Daphne shook her head. "I have admitted this only to the both of you. Though.." she paused, "I suspect that Joyce has an inkling. But she has not mentioned it outright to me."
And I hope that she does not.The last thing that Daphne wanted to do was discuss whatcouldhave been.
"What about Richard?" Violet asked. "Does he know anything?"
"He's not made any mention to me," Daphne sighed. "Besides, he said that he will call on me later. I do not think he would be willing to do so if he had any inkling that I had feelings for his brother, instead of him."
"But he must know that you do not have feelings for him," Isadora argued. "Does that not bother him? I know that it bothers you."
"Perhaps the notion of feelings just does not hold much weight for him," Daphne sighed, "Not more than remainingpractical," the words rolled off like acid on her tongue.
Isadora and Violet exchanged sympathetic glances, "And what will you do when he finally proposes?" Isadora asked.
Daphne shrugged her shoulders, and looked out the window. "I suppose there is no use in telling beforehand. I shall know when the moment arrives."
She hoped that it never did.
"Daphne," Isadora started gently, "I have known you all my life, and I trust you to make the right decision for yourself. Whether it is love or a marriage to a respectable man, whatever you choose, I shall support you."
"As will I," Violet said.
The two friends huddled Daphne into a hug, holding her tight. At that moment, Daphne felt grateful for the wonderful friendships she was lucky enough to be surrounded with.
Her love life – and her heart – was in shambles. But for now, even if temporarily, the support of her friends was like a salve to her wounds. And for a moment, she could will herself not to think about the man that she had just left behind.
CHAPTER 23
"Daphne, have you finished getting ready? You must hurry, it is almost noon, and Lord Richard will be arriving any moment."
Joyce called out to her sister from the stairs, who sat in her room, staring idly at her reflection as her lady's maid brushed her hair, and styled it into an elegant bun.
"What do you think, My Lady? Would you prefer a loose curl to the side, or do you wish to keep it all tied like this?" the maid asked.
Daphne shrugged her shoulders, "I give you full control to do whatever you wish."
Which was really just another way of saying,I do not care.
They had received the message that morning, that Lord Richard was going to make his way to the Manor in the afternoon to speak to Daphne about a matter that was ofgreat urgency.
"He will finally propose," Joyce had said once Daphne had conveyed the message to her, and excitedly began preparations. She had even called over her other sisters, and one by one, they had arrived – all of them bursting with excitement that their youngest sibling wasfinallygoing to get engaged.
"Don't be so excited," Daphne had tried to tamp down their emotions – which were running high, "It might not be what you are expecting. He might just want to drop by for a chat."
"Don't be so silly," her sister had replied, "No man justdrops by for a chatto the woman he has been courting like that. Now, get dressed. You must present yourself in the best way to him."
And so, Daphne had been sat this vanity chair ever since. Even her lady's maid seemed chirpier than usual, telling her tales about grand proposals she had heard about. But Daphne was hardly paying attention.
Sheshouldbe excited, of course. It would make sense for her to be. But in the week that she had been back at the Manor from the house party, she had felt like a shell of her former self.
Even waking up in the morning and getting dressed felt like a great chore, and she had kept her nose buried in books in order to distract herself from the turmoil that brewed inside of her heart.
But even that had been a useless endeavor. All the books in her possession were romance, and between their pages she was reminded just how she had felt for the Duke. Whenever the characters expressed their feelings, she would thinkoh but this is what I feel, too.Overwhelmed, she would often end up tossing the book to the side.
It seemed that wherever she went, there was no escaping thoughts of Ambrose. And now that she was meant to meet with Lord Richard, she worried that it would only remind her of him even more.
Still, the fact remained that he was scheduled to visit, and that there was no running from it.
"He's here," a frantic Joyce called from downstairs, causing a ripple effect in her room where the maid frantically begun to make the last minute adjustments to her gown.
