His uncle was riding alongside him. "Tell me more about this Lady Daphne woman," he started.
"There is nothing to tell you," Ambrose replied, irked.
"Are you certain? You seem to have quite the strong opinion about her. I am merely curious to know why."
"I assure you nothing I will have to say about her will be very deep," Ambrose resisted the urge to roll his eyes out of respect for his uncle.
"But do you wish to get to know her more deeply?"
Ambrose did not understand why his uncle would ask that. He had hardly asked him that about any other woman, let alone any other person.
"I am the wrong person to ask in the first place. If you really wish to know, you should consult my brother."
Sebastian gave him a pointed look. "Ah, yes, Richard," he nodded. "If I were you, I wouldn't be so quick to hand her over to your brother. After all, Richard may be charming, but I'd wager she's not the type to settle for charm alone."
Ambrose nearly stopped his horse. But then he composed himself. His uncle did not know what he was talking about.
"I have no interest incharminganyone. And I certainly don't care what she does or doesn't settle for."
"Perhaps you should. She seems like someone more suited to be with you."
"You're wasting your breath," he muttered.What a ridiculous thing to suggest.
But Sebastian merely shrugged, clearly unbothered by his nephew's temper. "Suit yourself, but I've been around long enough to recognize the look in a man's eyes when something—or someone—is getting under his skin. And I'm telling you, Lady Daphne is under yours."
Ambrose let out a frustrated sigh, his eyes flicking once more to where Daphne and Richard were riding ahead, their laughter drifting back toward him on the breeze. He hated that his uncle's words were worming their way into his thoughts, but there was no denying that something about Daphne—her defiance, her boldness—was getting under his skin.
Still, the idea of competing with Richard for her attention seemed utterly ridiculous. He had no desire to play that game, especially not with someone as infuriating as Daphne. No, it was better to keep his distance.
"Enough of this," Ambrose said, shaking his head.
As they neared a wooded area, Ambrose realized what he was doing—again.
He was stealing glances at her.
This was madness. Why was he allowing her to occupy so much of his thoughts? He clenched his jaw, determined to put some distance between them.
"I suggest we split into teams," Ambrose announced abruptly, turning to address the group. "We'll cover more ground that way."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Richard, of course, was the first to respond. "Splendid idea," he said, turning to Daphne. "Shall we be a team, Daphne?"
Daphne smiled and nodded, and Ambrose felt his irritation spike once more.
"Very well," Ambrose said, his voice tight. "But let's keep things efficient."
As they divided into groups, he led his own group in the opposite direction, determined to distance himself from whatever nonsense was happening between his brother and Daphne. She was a distraction, nothing more.
They continued with the hunt. After relentless tracking, they were finally able to spot a prey.
"Let me get this," he said to his uncle, who nodded gleefully.
Ambrose dismounted his mare and crouched low in the underbrush, his rifle poised.
His pulse should have been steady, his mind clear. The target was right there, just beyond the bushes, and with one careful shot, he could bring it down.
Ambrose's grip tightened on the rifle, but not on the task at hand.
