Page 85 of His Runaway Duchess

There was a small silence.

Daphne pulled out a duckling-yellow gown. It wasn’t her favorite color by any stretch of the imagination, but it was easy to put on. She didn’t care about what she wore. Why should she?

“You didn’t always think that way,” Emily said, her voice small. “What changed?”

Daphne straightened up with a sigh. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It just crept up on me. I wanthim, Emmie. I want a family, a proper life. And his little boy, Alex…” she trailed off, wishing she hadn’t brought him up. A lump formed in her throat. “He likes me. I wanted to be a proper mother to him. Instead, I just packed up and ran away when things becamedifficult. Oh, Emily, do you think I should go back? Do you think I am in love with him? And if I am, what am I todo?”

Emily climbed off the bed and crossed the room to stand beside her sister. “I think that you need time to clear your head,” she answered severely. “I think that you don’t have to make any decisions just yet.”

“I can’t seem to think. My head is packed with wool, and I can’tthink.”

“One step at a time,” Emily insisted. “Now, I’ll help you dress. Once you’re dressed and washed, you’ll feel better. Then, we’ll go down and have breakfast, and once you’ve eaten, you’ll feel even better. And then we’ll sit together and talk about things. Then, you can decide. Then, you canthink, and no matter what you want to do, Daffie, you know that we’re here for you. That we’ll support you.”

Daphne drew in a deep breath. Misery still hung heavy in her chest, like a weight pulling her down. But Emily was right.

I can’t lie in bed all day, feeling sorry for myself.

“Very well,” she heard herself say. “We’ll do that.”

On cue, carriage wheels began to rumble up the drive. Emily crossed to the window and peered out. She winced.

“Uh-oh. Better get started quickly, then. Anna is here.”

Edward felt the sting of bile in his throat. The whiskey sloshed in his empty stomach. He swallowed hard, trying to calm himself.

“Clarissa, put down the letter opener. It’s sharp. You might cut someone, or yourself.”

Clarissa stared at him for a long moment, then down at the letter opener, as if surprised to see it in her hand. She turned the handle over and over in her palm but did not drop the blade. Edward considered briefly whether he should step forward and wrench it from her. He quickly dismissed the idea.

She swallowed thickly, squeezing her eyes shut. “It wasn’t meant to happen. It was never meant to happen.”

“What wasn’t meant to happen? Clarissa, you must tell me.Pleasetell me,” he added, hating the plea in his voice.

The sense of unease had unfolded into fully-fledged dread, hammering at the back of his skull like a headache.

What have you done, Clarissa?

“I’ll tell you,” Clarissa whispered. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t. It was the day you were born. Or the night, rather. There was a terrible storm, the worst we had in years, and your father couldn’t get home in time for the birth.”

Rain hammered against the window, making the glass rattle in its frame. Clarissa suppressed a shiver. The house was so big and drafty, with chilly winds racing across the floors and biting their ankles.

If I were the Duchess,Clarissa thought, with an all-too-familiar flare of bitterness, I’d have done something about how cold this place is.

The rain had flooded the road, and nobody could get to or out of the house. The midwives had arrived, though, sturdier and more determined than the doctor. Clarissa imagined that the Duke of Thornbridge was coming, too, his earlier letters having arrived mud-splattered and damp.

He was too late, though.

On cue, a wail filled the air, coming from a cot placed beside the wide bed. Amongst the disarranged sheets, a shape stirred.

The Duchess of Thornbridge sat up, wincing. “He’s crying, Clarissa. Do you think he’s hungry?”

“Perhaps. I will look at him. Shall I go and fetch the midwives?”

The Duchess shook her head, leaning over to dangle a hand into the crib. “No, let them rest. They’ve worked hard to bring little Edward into the world, and I’m quite all right without them. The birth was awful, but I feel better already. They said I wasbuilt for it, you know.” She paused, chuckling. “Do you think that is a compliment or an insult?”

It was the kind of jokes they used to share when they were younger, pretty creatures coming out for the first time, arm in arm and full of mischief. Before the world got between them.

Or, more accurately, the Duke of Thornbridge.

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