"I don't know if I love him," Daphne admitted quietly. "But I do know that I want to be with him."
"And you're certain?" Violet pressed.
Daphne straightened her shoulders, pushing the doubt aside. "Yes. I'm sure."
Her friends seemed unconvinced, but they didn't press the matter further. Instead, the conversation shifted to the Duke once more.
"I still can't believe how vexing Ambrose is," Daphne muttered, her temper flaring again. "He thinks he can just dictate everything, that he knows better than anyone else."
Violet smiled sympathetically. "He is rather overbearing, isn't he?"
Daphne huffed in frustration. "I'll show him. I'll prove to him that I can be the perfect wife."
Isadora raised an eyebrow. "The perfect wife?"
"Yes," Daphne said, her resolve hardening. "If Ambrose is so determined to see me as unsuitable, then I'll prove him wrong. I'll be everything he thinks I can't be—graceful, poised, perfectly mannered."
Violet and Isadora exchanged glances again, this time with amusement.
"And how do you plan to do that?" Isadora asked, leaning back in her chair.
Daphne turned to her friend with a determined expression. "You're going to help me."
Isadora blinked, taken aback. "Me?"
"Yes," Daphne said with a smile. "You're always so composed, so poised. You never make a misstep in public. I need you to teach me."
Isadora's eyes widened in surprise, but then a slow smile spread across her face. "You want lessons in manners and decorum?"
Daphne nodded eagerly. "Yes. I want to show Ambrose that I'm not just some reckless girl who doesn't know how to behave."
Violet chuckled softly. "This should be interesting."
"Please, Isadora. You already have two younger sisters, and you have taught them well. Can you teach me as well?"
Isadora leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Very well, Daphne. If you're serious about this, I'll teach you. But I have to admit, it feels strange considering how you have never cared about any of this."
"Forget strange," Daphne shrugged. "Do you think it is possible?"
"Well, I don't think it will be easy," Isadora admitted. "But if you are truly willing, then perhaps we can make something work."
Perfect.That was all that Daphne wished to hear.
She grinned, ear to ear. "I'm ready."
The next morning, Daphne found herself standing in her drawing room, hands folded neatly in front of her, as Isadora circled around her like a hawk.
"Posture, Daphne," Isadora said sharply. "You're slouching again."
Daphne straightened her back, trying to hold the position Isadora had demonstrated earlier. But after only a few moments, she felt her shoulders begin to ache.
"I don't know how you do this all the time," Daphne muttered, shifting uncomfortably.
"It's practice," Isadora replied, unimpressed. "And discipline. If you're going to prove yourself to the Duke, you'll need both."
Daphne huffed in frustration, but she didn't complain further. She had asked for this, after all. Isadora had agreed to give her lessons in poise, manners, and decorum, and Daphne had promised to be a good student.
But she hadn't realized how difficult it would be.
