Page 77 of Romancing Daphne

“How does your father feel about your decision?” The duke’s tone had grown less mocking.

“My father’s opinions no longer matter to me.”

“Your father’s opinions have never mattered to anyone of sense,” theduke said.“You’re not likely to secure many comforts on a secretary’s salary.”The duke’s warning sounded decidedly halfhearted, as though he felt obligated to say something but would rather have seen James suffer unsuspectingly.

“If poverty is the price of integrity,” James said,“I am willing to pay it.”

“A very pretty speech.” The lieutenant could hardly have looked less sincere.“What are your current intentions in regard to Daphne?”

Did his intentions really matter? It wasn’t as though he had any options.“I do not mean to impose upon her. I only wished to make certain she wasnot blamed for this.”

The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed.“Then you had nothing to gain personally by coming here?”

They both studied him. The duke had not set down his dagger, and the lieutenant’s hand continued to rest on his scabbard.

The duke broke the heavy silence.“None of us blames Daphne for your stupidity.”

“Then she is well?” he asked, feeling his tension lessen.

The reassurance he expected did not come.

“Sheiswell, isn’t she?”

They offered no confirmation. Every ounce of anxiety returned. Something was wrong with Daphne.

“Is she ill? Has something happened?”

“We will look after Daphne,” the duke said. He gestured with his dagger to the door.“Off with you.”

Lieutenant Lancaster moved to James’s side, obviously intent on seeing that he complied with the duke’s dismissal.

James sidestepped him.“What is wrong with Daphne?” Panic surged through him. What had happened to her? Was she injured?

“You do not have the right to use her Christian name, Lord Tilburn,” the lieutenant said, taking him firmly by the arm.

“What’s happened? Please—”

A hard shove forced him to stumble to the doorway.

“Consider yourself fortunate that neither the duke nor I acted upon our first impulse to simply shoot you on sight.” The lieutenant handed him over to a waiting footman.“Scurry off, Lord Tilburn. And forget you ever heard of Daphne Lancaster.”

The book room doors snapped shut as the footman, joined by the starchy butler, escorted him down the corridor and out of the house.

“Please,” he pled with the servants. “I only need to know that Miss Lancaster is well. Please.”

The front door closed firmly. He stood there facing it, worry filling every part of him.

“Please,” he continued pleading, though he stood there alone. “I need to know she is well. I need to.”

No one answered because no one was listening.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Daphne was doing her bestto live her life as though nothing devastating had happened. She did not insist upon taking her meals on a tray in her room, neither did she seclude herself and refuse the company of her family.If she could pretend a degree of normalcy, eventually she might feel it.

She stepped into Adam’s book room at the usual hour for their afternoon appointment a mere four days after the disastrous picnic. He hadbeen occupied at Lords the previous two days, but he was home today.

Over the past six years, these near-daily meetings had served as a healing balm. Adam had shown her personal, tender regard at times when she’d desperately needed it. Now, with her heart fractured and her soul heavy, she needed his loving kindness more than ever.

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