Page 110 of Romancing Daphne

The handwriting was Linus’s. The family received a general missive from him now and again, assuring them he was well and informing them of his activities, though they all suspected he skipped over the more difficult parts of all he experienced. He had never written specifically to her.

Daphne slipped off her half boots and pulled her legs up onto the bed. She leaned back against the soft mountain of pillows and broke the seal on Linus’s letter.

Dearest Daphne,

You know me well enough to realize I am not one for writing letters. I have come to understand, however, that I have done you a disservice in not sharing with you something I ought to have years ago. The memory is difficult, and I have very seldom spoken of it.

I remember well your heartbreak when Evander and I left for sea. Even the ignorance of youth did not hide that fact from me. He took a great deal of ribbing from our shipmates for the multitude of letters he sent you. We never reached a port but he had a missive, often more than one, ready to send home. I wonder sometimes if you realize how much he adored you.

No one in the family ever talked about Evander. Sometimes it felt like he’d never existed.

I miss him. Heavens, I miss him.

She took a shaky breath, so many emotions gripping her. She returned to the letter, pulled to it by some unseen force.

I do not mean to inflict further pain on you, for I care far too much to want to see you hurt. I hope you will understand that I mean only to show you that you were never forgotten. I was with our brother when he passed. He spoke of you, Daphne. Even in those final moments, you were never far from his mind. In the years since, you have often been in my thoughts as well. And I confess myself relieved when I saw that Adam had come to cherish you as Evander did and as I have learned to do.

Such sentiments probably should have been delivered in person, but emotional discussions never come easy for me. Please know that I am sincere, however clumsy I may be at expressing myself.

Yours sincerely,

Linus

She did not know how long she spent rereading the letter, her arms yet wrapped around her pillow. Thoughts of her late brother brought the usual feelings of grief and loss. But something changed as she sat there. A sense of peace began to penetrate the sadness.

All was quiet other than the light rustling of the new draperies. She glanced at the portrait of her mother, then across to her father’s chair, then at the apothecary cabinet. The room could not have felt more tranquil, more perfect.

She knew that somehow James had a hand in all of it. This was the kindhearted and gentle young man she had treasured from the first moment they’d met, the gentleman she had loved through all the heartache and pain of the past few months.

He held her very heart in his hands, and she intended to find the courage to trust him with it.

Chapter Forty

James paced nervously outside thedoor to Daphne’s bedchamber. He knew she had arrived and felt certain she was inside. Did she approve of all he’d done in there? Had he presumed too much? Made a mull of the entire thing?

He’d come upon an embroidered pillow in a shop window in Coventry during his journey from London. The sparrows had made him think of her. He hadn’t intended to do anything beyond leave it in her bedchamber,thinking perhaps it would bring a smile to her face when she arrived.

His first day in Shropshire, he’d slipped into Daphne’s room andstopped dead in his tracks. He’d seen servants’ quarters and tenant houses that surpassed the refinement of her bedchamber. Afraid his work in Shropshire would prove more arduous than he’d been led to expect, James had peeked inside all of the family rooms.

The rest of the house proved unexceptional—elegance mingled with practicality, modernity alongside the traditional. Only Daphne’s private quarters still bore the mark of aching poverty. Why had the room neverbeen refurbished? How could her family have allowed such a thing?

As he’d stood there surveying the badly worn furniture and threadbare linens in her room, he had experienced a moment of pure inspiration. Her brother had insisted she didn’t feel safe or secure or valued. What lady would, living in surroundings so starkly inferior to that of her family members’, a constant reminder of years of struggle?

“Please, don’t let her hate it,” he whispered, hoping the heavens were listening. Divine intervention seemed his only chance of winning Daphne’s heart.“Or if she does hate it, let her not hateme.” He opted to cover all possibilities, lest providence prove mischievous. “And if the bedchamberitself comes up short, at least let the apothecary cabinet meet with her approval.”

He’d gladly sold his watch and diamond stickpin to pay for the cabinet, knowing on sight it would mean the world to his beloved. He only hoped he hadn’t been misled, that it truly was the fortuitous find he thought it was.

The doorknob turned. James attempted to project an air of casualness. How ridiculous he would seem hovering around her door. He watched it open, his nerves on edge.

The sight of his Daphne after two weeks’ separation fairly stole his breath.Her quiet beauty might escape the notice of Society, its fascination set on allthings gaudy and loud, but he could not imagine any lady’s loveliness strikinghim with greater force.

His appearance seemed to cause more surprise for her than anything else.“James.”

Questions flitted through her eyes, though she did not speak any ofthem aloud. If she were too shy to ask about the room outright and helacked the gumption to broach the subject himself, they might very well remain in the corridor indefinitely, discussing inane topics and fretting uncomfortably.

He simply needed to draw himself up, quit acting like a child yet in leading strings, and jump in.“Daphne—”

His words ended abruptly just as her head snapped in the direction of a hacking, rasping cough. James had come to know that sound well during his short time in Shropshire.

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