  “When will you return?”

  He shook his head. Once he said these words, everything would be done. Final. “I’m not.”

  She entered the room fully and sat in the chair around the corner from him. The shadow of her hands on the table pained him. He could reach out and take her hand. One more time he could feel the texture of her skin, the rough and the soft that was uniquely Daphne.

  He could. But he wouldn’t. There wasn’t any reason to put himself through the torture.

  “Keep as much of the staff on as you need to keep the house in its current state,” he said. “Bring the women here. Help them, teach them. If I’m not here, no one will have reason to visit. They’ll be safe.”

  Her fingers knotted together on the tabletop. “I was thinking,” she said softly, “about what you said, about the way you saw the future.”

  He grunted a confirmation that he’d heard her. He didn’t need a reminder that his dreams would always remain unattainable figments of his imagination.

  “And I was wondering if it was open to a little . . . adjustment.”

  William gave his eyes permission to seek out hers, to gaze at her face like they longed to do. “What sort of adjustment?”

  “I’ll never be able to handle large groups of people. London for weeks on end would make me ill, but you don’t socialize much, and I think that if we ease into it slowly and I have you by my side, I could learn to live in your world.”

  William’s breathing stopped as the hope he’d tried to kill flared to life as she spoke. His hand slid across the table to wrap over hers while she laid out her thoughts. A slow introduction to his friends until her comfort circle widened. Carefully managed time in London. Specific tasks for her to accomplish whenever she needed to interact with the tenants at Dawnview. Using the cottage here at Haven Manor to help the women.

  She turned her hand over and locked her fingers with his. “I know you’re scared we’ll end up like your parents, but the truth is, William, as much as I love you, I really like being by myself sometimes. It wouldn’t be typical, but I think we can make it work.”

  William’s brain was still stuck in the mire of shock and surprise at her meticulously thought-out compromise, but his body had understood everything because he was rising from his chair, walking to her side, and pulling her into his arms.

  He blindly groped for her head to pull her into an awkward kiss. In his exuberance, he missed completely, his lips instead connecting with her cheek. He scattered kisses across her face, making her laugh, until finally his lips settled against hers.

  It wasn’t long before he was having to remind himself that they weren’t married yet, and he hugged her close, resting his chin on her head as they gently swayed together.

  “Did you say you love me?” he asked roughly.

  “Yes,” she mumbled into his chest before tilting her head back to smile up at him. “Is that the only part you heard?”

  “No,” he said, his answering smile so wide his face hurt. “I also heard a woman who put her powerful imagination to good use and came up with a solution I’d have never considered.”

  “I’m assuming the offer to be mistress of this house is still open, then? You agree with my proposal?”

  “Now that you’ve agreed to fill it, the position is permanently closed,” he said, surprised by the gruffness in his own voice. “And by proposal I assume you meant you were going to marry me, didn’t you?”

  “Things would be rather awkward if I didn’t. Particularly if we have children.”

  He gently helped her back into her chair before seating himself in his again. There would be time for holding each other later. An appropriate time. They’d both done it wrong before. He was going to make sure they did it right this time.

  Not having some form of connection with her drove him crazy, though, so he joined their hands across the table once more. “All I ever wanted was to be someone other than my father. I thought my parents’ problems were all his fault. But maybe it wouldn’t have mattered if my mother had come to London more or if my father had stayed in the country more because they never loved each other.”

  William took a deep breath. “Your plan is going to be difficult and it’s going to need adjusting along the way. But a complicated life with you by my side is better than anything else I could ever find.”

  “I’ll never enjoy society,” Daphne said. “They’ll never really accept me.”
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br />   William grinned. “I’ve never really accepted them. I think you’ll find my friends a bit different from the people you remember from your Season.”

  Daphne licked her lips. “There is one more thing.”

  “Name it.” He’d give her the world if she just agreed to stay in his.

  “I may have to insist on Araminta moving into the dower house.”

  William laughed. “Consider it done.” Because it already was. He’d sent word last week for her to begin making preparations. “I love you, soon-to-be Lady Chemsford.”

  Daphne paled and drooped against the back of her chair. “I’m going to be a lady.”

  William partially rose and leaned over to place a gentle kiss on her lips, taking care to keep it quick and soft. “You’re going to be my wife.”

  Three weeks later, Daphne stood in the back of St. Mary’s, getting ready to say the vows that would make her a marchioness. She’d thought her life reclusive and empty until she saw how many people were standing in the church.

  Kit and Graham were standing in one row, Jess on one side of them and Daphne’s father on the other. Tears rolled unchecked down her father’s face as he smiled in her direction.

  Behind them were Nash and his wife and their four children.

  Across the aisle was Mrs. Lancaster with one arm around Eugenia and the other around Sarah. Reuben was next to them, standing tall and proud. Working in the stable agreed with him, as he looked less scrawny than he had a few months ago.

  Daphne felt the small prick of tears behind her eyes. Sarah would be leaving them soon. William had gotten her a position as a parlor maid in a music master’s house, and use of the piano had been included in the job offer. The young woman was as excited for the adventure as Daphne was nervous.

  “You can stay at Haven Manor, you know. We can hire a music master,” Daphne had told the girl.

  She’d wrapped her thin arms around Daphne and shaken her head. “It’s time we all start our new lives. You’re going to be teaching unfortunate women how to live on their own and survive in this world. Consider me another success story. I’m ready, Mama Daphne. I’m ready to live my life.”