"Lady Eugenia, for instance," he continued, glancing briefly across the room where a striking brunette stood, laughing delicately among a group of admirers. "She's arrived here fromBath. She hardly has to try, does she? A natural charmer, one might say."
Daphne found herself staring at the lady. She did appear to be perfectly poised,naturally so.Unlike herself who had to plead with her friend to polish up on her etiquette.
"I see," Daphne's voice tightened. He had hit the nail with that comment, and the ever-present self-satisfied smirk on his face told her that he understood that much. "Well, I suppose everyone has their charms."
"Yes, something about everyone," Ambrose nodded. "Though I will say, something entirely different about you. You do... stand outfrom the bunch."
Her stomach dropped at his words. There it was – his words were nothing more than a thinly concealed taunt. That she didn't belong. Not here, not among the polished and perfect women of theton.
Daphne's throat tightened, but she forced herself to remain calm, keeping her voice as steady as she could manage. "How fortunate for me, then," she replied, her tone clipped, "that I've never had much interest in blending in."
"Taking the road less travelled, I see," he nodded, curiosity flashing in his expression. "Risky, and quite the lonesome ride."
"I'll take my chances, I suppose. Now, if you will excuse me..."
And with that, she walked away—abruptly, without a backward glance. Her pace quickened as she moved through the room, weaving between guests, ignoring the curious glances cast in her direction.
Now that she thought about it, impressing Richard was not going to be difficult. Or at least, nothing compared to the Duke.
Ambrose watched Daphne's abrupt retreat, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched her leave.
Something about her response had gnawed at him. Sure, he had mentioned the other ladies with the express intention of getting her to doubt herself. It was not the kindest thing to do, of course, but a necessary recourse if he was going to thwart all possibilities of marriage between her and his brother.
And it had worked. There had been a flicker of something raw behind her clipped tone – only for a fraction of a second – something that didn't fit with the image of the self-assured, quick-witted woman she tried to project.
Should that not be a cause of celebration? Why was it then making him feel...concerned?
"Oh, ridiculous," he muttered to himself, signaling to one of the waiters to bring him a glass of champagne.
Ambrose shook his head slightly, irritated by his own lingering thoughts. He had better things to focus on than whatever turmoil Lady Daphne Carter might be experiencing.
But even as he took a sip out of the champagne, the gnawing sense prevailed that he had struck a nerve—one far more delicate than he intended.
But before he could dwell any further, his mother's voice broke his thoughts.
"Ambrose, my dear. There you are," the Dowager approached him, "I've been looking for you. There are some young ladies you simplymustmeet. It's time we paid attention to more suitable prospects, wouldn't you say?"
He tore his gaze away from the terrace doors, the direction where he spotted Daphne heading, and returned his gaze to his mother. "Must I?"
He had sung high praises for the ladies in attendance in front of Daphne, but in earnest, he could not be more disinterested. They were all the same, cut from the exact cloth, predictable without even knowing them.
"Of course," Edith responded. "If we are going through the trouble of hosting all these people at our Estate, I expect you to try your hardest at trying to connect with at least one of them."
Ambrose shrugged, his gaze sweeping over the various gowns – and the women in them – that populated his immediate field of vision. His mother's gaze was fixed on him, unblinking and relentless. She was a woman on a mission tonight, and Ambrose did not particularly feel like an argument.
"If you insist..."
CHAPTER 9
"Let us not waste a second longer, then!"
The Dowager smiled brightly, no doubt pleased that her son had not argued. She held him by the arm, leading him over to the group of eager-eyed young ladies that awaited him.
"Now I want you to give the ladies here a fair chance," Idiots advised her son. "You might not know what you are missing out on unless you keep an open mind."
"Anything you say, Mother," Ambrose replied, disinterested. He was already looking forward to getting this over with.
He trailed behind as his mother led the charge, approaching a pair of eager young women. The first one was a blonde-haired lady, taller than average.
