"Your Grace, I cannot help but think that your gentle questioning is more like an investigation,” Daphne snapped, her voice rising in anger. "Instead, you can simply state plainly what you wish to convey.”
Ambrose smirked, clearly enjoying her outburst. "I believe I just did, Lady Daphne. But if you insist on pressing the matter further, I'd be happy to elaborate."
Before Daphne could respond, Richard gently placed a hand on her arm, trying to diffuse the situation. "Let's not turn this into an argument," he said softly, glancing between her and Ambrose. "There's no need for that."
“Yes, no need,” Ambrose said, almost tauntingly. “Richard is right.”
But Daphne was finding it difficult to let it go.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Richard said, “I believe I have spotted Lord Henderson. I will be right back in a moment, and Ambrose… please, try not to argue.”
He left the two of them to their own devices for a moment, accompanied only by Daphne’s chaperone who trailed behind them.
“I see what you are trying to do here, Your Grace,” Daphne started. He had been provoking her since the moment they'd met, and she was tired of playing nice.
“WhatamI trying to do, exactly?” Ambrose replied, bored. “Richard sure knows the right moment to leave, does he not? Perhaps he should return, and extend a few calming phrases to you. You look like you are seething.”
Daphne curled her fists to the side. She was seething, he was right about that much.
“I understand that you do not seem to have a favorable opinion of me, Your Grace. But I do not think it is fair for you to try and convince your brother of the same,” she tried her best to keep her voice even.
“I believe I am at liberty to do what I see fit,” Ambrose shrugged.
He thinks that he knows better than everyone else.“But why must it include efforts to belittle me?” her voice was strained. “Perhaps I do not fit your image of what a perfect lady should be, but is it not entirely entitled of you to assume that you know everything that there is to know about me?”
Ambrose's smirk faded, his eyes narrowing. “Lady Daphne. It seems your memory is not the best. We have had this conversation before already. I knowenoughto make up my mind.”
“Well, then I shall prove you wrong,” she blurted out the words.
Her defiance made him pause for a moment. “Careful, Lady Daphne. You're treading dangerous ground."
"Is that a threat, Your Grace?"
Ambrose took a step closer, his voice lowering. "No, a threat would be taking things too far. But you can consider it to be…” he paused, observing her. “A warning.”
“How unlucky for you then that I am not easily deterred by warnings,” Daphne shot back.
“That would make you unwise,” Ambrose nodded. “Another thing to add to my list of why you’re ill-suited for my brother.”
Daphne's heart pounded in her chest, and she felt a surge of anger rise within her. She realized that this was exactly what he had meant to do – provoke her so that she reacted. Richard was close by. He could overhear them, thereby worsening her chances.
Oh. He is a cunning man.
"You don't have the right to make that decision," Daphne retorted. "Richard is his own man. He doesn't need you to control his life."
Ambrose's gaze darkened. For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, and all Daphne could focus on was the intensity of his stare, the way his presence seemed to fill the space between them.
"You think you know Richard? You only knowofhim," Ambrose's voice was barely above a whisper now, but it was laced with menace. "You think you understand what it means to be part of this world? You're nothing but a naive girl playing at being a lady. You'll ruin him."
Daphne opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, Ambrose reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her closer. The sudden contact sent a jolt through her, and for a brief moment, she was too stunned to react.
"Don't challenge me, Lady Daphne," Ambrose warned, his voice low and dangerous.
Her heart raced, not from fear, but from the sheer proximity of him. She could feel the heat of his body, the firmness of his grip on her arm. For a moment, all she could do was stare up at him, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
But then, just as quickly, her defiance returned. She yanked her arm free from his grasp, her eyes blazing with anger.
"Or what?" she shot back, her voice trembling slightly but still defiant. "What will you do, Your Grace? You can't control me, nor can you control your brother. I know you hate to hear this, but it is the truth."
