Richard shrugged. "She's more capable than you give her credit for."
"And yet, you didn't even notice when she wasn't there anymore," Ambrose shot back. "If this is how you intend to show your ‘closeness' to her, then I'd advise you to keep a better eye on her."
The tension between the two brothers crackled in the air. It was not often that they argued — especially never over a woman.And if they rarely ever did, Ambrose was never the aggressor, as he had been in this instance. The younger brother shifted uncomfortably, not used to being on the receiving end of such scrutiny.
Ambrose stood abruptly, straightening his coat. "Excuse me," he said curtly, not waiting for Richard's response. He needed to get out of there. He did not know what was going on with him but he was out of sorts.
For the rest of the day, Ambrose busied himself with tasks that required his undivided attention, or so he tried to convince himself. He made sure to avoid any situation where he might cross paths with Daphne, though the thought of her lingered incessantly in the corners of his mind.
Even now that the day had ended, he found himself in his study instead of his chambers – pacing the length of the room in order to occupy his mind.
It felt like he was engaged in a ceaseless tug of war with his own self, and it was beginning to wear him out. For instance, he had reacted so unlike himself with Richard, letting his irritation show so blatantly. That was not the composure expected of a duke.
And then, there was the moment with Daphne... He had held her hand. Willingly.
The memory made him pause mid-step, his eyes narrowing as if he could stare the thought out of existence. It was a risky move,especially for someone of his stature, and yet, when it came to her, he seemed willing to take such risks. What madness had taken hold of him?
Whatever was going on with Daphne in his mind felt like an ailment, something that had no business existing. The only cure he could think of was distance—he needed space, time away from her to regain control of himself.
Earlier, he had even considered sabotaging her chances of marrying into his family, of aligning herself with Richard, but now... Now he wasn't sure he had it in him. Being around her was making him act like someone he did not recognize.
"You are thinking of her again," he chided himself. Like you would a child with a slap on the wrist. He needed more of a distraction – something that would make him stop thinking of her entirely for the remainder of the night.
A book.
Yes, that was it. He could find solace in a good book, he decided. His library would offer him the quiet he needed.
Ambrose strode out of the study, making his way down the hall to the vast room that housed his private collection. Of all the rooms in this Estate, his library was his favorite one.
And it wasonlyfor him to enter. That was why he felt startled when he saw a faint light seep from under the door.Someonewas in there, trespassing.
Was it a servant? Unlikely. They knew better than to intrude in the library after dark.
He quietly pushed open the door, the hinges barely making a sound.
As Ambrose walked into the library, his suspicion was confirmed. Therewassomeone in there. A figure moved behind one of the towering shelves.
A thief?
Who else would be sneaking around at this hour? His jaw tightened as anger bubbled up within him, and without hesitation, he strode over, ready to confront whoever had the nerve to break into his sanctuary.
"What on earth do you think you're—" he started loudly, ready to give the intruder a piece of his mind.
But then, as the figure stepped into the dim light, he stopped short. His eyes widened in disbelief as recognition dawned.
It was Daphne.
They both froze, caught in the sudden tension that filled the room. Ambrose's heart pounded in his chest as his initial anger gave way to something else—something he couldn't quite place. He noticed how startled she looked, fearful at having been caught at this hour. But there was something else, too, something that made his breath catch for a moment—she looked... pretty. No, more than pretty.
The thought hit him like a strike of lightning, and he immediately shoved it away.
"What are you doing here?" His voice came out harsher than he intended, taking a step back.
It felt like the world was playing some kind of a cruel joke on him. He had sought out the library as a refuge from her, but ended up running into her.
"I..." she steadied herself, the initial shock of being discovered slowly wearing off. She gestured at the books. "What do you think I might be doing, Your Grace? I simply came here to read, as I could not sleep."
"Toread?" Ambrose snapped. "At this hour?"
