Gulp.
She could feel his presence immediately, even though they weren't speaking or looking at each other.
For a fleeting moment, Daphne tried to convince herself that nothing had changed, that the rapid beat of her heart and the shallow rise of her breath were merely a figment of her imagination.
It's not that you have to speak to him. Or even look at him. He has only come to sit next to you. That is normal.
But it was a futile attempt. She kept glancing in his direction, all too aware of him. So much that she had all but forgotten that Richard was there, until he coughed lightly.
Once again, Daphne was focusing her energy on thewrongbrother. Perhaps if Richard was as infuriating as the Duke, she would have an easier time giving him the same attention.
Her gloved hands fidgeted restlessly in her lap, twisting and untwisting the material. She knew she should be listening to the music, focusing on anything other than the man sitting beside her, but it was hopeless.
From the corner of her eye, she could see Ambrose glancing at her, as if he were just as distracted as she was. She bit the inside of her cheek, silently scolding herself for being so obvious and began to fondle the fabric of her glove once again.
Until a firm hand descended upon it, locking her hand in place.
"I beg your pardon?" the words came out as an urgent whisper as she eyes widened in surprise. Looking down, she saw Ambrose's hand covering hers, stopping her nervous fidgeting.
"You must stop that immediately," he leaned over to whisper in her ear, his voice low but laced with annoyance. "You are distracting me."
Her breath caught in her throat, and she quickly turned her head to the side, her eyes widening in surprise. His face was close—far too close.
"I'm distracting you?" she whispered back, her tone incredulous.
"Yes. The fidgeting."
Daphne opened her mouth to retort, but the words seemed to falter on her tongue. Instead, she whispered, "I didn't realize you were paying such close attention."
His hand tightened just slightly on hers, and she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She knew she should pull her hand away, that someone could easily see them, but she couldn't seem to bring herself to move.
And for some reason, neither could he. So they just sat there, hand in hand.
The music played on, but for her, it was nothing more than background noise now. All she could think about was the way his fingers felt against hers. His hands were much larger than her small, delicate ones. But somehow, they seemed to fit each other.
They sat there in silence for a few moments, the tension between them growing thicker with every passing second.
This is wrong,she told herself. And yet, it was as though someone had poured lead over her hands. She could not pull away. Beside her, Richard did not even notice what was going on between the two of them.
He's not very observant,Daphne noted to herself with some disdain. But even so, it should be Richard whom she should be sitting with like this. Richard, the man she was supposed to be courting. But it was Ambrose whose hand she couldn't pull away from, Ambrose who made her heart race in a way that left her utterly confused.
"I wasn't trying to distract you," she whispered back after a long pause, her voice barely audible.
"Somehow, I find that difficult to believe," he breathed, his tone exasperated but there was a hint of amusement in it, too.
Like he could also not understand how he had managed to get into this situation with her.
Daphne shot him a sidelong glance, her irritation bubbling up despite herself. "Well, I wasn't."
His grip only tightened, and a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Youwerefidgeting. If that is something you wish to do in the privacy of your chambers, by all means. But here, there should be some decorum."
Decorum?Daphne should hardly believe her ears. Was he really going to turn this into a lesson on manners?
"Tell me, Your Grace, is holding onto my hand as tightly as you are also considered good decorum?" she shot back, expending the last of her energy into ensuring that her voice does not raise much.
She did not want to draw too much attention on herself, after all .
"It is when it serves a purpose," he shrugged, though Daphne could tell by his expression that her question had challenged him. "And the purpose here was to prevent it from fidgeting. If anything, I am doing everyone here a favor."
