Joyce gave her a skeptical look, "That's all? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Daphne tried to laugh it off, albeit unconvincingly. "No, it's nothing. Really."
But Joyce's eyes narrowed slightly, "Daphne," she said softly, "is there something you want to admit to me?"
"No, there is not," Daphne answered with a little too much force than the question warranted.
Joyce stepped closer, her expression softening. "You can tell me, you know. I won't judge you. Have you... changed your mind since coming here?"
"No," she said quietly, though it was a lie. "No, nothing has changed."
Joyce searched Daphne's face for something more. "Are you certain?"
"I'm sure," she said, "We should probably start getting ready for dinner. It is almost time."
Joyce did not press further. "Let us go then."
Daphne was about to turn and walk with her sister, but then stopped in her tracks. "One more thing, have.... have you seen Ambrose?"
Joyce gave her a knowing smile, raising an eyebrow. "No, I haven't."
CHAPTER 20
Ambrose sat up in his bed chambers at the crack of down.
He hadn't slept a single moment that night. How could he after...
Their kiss.
The thought of it had all but consumed him. Every time he tried to push it away, it came back with full force—the softness of her lips, the way her body had instinctively leaned into his.
The kiss had been burned into his memory. But it wasn't just the kiss itself that haunted him, but the implications of it. This wasn't just any woman. This was Daphne. The woman who, if things progressed as planned, would marry his brother.
And that thought alone felt like a knife twisting in his chest.
He had to leave.
So at the crack of dawn, Ambrose dressed himself in haste and made his way out of his room. His mind was made up. He would leave for a few days, clear his head. Maybe after some time away, he could return and things would be back to normal. Maybe, after some distance, he could forget about Daphne and move on. He had to. There was no other choice.
The estate was still asleep as he moved quietly through the halls. He wasn't sure where he would go yet, but anywhere was better than here.
But as he reached the hallway, something made him stop.
Daphne's room.
His hand hesitated mid-air as his gaze drifted toward the staircase, toward the wing of the house where Daphne was undoubtedly still asleep. Her door was somewhere down there, closed, maybe even locked. He wouldn't dare knock, wouldn't dare approach. But still, the temptation lingered.
What would happen if I stayed?The thought crossed his mind unbidden.
But Ambrose knew better. He knew that staying would only make things worse. He couldn't trust himself around her anymore, and the thought of seeing her—seeing her withRichard—was more than he could bear. He couldn't put himself through that.
With a final, conflicted glance toward the upstairs corridor, Ambrose turned on his heel and made his way downstairs, out the door and then towards the stables.
And then, without another word, he urged his horse forward, galloping away from the Estate and from the woman he couldn't get out of his mind.
Whatever he was feeling for Daphne, whatever this connection was—it had toend.
For both their sakes.
