Without wasting another moment, Daphne made her way downstairs. Any more thinking, and she might change her mind again.
Her eyes darted toward the large drawing room doors where the guests had gathered, but Ambrose was nowhere to be seen. The ladies were huddled in groups, engaged in polite conversation and gossip, while the men gathered at the far end, laughing over drinks and a round of cards.
Richard was among them, his back turned to her as he joined the men in conversation. She hesitated for a moment, watching him from afar. His posture was relaxed, his expression open and pleasant as always. But he hardly noticed her presence.
Probably for the best,she reminded herself. If Richard did notice her wandering off, he might ask her what she was doing, and somehow telling him that she wanted to thank his brother for coming to her defense didn't seem like a conversation you have with someone whom you are in a courtship with.
Courtship.She winced internally at the word, but decided against dwelling over how out of place it sounded.
No, she had a task to do.
Daphne made her way back upstairs, her steps quick and slightly agitated. She clenched her fists at her sides in frustration.Of course,she thought to herself,whenever I'm trying to avoid Ambrose, he seems to be everywhere—looming over conversations, throwing in his sharp remarks at every opportunity.
But now, now that she actuallywantedto speak to him, he was nowhere to be found.
Everything about his existence in her life felt like an annoying challenge. Had he disappeared suddenly into thin air?
But then she noticed it—the soft glow of light spilling out from under a door just down the hall.
The study.
"He must be in there," she whispered to herself, and hurried down the hall. But her hand hovered over the door for a long moment before she finally rapped her pale knuckles against the wood.
A brief pause, and then a deep, familiar voice from within: "Come in."
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she turned the brass knob and entered the study.
And there he was – seated firmly on his desk, a stack of papers in front of him. He was still dressed in his evening clothes, though his cravat was loosened, and the jacket discarded on a nearby chair. The casualness of his appearance caught her slightly off guard.
"Are you lost?" came his reply, his tone immediately sharp and irritated, cutting through the quiet air of the study. He didn't bother to rise from his chair, instead fixing her with a pointed look.
"No, I'm not lost," she snapped back, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze. "I came... to... well, would you not invite me to take a seat first?"
Her nervousness had caught up to her. Now in front of him, she found herself stumbling on her words.
Ambrose never took his gaze off her, even for a second. "What, exactly, could you have to say that is so important it requires an audience in my study?"
Then abruptly, he stood up. "Have you arrived here to cause a scandal?" his tone laced with mockery as he towered over her.
"If I wanted to cause a scandal, Your Grace," she shot back, her tone sharp and full of sarcasm, "I'd be far more creative than simply showing up in your study unannounced."
Of course.She should have known already that he was going to make things more difficult than they ought to be for her.
Ambrose's lips twitched into a smirk, but the irritation in his eyes hadn't faded. "I would not put it past you to be well-versed in the art of causing a scandal. But even if that is your intent, it would be your word against mine."
Daphne wanted to roll her eyes at his ridiculous assumption but willed herself to be more polite than what she was feeling. She straightened her shoulders, her expression calm. "No, I have come to speak with you."
A look of mild curiosity came across his features. "Speak with me? I was not aware that was something you liked to do."
"Not if I can help it, no." Her tone carried just the slightest edge, but she pushed on, not giving him the satisfaction of riling her up. "But I had no choice in this case."
Ambrose's smirk deepened, and he leaned casually against the desk, folding his arms across his chest as he looked at her with amusement. "No choice? My, this must be important then. I'm intrigued. What has forced Lady Daphne to willingly endure a conversation with me?"
Daphne fidgeted with the fabric of her dress, clearly struggling to get the words out. "I came here to..." she began, her voice faltering as she hesitated, gripping the cloth even tighter. "To..."
Ambrose let out a dramatic sigh, his arms still crossed over his chest as he watched her. "As much as I relish our time together, I must say it's equally painful waiting for you to actually speak as it is to endure the conversation itself."
"Well, if you didn't interrupt me every time I tried to speak, maybe this wouldn't be so painful for either of us," she snapped back, losing all her progress in an instant.
