Page 88 of Romancing Daphne

“Dinner?”

“You do eat, do you not?”

“I do.” What was the duke getting at?

“You’ll be taking your evening meal here tonight.” His Grace pushed open the doors.

James took several quick steps in order to catch up with his apparent host for the evening.“I doubt I will be welcomed by the rest of your family. They were hardly happy to see me this evening whilst waiting for your return.”

“That is also not required.” His Grace motioned James into the drawing room.“If they wish to carve you alongside the braised beef, so be it. But ifyour presence here will help Daphne come back to us, then it is worth trying.”

“I will do whatever I can,” he promised. “I hate seeing her so withdrawn.”

“In case you are wondering,” the duke said,“you will be permittedto speak to her, look at her, be in the same room as she, but”—His Grace moved closer, eyes boring into James’s, his expression growing more ominous—“under no circumstances will you be permitted to touch her. One finger, Tilburn—you lay one finger on her, and I will break that finger and all its companions one at a time with a hot fire poker.”

“AndIwill drop you in the Thames with an anchor tied to your neck,” the lieutenant added.

“I understand.” James accepted the limits placed on him. He hadn’t expected to be permitted anything.

The Lancaster sisters were all in the sitting room when James and his would-be torturers stepped inside.

“Is Lord Tilburn staying for dinner?” Her Grace asked, clearly not too pleased by the prospect. “I hadn’t expected a guest.”

“Lord Tilburn is here as my prisoner,” the duke explained.

“Oh, how wonderfully horrid!” Miss Artemis sounded delighted.“I just knew you could be a dastardly, bloodthirsty guardian, Adam, if only you would put your mind to it. Prisoners! How wonderful!”

James’s attention was on Daphne. Physically, she appeared whole. Buther eyes were different. The spark had disappeared. The look of forced serenity on her face slipped momentarily into surprise when her eyes fell on James. She stood stiffly, brows drawn together, lips turned downward. James steppedforward, alarmed, as the color in her face drained by degrees.

She held up her hand. He stopped a few steps from her, knowing what the gesture meant. Daphne’s eyes darted in the duke’s direction, then returnedto James’s face almost immediately. She did not look at all happy to see him.

“Why have you remained?” she asked in an urgent whisper.

“Your brother-in-law invited me to take my evening meal here.”

Daphne shook her head.“The Dangerous Dukedoes not issue invitations. He threatened you.”

“I wanted to stay, and he is allowing me to.” It was something of a twist to the actual facts but true, just the same.

She only looked more confused. The life still hadn’t reentered her eyes, but at least there was a hint of animation in her face.“Well, then, welcome, Lord Tilburn.”

So formal. So impersonal. He bowed in response.“A pleasure, Miss Lancaster.”

She was not particularly talkative with her family, he noticed as the evening wore on. Aside from the occasional nod or quietly offered response, Daphne kept to herself throughout the meal. James had seen her with her family before and did not remember her ever being so distanced from them.

After dinner, Daphne took a seat near the window while the rest of her family sat in a more intimate grouping around the empty fireplace. No one seemed surprised by the distance she placed between herself and her family members. How commonplace had this become?

He had hoped in time to achieve some degree of absolution from thelady he’d harmed. But his goal changed entirely over the course of thatsingle evening. He swore to himself he would do whatever he must to see her happy again, whether or not she ever forgave him.HisDaphne would not meet the same fate as her namesake.

Chapter Thirty-One

Dangerous Dukeor not, AdamBoyce was going to die a slow and painful death. Daphne had spent the previous night in shock owing to James’s “invitation” to dinner. Adam, quite conveniently, was away from home nearly all the next day. Daphne walked directly to his desk shortly after his return that evening fully intending to demand the explanation he owed her.

He looked up at her only briefly, nothing in his demeanor seeming at all concerned at the fierce look she flung at him.“Do not attack me with glares, Daphne. You know I am quite immune to them.”

“How could you?” she asked.

“Grow immune to glares? I could not help it. The talent developed naturally.”

---