Ambrose's jaw tightened. He did not know how to process all this new information that Richard was giving him. All this time, he had burned with jealousy at the thought of Daphne and his brother falling in love. But far from love, Richard only considered her to be "enough".
Even if Ambrose did not have such a complicated history with Daphne, he would understand her reasoning to decline after hearing Richard speak now. For she was not merely justenough– she was so much more than that.
"In any case," Richard continued with a sigh, "It seems that marriage with her is not on the cards for me after all. You should be quite pleased with this development, I would imagine."
Ambrose was. But not for the reasons his brother thought. "Was Lady Daphne..." he mulled over his words, not wanting to sound too curious in front of his brother, "happy with her decision?"
"I would think so," Richard snorted. "I will say that she did manage to bury a seed in my head — she seems to give great importance to marrying for love. And I... well, I have never given the thought much consideration until now."
"And what have you concluded?"
Richard took another sip from his glass, while Ambrose' remained largely forgotten on the table in front of him. "I believe she has a point, you know. About the whole marrying for love thing. Why spend a life with someoneunlessyou adore them to bits?"
"I'm sure Mother will be pleased to hear that," Ambrose commented. The Dowager had a love match and often encouraged her children to do the same for themselves.
"Surprisingly, she was not upset at all," Richard remarked. "She was the first person I told about the rejection, and she said that it is for the best."
That surprised Ambrose. His mother liked Daphne.
"As for me," Richard shrugged, "It's back to the beginning. Though, I'll try and pick a bride this time for the right reasons."
Which was just another way of saying that he wouldnottry to spite Ambrose with his choices.
"I apologize for pushing you to act like that," Ambrose sighed. His meddling had got them all into this mess, to begin with. "From now on, I'll support you in whoever you choose for yourself."
Richard passed his brother a knowing look, "Really? Even if she's not up to your standards?"
"I am not above admitting that I can be wrong sometimes," Ambrose replied. He certainly had been wrong about Daphne.
"Never thought I'd heard you say those words out loud," Richard laughed. He seemed noticeably lighter than when he first came in.
Ambrose did not reply, but his brother was right. Only a few months ago, he could not have imagined him saying the words either. He had changed after all. He just wished the lesson hadn't come at the cost of a broken heart.
"Well," Richard slapped his knees and got up, "I shall make my leave. I think I've told you enough about my troubles. But I have some hope for the future."
Ambrose nodded, looking forward to the chance of being left alone. There was much to process.
"Do you mind?" Richard gestured over to the bottle of whiskey, which was still more than half full. "Something to help me sleep."
"Please," Ambrose nodded. He didn't feel like drinking anymore – suddenly the dull ache inside him had lessened, but not completely gone. It had transformed into something else entirely.
Regret, perhaps. Before, he thought that he was letting go of Daphne so that she could pursue a better future with someone he trusted, like his brother. But now that she had rejected his proposal, she was a maiden without prospects again. One that would inevitably catch the eye of some other gentleman, sooner or later.
The thought alone made him fraught with jealousy.
"Good night, Ambrose," Richard slithered away to the door, but stopped before he left completely, "Mother, what are you doing still awake? We were just talking about you, actually."
"Richard," the Dowager nodded and then stepped inside. "Ambrose."
"I believe I'll call it a night," Richard muttered a hasty goodbye to his mother, and as the door closed behind him, Ambrose wasleft alone in his study with a very observant Dowager, who came and sat across him.
"How have you been?" she asked in a soft voice. "You have not emerged out of this room for days now, not even to show your face for meal times."
"I have been busy, Mother," he replied. "It slipped my mind."
The Dowager did not seem convinced by his answers. She knew him too well, after all.
"Are you certain it was that?" she replied, "Or was it because your mind was wholly occupied by something – or rather, someone – else entirely?"
