"Mother, I think it's best if you do not pressure him," Richard spoke up. "We both know that Ambrose cannot be persuaded if he does not wish to be."
Edith sighed. "Ah, for he inherited his father's stubbornness..."
At the mention of their father, a flicker of discomfort passed over Ambrose's face. His jaw tightened imperceptibly, and a strange tension settled in the room. Though he was careful not to show it outwardly, the mention of their father always dredged upmemories he preferred to leave buried. Memories of a man who had shouldered the weight of the dukedom with the same cold sense of duty Ambrose had inherited, a man whose approval Ambrose had never quite earned, no matter how hard he tried.
Ambrose shifted in his chair, straightening his back and clearing his throat. "Let's not make this about me," he said quickly, his tone edged with finality. "Richard, we should be discussing your future. You've been courting Lady Daphne for some time now, haven't you?"
The sudden change in topic was obvious, but neither Edith nor Richard commented on it. Richard, however, bristled slightly at the direction the conversation was taking.
"I don't see how this concerns you, Ambrose," Richard said, his brow furrowing. "My courtship with Daphne is going well."
"Is it?" Ambrose asked, "From where I'm standing, it looks more like a fleeting infatuation than anything serious."
Richard's eyes narrowed, the growing tension between the brothers palpable. "Daphne is more than capable of being the duchess you expect her to be."
Ambrose raised an eyebrow, his skepticism plain. "Daphne is impulsive and reckless. She may have her charms, but she lacks the discipline and decorum necessary to fulfill the duties of a duchess. You know that, Richard."
Edith, who had been observing the exchange closely, sighed again. "Ambrose is right, Richard. Lady Daphne may be sweet, but she is not... suited to the responsibilities that come with being part of our family."
Richard shook his head, his expression hardening. "It wouldn't hurt to give Daphne a fair chance, brother. You seem particularly pre-disposed to disliking her."
Daphne's face flashed in the Duke's mind. He did not know what it was about that girl, but somehow, he knew exactly how to get a reaction out of him. A rare thing, of course.
"A fair chance, Richard? Is that what you call it? I thought I'd been more than generous by tolerating her presence at all," he sneered.
Richard bristled, his fists clenching as he leaned forward. "Tolerating her? You've done nothing but criticize her since the moment you laid eyes on her."
"Oh, forgive me for not falling at her feet after she nearly tripped into the lake. Quite the first impression, I must say."
Richard's eyes flashed with anger. "She's more than capable, Ambrose. You've hardly spoken to her, yet you sit there on your high horse, acting like you know everything about her."
Ambrose smirked, turning fully toward Richard, folding his arms over his chest. "And I'm sure you've had lengthy, profoundconversations about the intricacies of estate management and social decorum, haven't you? Or do your discussions consist mostly of compliments on her gown and which flowers look prettiest in her hair?"
"You're impossible! You act as if you're the only one who understands responsibility. As if you're the only one who knows what's best for everyone."
Ambrose's smirk deepened, his tone smooth and condescending. "Well, someone has to, Richard. And since you seem so utterly bewitched by a woman who can barely manage polite conversation without spilling tea, I'd say I'm doing you a favor."
"You think you're so much better than everyone else, don't you?" Richard's anger flared. "For the umpteenth time, I want you to get this through your head – you do not get to control my life."
Ambrose didn't flinch, instead emanating quiet, self-assured confidence. "I'm not trying to control your life, Richard. I'm merely pointing out that your infatuation with Daphne is clouding your judgment. Someone has to think clearly around here, and we both know it isn't you."
"Daphne is more than a fleeting infatuation! You simply do not know her."
Ambrose cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Really, Richard? What exactly has she done that's so impressive? Asidefrom falling into your arms every time she gets flustered, of course."
Richard's eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with sarcasm now. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize we all had to be cold, emotionless statues to meet your high standards. Maybe if she frowned more, she'd have your approval."
"Emotion has its place. But I'm afraid Daphne operates purely on it. She's reckless. Unpredictable. Hardly qualities befitting someone to marry into our family..." Ambrose sparred.
"She istrying," Richard pressed, his fists now balled up against his sides. The tension in the room was rising by the second, and it would only take a small spark to ignite a fire that would not be so easy to put out.
"My dearest brother, just because someone is ‘trying' doesn't mean they're suitable. This isn't a game. This is our family's future. You don't just marry someone because they're charming at a few balls."
"You're so afraid of being vulnerable that you wouldn't recognize a genuine connection if it hit you in the face. Daphne may not be perfect, but at least she's real."
Up until this point, Richard had not been able to get through to Ambrose. His words simply ricocheted off his hardened exterior, but this one stung.
"I'm trying to save you from a lifetime of regret. Marrying Daphne would be a mistake—a very costly one."
