"Richard is a fine man," the Dowager continued, her voice softening. "But I must admit, it's Ambrose who often worries me."
Daphne's heart skipped a beat at the sudden mention of Ambrose's name.
"His Grace?"
"Yes," the Dowager said, a fond smile crossing her face. "Ambrose has always been the more complicated one. Richard is straightforward, easy to understand. But Ambrose... well, he's always been different."
Never did Daphne imagine that she would be here with the Dowager discussing the Duke. But now that they had begun, Daphne could not help her curiosity.
"I have noticed that he has a particular way of doing things," she said. "Different, as you say."
The Dowager nodded."Even as a boy, he took on more responsibility than anyone should at his age. After his father passed, it was like the weight of the entire world fell on his shoulders."
"You mean... he had to raise Richard? But they are not too far apart in age, are they?"
"In many ways, yes," she replied. Was that a flicker of regret Daphne noticed in her voice? "After my husband passed, I wasn't... I wasn't in the right frame of mind to take care of things. Ambrose stepped into the role of the Duke, but he also became a sort of father figure to his younger brother. I leaned on him far more than I should have. He never complained, never showed weakness. But I know it must have been difficult for him."
Daphne felt a pang in her chest as she imagined a young Ambrose, burdened with responsibilities far beyond his years. "That must have been very hard for him," she said softly.
"Oh, it was," the Dowager nodded, "He would never admit to anyone, however. That is just how he does things."
Daphne knew exactly what the Dowager was talking about. It was something that she herself had noticed as they had gotten to know each other more. Many people made it a point to mention all the kind things that they do. But Ambrose was the opposite – he hid his good deeds. And he was an expert at concealing his true feelings.
"He's always been strong—stronger than anyone realizes. But that strength came at a cost. He's closed off now, difficult to reach," the Dowager admitted, melancholic.
"Do you believe that will ever change?" Daphne asked, despite herself. If anyone knew him, it was his mother. She could not pass up the opportunity to know more. Heaven knows that she might never get the opportunity to do so with the Duke himself.
"As his mother, I am hopeful, but I also must remain pragmatic," the Dowager admitted, "I've tried to encourage him to marry, but he refuses. He says it's not for him."
Daphne's heart raced at the mention of marriage. Marriage tosomeone else.
She forced herself to keep her expression neutral, but the words felt like a sharp sting. "Why do you think that is?" she asked, though she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.
"Perhaps he's waiting for someone who can challenge him. Someone who isn't afraid to stand up to him, to push back when needed. Someone who can see past the title and the estate and truly understand the man behind it all."
Daphne felt her breath catch in her throat. Her heart pounded, and her fears from earlier returned to her. Had she seen something between her and Ambrose? Had she sensed the tension between them? Did she know about the kiss?
Trying to compose herself, Daphne looked down to her feet.
"I... I wouldn't know," she mumbled, "but I wish the best for him. As Richard's older brother."
It pained her to say that last part, but she knew that she must. Otherwise, the Dowager would rightfully assume her curiosity as interest in her older son.
The Dowager did not respond immediately. Instead, she watched Daphne closely for a moment.
"Not that I'm saying you should be concerned with Ambrose, of course," she spoke finally. "You and Richard seem well-suited, after all. I have no doubt he will make you a fine husband."
Daphne's stomach twisted at the words. Why did they feel rhetorical?
"Your Grace," Daphne began, her voice wavering despite her best efforts to remain composed, "I– I believe that my sister might be looking for me."
The Dowager raised an eyebrow at the sudden shift in tone but didn't press her. "Of course, my dear. It's been lovely speaking with you."
Daphne nodded, her heart pounding as she quickly made her way toward the door. As soon as she left the room, Daphne's steps quickened, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
Once back inside the hall, she nearly collided with Joyce, who had been coming from the opposite direction. "Daphne! I was just about to come find you," Joyce said, a hint of concern in her voice as she looked at her sister's pale face. "What's wrong? What did the Dowager want with you?"
"Oh... nothing," she said quickly, waving her hand dismissively. "She just wanted to speak about Richard."
