Page 111 of Romancing Daphne

Daphne looked back at him, worry and pain written all over her face.“That is my father, isn’t it?”

James nodded.

She looked again in the direction of her father’s bedchamber even asanother cough echoed from within its walls. Her brow knit with worry, grief filling her posture.“My papa is really going to die.”

He could not be blamed for what he did next—any gentleman with half a heart would have been powerless to do anything else. He took her in his arms, silently and gently holding her.

He could offer no words to contradict her assertion. Mr. Lancaster was indeed going to die. Even to James’s untrained eye that much was obvious.The local physician doubted he would last the remainder of the summer.

James had made a point of visiting the ailing man a few times each day. Though he doubted anything he said penetrated the fog that shrouded Mr. Lancaster’s mind, James kept him informed of his work and efforts aroundthe estate. He meant it as a show of respect for the father of the lady heloved and a gesture of recognition of the capable person the man had oncebeen.

In the midst of Mr. Lancaster’s often indecipherable mutterings, James had learned some invaluable things. He’d heard snippets of Mr. Lancaster’s childhood visits to the Shropshire estate, a small, unentailed property his father had eventually left him. The recounting gave James a better understanding of the land’s history and prior uses. Far more valuable, though, was the insight he’d gained into the father who had unknowingly broken his little girl’s heart. What he’d learned had softened James’s feelings toward the man.

“Would you like to go see him?” he whispered to Daphne, still safe in the circle of his arms.

He felt her shake her head even before he heard her refusal.“I’ll go with the others. Later. I don’t—I’ll wait.”

“I think you should look in on him, Daphne.”

“He won’t even remember me.” The slightest catch in her voice revealed the pain she felt.

“He will notrecognizeyou,” James said,“but I promise he does remember you.”

She looked up at him.“He did not remember me even when I lived here, before his senility grew so pointed.”

James gently cupped her face in his hand. The heartbreak he heard in her words caused a matching twinge in his own chest. How lonely she must have been growing up.“You should see him, my dear.”

“I do not think I could bear it.” Her face momentarily crumpled.

“I will come with you,” he said.“You don’t need to face this alone.”

“Will you hold my hand?”

Was this even a question?“Of course.”

With the cloak of bravery he had come to associate with her wrapped firmly around her once more, Daphne took a breath and walked in the direction of her father’s chamber, her shaking hand held firmly in James’s.

He pushed the door open. Daphne’s grip grew tighter as they stepped inside. The room was kept somewhat dim, though not overly so. The nurse who looked after Mr. Lancaster was a capable and hardworking woman who kept the room tidy and well aired. Unlike far too many sickrooms, the stench of illness did not hang heavy and stale about them. Mr. Lancaster’s valet took pains with the man’s appearance, though his employer could not possibly realize nor value the service. Still, the efforts at maintaining the gentleman’s dignity spoke volumes of the two servants’ human kindness.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Ashton,” James greeted the nurse, who had turned from her tidying at the sound of their entrance.“Miss Lancaster has come to look in on her father.”

Mrs. Ashton nodded and smiled, the look one of approval and empathy. She no doubt realized better than anyone how little time remained for such visits.

“I do not know if I can do this,” Daphne whispered, pulling so close to him their arms brushed.

“I will be right here with you, dear.” How different being her support and defender felt from every other time he’d been required to play that role. She did not demand it of him, and yet her sincere gratitude could not be doubted.

Daphne was silent as they reached the bed in which her father had spent every moment of the past few months. James squeezed her hand, hoping to remind her that she did not face this ordeal alone.

“Good afternoon,” James said upon realizing Mr. Lancaster was awake.

His thin face turned in their direction. Every breath wheezed out of him slowly and painstakingly. Daphne did not visibly react, though Jamesfelt certain her father’s deteriorated condition affected her.

Mr. Lancaster’s eyes narrowed, a look of momentary confusion in their depths. Then he nodded a greeting.“Good day to you, Robert.” He pulled in a rattling breath.

“Robert?” Daphne whispered.

James leaned a bit closer to her and explained in a low voice.“I understand that is his brother’s name.”

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