Page 113 of Romancing Daphne

She did not answer immediately. James gently rubbed her hand with both of his, knowing the memories she had were not always happy.

“He told me once, when I was no more than seven, that he had no use for me, that he would much rather be alone than in my company.”

James winced. Was it any wonder she’d learned to guard herself against anticipated rejection?“Your father speaks more of you than of anyone else.And I assure you it is not to disparage your company. There is an abundance of pride and adoration in his recollections.”

“Then why would he have sent me away?” Heartache permeated every word, something in her tone putting him firmly in mind of a pained and frightened little girl.

James shifted enough to very nearly face her, though it necessitatedbreaking the contact between them. She must have sensed his gaze becauseshe turned her eyes up toward him.“I know you have been through anordeal this afternoon, but have you the endurance to hear a bit more, something which will probably prove likewise tumultuous?”

“Is it something awful?”

“No.”

She nodded, and James took it as permission to proceed. He hoped he was doing the right thing.

“Your father told me—or whomever he thought me to be during that visit—that though his wife was an acclaimed beauty, what had captured his interest and heart was her wit and intelligence and goodness. Those qualities, he said, were what continually drew him back to her.” Daphne seemed to be holding up, so he continued.“During another visit, he told me that his second daughter looked the most like his wife.”

Daphne nodded.

“But,” James pressed forward,“that of all his children, ‘little Daphne’ had the largest measure of her mother in her. He said that spending timewith you was like being in company with a miniature version of his wife.”

“He never said anything like that to me,” she whispered.

“I think that is why he spent so much time with you when you were very small, because you reminded him of her. Those same qualities he treasured in her, he treasured in you.”

“But then he didn’t want me anymore.” Her eyes had taken on that pleading quality that tugged so fiercely at James’s heart.

“I honestly believe, Daphne, that he couldn’t bear it. You reminded him so much of the lady he had lost and missed acutely, and the pain pushed him beyond his limit. It does not excuse what he did, nor make it right. But you must understand that his neglect came not from anyshortcomings on your part nor a lack of love on his but from a misguided attempt to save himself from the agony of his grief. And I believe that by the time the pain would naturally have abated to the point where he might have returned to normal life, his mind had already begun to deteriorate and he no longer truly realized what he was about.”

She looked away from him, not in anger or pique but with an expression of contemplation.“You have certainly given me a lot to think about.”

“I hope that you will,” he said.“Life has placed far too many burdens on you. This is one you need not carry.” James brushed a loose brown tendrilaway from her face.“You look positively done in,” he said, guilt pricking him at the realization.

“I am rather worn to the bone.”

“You should go rest, perhaps even have a dinner tray brought to you.”

“I might just do that.” She rose, and James followed suit.

Not two steps from him, she turned back.“I meant to ask you,” she said hesitantly,“did you have a hand in . . . that is . . . did you have my bedchamberredone?”

James’s stomach knotted. He’d forgotten about that bit of presumptuousness.“I did,” he confessed. Suddenly nervous, he rushed through his excuses.“It was so dreary. I could not imagine you being remotely happy inthere. I only meant to make the smallest of changes, but the project seemed to grow entirely out of proportion. I hope you are not upset with me, that itis at least a little to your liking.”

She stepped back to where he stood waiting for her condemnation. Her delicate hand lightly touched his face. Daphne rose on her toes and pressed the lightest of kisses on his cheek.“It is perfect,” she whispered.

So shocked was he by her salute that he did not so much as blink. He only remembered to breathe after she had already slipped from the room.

He was so close to securing her regard. He could sense it within hisreach. The walls she had erected to protect her battered heart had begun to crumble, and he needed only to find his way in.

Chapter Forty-One

A note from James arrivedwith Daphne’s cup of chocolate the nextmorning, asking her to take a walk with him about the grounds near lunchtime. She didn’t have to even ponder the invitation. Accepting was automatic.

She saw him before he saw her, his attention claimed at the momentshe stepped outside by something in the opposite direction. The breeze ruffled his hair, giving him a very natural at-ease look. The tension he’dconstantly worn during those first weeks of the London Season had disappeared. Freedom from the tyranny of his father had done James a world of good.

He smiled broadly the moment his eyes fell on her. Daphne’s heart warmed at the pleasure in his expression. No one ever seemed as happy to see her as James did.

“Good day, Daphne,” he greeted her, taking her hand in his. He did not hold himself to the more formal salute of kissing the air above her hand but pressed his lips to it directly.“I hope you have no other engagements this afternoon.”

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