Romancing Daphne Read online

James smiled at the teasing remark. He noticed Ben did as well. For a man who had been quite firmly set against Miss Lancaster, Ben had grown noticeably friendlier to her. Somehow the timid Miss Lancaster was making friends. His first conversation about her with Father as well as his earliest interactions with her had very nearly convinced him she needed to be guided through Society with kid gloves. He was pleased to be wrong.

  He pulled Ben a bit away. “Will you sit with Mother a moment?”

  Ben nodded his agreement but only after a backward glance in Miss Lancaster’s direction. Why did he have such a sudden interest in the young lady?

  “What were you and Miss Lancaster speaking of?” James asked.

  “Agriculture.”

  Agriculture? “I thought you a better conversationalist than that. I no longer wonder at how very unattached you are.”

  “She initiated the discussion,” Ben said. “She asked how far distant my estate was, and when I told her I lived in northeastern Lancashire, she surmised that I likely raise sheep.”

  A very insightful conclusion, to be sure.

  “We were discussing the benefits of raising sheep for wool versus meat.”

  “And does that not strike you as an odd topic of conversation with a young lady at a high-society soiree?”

  Ben didn’t seem the least put off the topic. “She said her brother-in-law turned around his estate, which had been in a state of ruin for decades, in only six years, and his primary commodity is sheep.”

  James could see the interest in his brother’s eyes. Ben had been attempting to turn a profit at his estate but had done so with very little direction and absolutely no experience. He felt his own heart thud a bit with hopeful anticipation. “And Miss Lancaster said her brother-in-law found success with sheep?”

  Ben nodded, a distant expression on his face. “I wish I knew Mr. Windover. I would write and ask him precisely what he did.”

  James did not know the gentleman either. How frustrating to be so close to a means of assisting his brother and yet be entirely unable to do so.

  “I will sit with Mother, as you requested,” Ben said, a warning in his tone. “You, brother, have a crisis to avert.” He motioned subtly with a nod of his head just over James’s shoulder.

  James looked back and watched in growing alarm as his father approached the formidable Duke of Kielder. That would not end well. He moved as swiftly as decorum would allow, reaching the duke just as his father did.

  “Well met, Kielder,” Father greeted quite as if they were old chums.

  Several other guests turned, shocked. Worried expressions landed on the two of them. His Grace eyed Father much as one would a small child wiping his sweets-stained hands all over one’s best pair of breeches.

  James recognized the faux pax, even if Father didn’t. “You assume a great deal in your casual greeting, sir,” James said under his breath. He didn’t wish to publicly scold his sire but couldn’t help feeling the situation would only grow worse if he didn’t do something.

  “Nonsense, my boy. Two evenings spent with our families in company with one another has made the two of us friends.”

  Oh, good heavens. Several nearby guests were openly staring.

  “I do not have friends,” the duke said calmly. “Those who believe otherwise are delusional.” He shot a glare at those eavesdropping on the uncomfortable encounter, sending every last one of them scurrying away, excepting James and his father.

  “I understand,” Father said, giving the duke a conspiratorial look. “You wish to keep the connection between our families something of a secret until things are more settled. You needn’t worry on that account. I’ll not make anything public until the boy, here, comes up to scratch. And he will. I can promise you that, Your Grace.”

  If it were possible to die of horrified embarrassment, James would have in that moment.

  The duke’s gaze was captured by something a bit off to the side. “It seems I have an annoyance to deal with.” His eyes darted to Father. “Another one. You”—he skewered Father with a look—“stay here. And you”—his gaze moved to James—“walk with me.”

  One did not ignore a dictate from the Dastardly Duke. One also did not annoy him with impunity. Once again James was left to protect his family from the stupidity of his father. He walked beside the duke, growing ever more unnerved as he watched the gathered attendees part at his approach with expressions bordering on terrified.

  “I am sorry for my father’s presumptuousness,” he said. “He is—”

  “I know full well what your father is.” Clearly the duke didn’t consider the acquaintance a pleasant one. “You are the one I am still attempting to sort out.”

  James’s liver shouted out for help in that moment, the duke’s well-remembered promise about eating that vital organ still fresh in James’s mind.

  A small cluster of guests didn’t move out of the duke’s path as quickly as the others. His Grace eyed them only a fraction of a moment, long enough for his message to be clear. They scurried away with the speed of birds on the wind.

  “How are you at fisticuffs?” the duke asked.

  After a momentary sputter, James managed a reply. “I’ve never bested Gentleman Jackson. I have never come close, truth be told, though he says I’ve improved a great deal over the past few years.”

  “An honest answer. How refreshing.”

  It was perhaps the most honest thing he’d said to any member of the duke’s family over the past fortnight. “Are my abysmal skills in that arena about to be called upon?”

  “Most gentlemen would have posed that question in terrified tones rather than merely curious ones,” the duke said.

  “I am acting under the assumption that if you intended to beat me to a mangled pulp,” James said, “you would simply do so without taking the time to warn me first.” That seemed more the duke’s style.

  His Grace made a brief sound of pondering. “That is a far more intelligent observation than most gentlemen ever manage. I find, despite all of my expectations to the contrary, you are not entirely unbearable.” They had reached the far side of the drawing room. The duke motioned ahead of them. “Mr. Finley has been monopolizing my sister-in-law’s attention for a full five minutes, something she doesn’t appear to appreciate. I suggest we dispatch him with all due haste.”

  “And you wish me to employ my pathetic boxing skills?”

  “Would you if I asked?”

  Knowing the duke preferred an honest answer, James gave him one. “I cannot like the thought of anyone being permitted to disconcert Miss Lancaster. What I know of her tells me she is worthy of far better treatment. Though I am not in a position to take up her cause, I will certainly aid you in doing so, though a bout with my fists is more likely to break my nose than save the day.”

  The duke nodded in what might have been hesitant approval. “Then, Tilburn, let me show you how it is done.”

  He approached Mr. Finley from behind, slowly, silently.

  “My cronies and I have heard sums exceeding £35,000,” Mr. Finley was saying to Miss Lancaster. “Your brother-in-law has all of London terrified to so much as speak to you and yet, if rumor is to be believed, wishes to have you married off by Season’s end, necessitating an increase in your dowry. If such is true, I should very much like to know. Any number of us would make a go of it for that amount of money.”

  What a pompous, insufferable jackanapes. To say such a thing to a young lady was absolutely unforgivable.

  “If another rumor is to be believed,” His Grace spoke to Mr. Finley with a chilling degree of calm, “I am capable of killing you in six different ways from my current position.”

  Mr. Finley turned around slowly, his eyes wide with terror.

  “Would you care to test the veracity of that bit of gossip?” the duke asked.

  Mr. Finley shook his he
ad vehemently.

  “Then know this: should you ever speak to Miss Lancaster again, I will see to it you are very personally acquainted with the reasons why all of London is afraid to address her without my express approval.”

  Though the threats were not leveled at him, James acutely felt their ferocity. Looking around at the pale faces in the crowd, he knew he was not the only one. Mr. Finley literally ran from the room, something James didn’t think he’d ever seen happen at a soiree. The rest of the gathering gave the duke, James, and Miss Lancaster a very wide berth.

  “Daphne.” The duke motioned her to his side.

  James did not at all like the redness that had crept in about her eyes. The poor lady looked on the verge of tears.

  “You know the rules,” His Grace said.

  She nodded. “No crying,” she whispered.

  James was worried anew for her. Mr. Finley had treated her quite poorly. If she felt the need to cry, she ought to be permitted that release.

  “Now, Tilburn, here is where you come in.” His Grace never spoke with anything less than absolute confidence. “Take Daphne for a turn about the room, several if necessary. And do not under any circumstances allow her to be annoyed by any of the guests until she has recovered sufficiently to be equal to enduring them.”

  “It would be my pleasure, Your Grace.” James would even shield her from the duke himself if need be. “Shall we, Miss Lancaster?” He held his arm out to her. She accepted it without so much as glancing up at him and allowed herself to be led away.

  “I see your mother is well enough to join us this afternoon, Lord Tilburn,” she said after they had wandered a bit. “I hope she is recovered from her illness of a few evenings ago.”

  “She is much improved, thank you,” James answered.

  “That must be relieving.” Miss Lancaster’s blush heightened as she spoke. Her witty conversation of two evenings before seemed to have deserted her, owing, no doubt, to the added company of a great many people. He needed to remember she was timid and would likely benefit from quieter attentions and conversation.

  “I had been told this evening’s gathering was meant to welcome your brother home,” he said. “I have not yet spied anyone in a navy uniform. Is he in civilian dress this evening?”

  “Linus’s ship has not yet made port. It seems they hit a patch of bad weather and are behind schedule.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.” They continued their slow circuit of the room. “I know you were looking forward to seeing him again.”

  “Adam has promised Persephone that he will commandeer a ship himself and go fetch Linus from the middle of the ocean if need be.” The smallest hint of a smile returned to Miss Lancaster’s expression. “She has always been like a mother to all of us. She worries terribly when any of us are away.”

  “Your description casts me in the role of mother to my family,” he said. “I worry about them when I am away.”

  Miss Lancaster turned her attention to the small reticule hanging from her wrist. She pulled a slip of paper out. “I’ve written down recipes for three different tisanes that are very soothing on a sore throat.” She held the paper out to him. “If Lady Techney is still feeling a little unwell, she might find any one of these helpful.”

  James took the paper, grateful for her thoughtfulness. “The tonic you provided to Cook the night of the dinner has proven exceptionally helpful. I do not believe Mother has slept so well in years.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, James saw the duchess watching them with concerned curiosity. From the other side of the room, Ben and Mother did the same. Father stood beneath the tall windows looking utterly pleased with himself. James didn’t dare search out the duke’s expression.

  “I realize my brother-in-law is very demanding,” Miss Lancaster said after the silence between them had stretched out. “You needn’t continue walking about with me if you would rather not.”

  The cowardly part of him was tempted to accept her offered escape. But Mr. Finley’s unkindness sat too fresh in his mind. He would not treat her ill as well. “I have had the misfortune of knowing Mr. Finley for several years.”

  “Have you?” she asked quietly.

  “He has always been something of a lackwit.”

  That brought a touch of a smile back to her pale face. “I know I shouldn’t allow his comments to wound me, but there is something so belittling about knowing people talk about me that way, as though I were so burdensome and worthless that Adam had to raise extra funds just to rid himself of me.”

  He set his hand atop hers, where it rested on his arm. “No one cares to be treated like a commodity, worthless or otherwise.”

  “Does your family treat you that way?” she asked.

  “My father certainly does.” He was making confessions to Miss Lancaster he hadn’t to anyone else. Even with her reticence and his discomfort over their situation, he found her an easy person to talk with. “I am the heir, you must understand. He feels the future of our entire family depends on me toeing the line and doing as he commands.”

  “That belief is not an uncommon one,” she said. “It has been instilled in the aristocracy for generations. My grandfather was a baron who was raised by a baron who was raised by a baron.” She moved her hand in circles, indicating the pattern continued on beyond even those generations. “Persephone heard Grandfather’s lecture on the topic of family name and pride anytime she suggested she should find employment to support our family.”

  Father would have apoplexy if James ever hinted at taking a position for pay. “My grandfather was the first Earl of Techney. My relations needed only one generation to become insufferably obsessed with family pride.”

  Far from being shocked or dismissive, Miss Lancaster simply nodded her understanding. “Perhaps your grandfather feared being rejected as an upstart, so he clung ever more fiercely to those dictates.”

  James hadn’t ever thought of it in those terms. Perhaps Father’s father had been just as persistent and unfeeling on these matters as Father was. He could almost feel sorry for the young man Father had once been.

  “Are you suggesting I ought to be patient with my father?” He made certain his tone held no censure, as he meant the comment as a self-recrimination and not a scold.

  “I suppose I am simply accustomed to looking for reasons why people do the things they do. It helps me think better of them.”

  “Are you this forbearing with your brother-in-law?” He was likely a difficult person to think the best of.

  “Adam is not a bad person. He is simply very accustomed to being obeyed.” She spoke of the fearsome duke with a very real fondness in her voice and a smile in her eyes.

  What kind of a young lady must she be to see good even in a man whose well-earned reputation set the entire kingdom to trembling?

  “Your mother appears ill at ease,” she said.

  “She grows anxious over social gatherings,” he explained. “I suppose she has been away from Society too long.” While the explanation was not a full one, it was honest as far as it went. Telling her all of his mother’s insecurities felt too much like a betrayal. The duchess had just taken a seat beside Mother. “Your sister is kind to sit by her, even if only for a moment.”

  “She need not fear ill-treatment whilst she is a guest of the Duchess of Kielder.”

  James watched from a distance as the two ladies interacted. Her Grace said something. Mother nodded. Another comment from the duchess brought a look of palpable relief to Mother’s face. A moment later, Mother was the one speaking. She still appeared uncomfortable, but the borderline panic that had been there upon their arrival at Falstone House had eased.

  “Would your mother be overset if we paused a moment to speak with her?” Miss Lancaster, though timid herself, intended to help alleviate his mother’s worries.

  “I believe she would appreciat
e that,” he said.

  There was a generosity in Miss Lancaster that could not be denied. And better still, this was the first conversation he’d had with anyone in years in which nothing was demanded of him and nothing required. He could easily grow very accustomed to that.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Daphne stepped inside Persephone’s sitting room late in the morning a week after the gathering at Falstone House. During that time, James had come for an obligatory morning call and had spoken to her only briefly at the two social engagements they’d both attended. His interest seemed to have quickly waned, and Daphne was growing worried.

  Artemis lounged on the window seat. She leaned her head against the glass, gazing out over the street below. “I do not understand why I am not permitted to go anywhere.” She managed to sound as though she were being terribly ill-treated.

  Did the girl never have a drama-free moment?

  “You go any number of places,” Persephone answered from her seat nearer the empty fireplace. She didn’t look up from her stitching.

  “But not to a ball. You are all going tonight without me, and it is horridly unfair.”

  Daphne remained near the door. Neither of her sisters had seen her yet.

  “When you are old enough for your come-out, we will run you every bit as ragged as you please.”

  With a sigh, Artemis seemed to resign herself. Now was the time for Daphne to speak up.

  “May I speak with you a moment, Persephone?” she asked.

  “Of course.” Persephone motioned her over. “What is on your mind?”

  I cannot believe I am doing this. “I want to try doing something different with my appearance. I am not certain just what, but something more . . . pretty.”

  Persephone didn’t laugh as Daphne had worried she might.

  Artemis spun so fast on her cushion that Daphne half expected her to tumble to the floor. In a flurry of fabric, the girl rushed to her side, hands waving in unfettered excitement. “I knew it! I just knew you’d blend into the walls. I was so very, very certain of it.”