Page 22 of His Runaway Duchess

Oh yes, very well done, Daphne. Just when it seems there’s no other way for you to embarrass yourself, you stoop to a new low.

At least I know he’ll keep quiet about it. He must be just as mortified as I am.

She rose and dressed listlessly, combing out her hair and pinning it up. She was hungry but was not looking forwardto wandering around the house and looking for the breakfast room. At least she could be reasonably sure that she would be breakfasting alone. Who would want to exchange pleasantries with her after the show she’d made of herself the previous night?

The ground level of the house seemed to be deserted and was notably silent. Daphne didn’t believe she’d ever spent such a quiet morning. In their house, it was all chaos and chatter. None of them seemed to be able to bear a moment’s silence. Even Emily, who they thought of as very meek and quiet, was not considered to bereservedby Society’s standards. The Belmont girls were chatterboxes, everybody knew that, and they got the trait from their mother.

The silence, then, was oppressive.

Daphne was just starting to despair of ever finding any breakfast when a man stepped out of a room and closed the door behind him. She recognized the steward from last night and hurried towards him.

“Excuse me, Sir!”

He paused, just about to stride off, and shot her a shrewd look. “Miss Belmont, good morning. I trust you slept well.”

She cleared her throat. “Uh, well enough. Where is the breakfast room? I was promised breakfast before I left. Oh, and what time will the carriage be here for me?”

The steward blinked at her. “Carriage?”

“Yes, His Grace said that he would send me home in one of his carriages.”

There was an odd look on the steward’s face, one that Daphne could not quite interpret. “Ah. I imagine Edward would offer that, yes. Well, breakfast is in here, the room I’ve just left. The table is all set. The Duke and the Dowager Duchess are in there already.”

With that, the steward turned on his heel, shooting her one last curious look, and left her staring after him.

So much for a peaceful breakfast, then.She sighed.Come on, then. No time for cowardice.

Not giving herself a chance to change her mind, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

She was immediately met by raised voices.

“How dare you do this to your name?” came an angry feminine voice. “To yourself? To your child? Tome? Do you not remember the last time you made such an infamous appearance in the scandal sheets?”

Well, it was too late for Daphne to dart out again. She froze in the doorway, taking in the scene.

The breakfast room was not the cavernous space she’d imagined. It wasnota proper breakfast room, but a comfortable, little parlor converted and used as a breakfast room. The space was dominated by a long, well-polished table set with silver dishes, and a fire crackled in the hearth, warding off the chill of the morning.

The Duke of Thornbridge sat sprawled in a chair by the fire, pressing the fingers of one hand against his forehead. In his other hand, he held a crumpled piece of paper.

An older woman stood in front of him, coldly beautiful and immaculately dressed, her arms folded tight. They hadn’t noticed her yet.

Perhaps I could just sneak out again. I won’t die if I miss breakfast.

Alex and Mrs. Trench sat at the table, quietly eating their breakfast.

Alex perked up at the sight of Daphne. “Hello, Miss Belmont!”

Bother. Too late to escape, then.

The Duke and the older woman flinched when Alex spoke, their heads snapping around to look at Daphne.

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she stalked towards Daphne. Daphne felt the urge to cower.

“So, this is the woman, then,” she spat. “You are pretty, but not nearly pretty enough to make up for what you’ve brought upon us.”

“B-Brought upon you?” Daphne stammered. “I don’t understand.”

The woman—the Dowager Duchess, no doubt—sneered. “Oh, I’m sure you understand perfectly. What you’ve brought upon us?—”

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