"Well I do not blame you," Lady Eugenia interjected swiftly, "The Estate grounds are quite an excellent place to do so. And I must say, the company has been just as pleasant."
Her eyes slid briefly to Daphne, and though her words were kind, there was a subtle edge in them, as if she had already determined who belonged in her circle of company—and who did not.
"I'm glad we ran into you. Perhaps we could all walk together for a bit?" Richard continued.
Ambrose's gaze flicked to her once more, a brief pause before he replied. "Unfortunately, Lady Eugenia and I were just about to conclude our walk," he said smoothly. "But perhaps another time."
A wave of relief washed over Daphne.Thank heavens.
"Of course," Richard said. "Perhaps another time, then."
As they parted ways, Daphne could not help but steal a glance in the Duke's direction. To her absolute horror, he seemed to be doing the same thing.
Their gaze met for a brief moment, before both of them looked away, quickening their pace. And as Daphne willed herself to return to the conversation she was having with Richard, she realized just how not interested she was in having it.
CHAPTER 12
"Perhaps a word of gratitude will not hurt."
Daphne talked to herself as she paced the length of her room that she was staying in. She had come back from her evening promenade some time ago to an empty room. She suspected that her sister Joyce was likely downstairs, socializing with theton.
But her sister's absence was the last of her concerns at the moment. No, what occupied Daphne's mind was a lot more... complicated.
She willed herself to look at her own reflection in the vanity mirror. Pale skin, and a pair of green eyes stared back at her.
Eyes just like her mother.Her father had told her once, when she was very young, that they will be the reason some man falls in love with her someday. The memory lingered as she tucked her hair behind her ear, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
She sighed.Well, they aren't exactly helping me now,she thought.
Richard did not seem to be in love with her. He was polite, and a perfect gentleman at all times, of course. But love? That would be an exaggeration.
Their connection, if it could be called that, lacked any spark, any sense of passion. It was as if they were simply walking along parallel paths, never really crossing, never colliding.
Was she even in love with him?
Finewas the only word she could use to describe it. And somehow, that word felt so inadequate. Shouldn't love be more than that?
She pushed the thought away from her head, and refocused her attention to her reflection in the mirror.
"Thank you," she whispered to her reflection, forcing herself to meet her own gaze. "Thank you, Your.. G-r... your... Gra..."
Try as she might, she could hardly get the words out of her throat. It felt like an unnatural order of things – to place gratitude and Ambrose in the same sentence.
In earnest, she had been at war with herself about it. Thanking Ambrose – the idea itself seemed ridiculous, considering how much of a thorn he had proven himself to be in her path.
Yet, after this morning's unexpected intervention at breakfast, she couldn't stop thinking about it. No matter how much her mind rebelled against the idea, the truth was clear: Ambrose had defended her. And it wasn't just a casual defense; he had silenced Lord Whitby in a way that had stunned the entire table. For a moment, she had felt... protected. And she hated that she even felt grateful for it.
"Thank you," she tried again, this time adding a slight nod, as if to practice the whole gesture. "Your... Grace."
Finally.Now only to say it to his face. Now she just had to say it to his face, and that was a far more daunting task.
Daphne straightened her shoulders, giving her reflection one last look. The determined expression staring back at her was convincing enough, but her stomach churned.
Why did this feel like such an ordeal?It was a simple thank you, but something about the prospect of facing Ambrose and offering him her gratitude felt monumental. It was like walking into the lion's den willingly.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself as she made her way toward the door.I can do this,she told herself.It's just two words. Four, if you count "Your Grace."
Perhaps it might even do some good, and he might stop being such a nuisance to her, if he sensed that she was willing to be civil, even grateful. Maybe, just maybe, this small gesture of politeness would put an end to their constant bickering. After all,he had defended her, and while she couldn't quite make sense of it, it was only proper to acknowledge it.
