Her friends exchanged another glance, this one more serious than before. But before they could press her further, Daphne stood up abruptly, smoothing the fabric of her gown. "But really, there's nothing to worry about," she added, flashing them another bright smile. "I'm sure it'll happen when the time is right."
Isadora watched her carefully for a moment longer, but then sighed, letting it go. "Well, we'll see, won't we?"
Violet grinned, clearly excited by the prospect. "Oh, when it does happen, you must tell us immediately. We're dying to know all the details!"
Daphne nodded, but her heart wasn't in it. She couldn't help but wonder why the thought of marrying Richard—something that had always seemed so natural—now felt so unsettling. And why, despite everything, it wasn't Richard's face she kept seeing in her mind, but Ambrose's?
Something had shifted within her, and the flutter in her chest told her that nothing would be the same after today.
Ambrose sat at his desk, running a hand through his dark hair, his brows furrowed in concentration as he sifted through the endless paperwork. The hunt from earlier had been enough of a distraction, but now, back in the quiet of his study, he could finally focus—until a familiar knock echoed at the door.
A moment later, his mother walked in.
"Ambrose, darling," Edith greeted as she stepped inside, her tone warm. She closed the door behind her with a soft click, and Ambrose knew—just knew—she was here for one reason. To bring up marriage, again.
He sighed heavily, bracing himself for another conversation about "suitable matches" and "heirs to the dukedom." This was the last thing he needed after the day he'd had.
"Mother," he acknowledged politely. "To what do I owe the pleasure this time?"
Edith was silent for a moment. She walked over to one of the chairs in front of his desk and seated herself gracefully.
"I heard the hunt was... eventful," she said finally, folding her hands in her lap.
Ambrose's head snapped up in surprise. That wasn't what he had expected. He frowned slightly. "From whom?"
"Your Uncle Sebastian."
Of course. Trust Sebastian to give his sister all the news. Ambrose bit back another groan.
"Well then, I suppose I don't have to tell you anything. He must have already done that for me," Ambrose said, attempting to sound nonchalant, but he could feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck at the thought of the conversation that might follow.
Edith's smile was small but amused. "He might have mentioned a few things."
Ambrose clenched his jaw slightly, unsure of what exactly his uncle had told her. His thoughts immediately jumped to Daphne—how he had found her in the woods, how close they had been, how the air had shifted between them.
His mother's voice cut through his reverie. "He said you saved Lady Daphne."
Ambrose stiffened, and before he could help it, he felt heat rise to his cheeks.
Ambrose was not one for blushing. Of course, though, ithadto be Daphne whose memory made him do so.
He quickly looked down at the papers scattered across his desk, desperately trying to hide the fact that his thoughts had been so... inappropriate. This was ridiculous. He shouldn't be feeling this way. Especially not about her.
"I—well," he stammered, his usual composure momentarily slipping, "It wasn't anything, really. She just... fell behind. I found her, that's all."
"Mmm," Edith replied, a knowing look on her face, "Just that?"
Ambrose cleared his throat and straightened up in his chair, forcing his voice to steady. "Yes, Mother. Is that all you came to ask?"
He half expected her to bring up marriage then. As she had always done the last few times that they had spoken in private. But to his surprise, Edith simply shook her head and stood up, smoothing out the skirts of her gown. "That's all," she said, her tone light.
Ambrose blinked, startled by her response. "That's... all?"
She gave him a small smile. "Yes, darling. You seem to have enough on your plate without me pestering you further."
Ambrose watched as she left the room, the soft click of the door echoing in the quiet that followed. For a long moment, he just sat there, staring at the now-closed door, feeling... strange.
It wasn't like his mother to leave without a lecture or a reminder of his "duty" to marry and provide an heir. The fact that she had let the subject drop so easily left him feeling uneasy.
