Page 21 of Betting on a Baron
Footfalls in the hallway had Ambrose setting Daphne aside. “I must take my leave. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He leaned in and kissed her once more before scrambling to unlock the window and launching himself out into the gardens.
He fell to the hard ground just as Daphne snapped a book closed and said, “Heaven’s above, Papa, you scared me.”
Ambrose chuckled. He was lucky Daphne was ingenuous. Seated up against the cold brick wall, he closed his eyes and sent up a prayer of thanks for the interruption. But reality was, turning into a statue when things became intimate between him and Daphne wouldn’t do. He needed to address his lack of knowledge and fast.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Focusing on the discussion surrounding her at Lady Archbroke’s salon had never been a challenge before for Daphne. She loved participating in the lively literary discussions, but today her mind refused to stop replaying images from Ambrose’s visit. Her lips tingled every time she dared to sneak a glance at the man seated next to her. Over years of admiring the man’s profile from every angle possible, Daphne had amassed a plethora of images of Ambrose, but none compared to the passionate gaze she’d witnessed last night.
Flushed, she waved her wrinkled copy of Louisa Herman’s latest poem in front of her like a fan as the others heatedly debated it. Lady Archbroke had obtained the piece prior to publication and distributed it to the group for discussion. At first, Daphne suspected Lady Archbroke to be the one who penned the poems that demonstrated both patriotism and a woman’s perspective on the never-ending trials of change within home and state. But when her host shared her difficulties reaching Louisa and fears that the poet was in danger, some months ago, Daphne realized her host was not feigning concern and that the female responsible for the highly insightful verses was some woman other than Lady Archbroke.
Ambrose leaned toward her and said, “You are awfully quiet today. Are you feeling unwell?”
All morning she’d worried Ambrose would distance himself from her once again like he had three months ago after their intimate embrace. Her worries had been laid to rest when he chose the seat next to her rather than as far away as possible.
She turned to face Ambrose, and her heart fluttered at the sight of his concern-filled eyes. “I’m a tad tired.” Daphne quickly bowed her head and pretended to be reading over the poem before Lady Archbroke noticed that they were breaking the rules once more.
Ambrose whispered, “My apologies if it was I who caused you to lose sleep last night.” His copy of the poem floated down to the floor next to her feet. He reached down to retrieve it and added, “How can I ease your discomfort?”
A myriad of answers popped into her mind, none of which were practical. She wanted him to whisk her away. She wanted to be wrapped up in his warm embrace. She wanted… blimey, she’d amassed all too many wishes over the years. Even if they married tomorrow, she wasn’t sure they could be fulfilled in one lifetime. Daphne shook her head and gave him a weak smile. His simple offer of support was more than enough for now.
Lord Archbroke’s authoritative tone broke through her thoughts, “Lord Harlowe. A word, please.”
Ugh. They had broken the rules and now Ambrose was to pay the price.
She held her breath as Ambrose rose and followed the lord of the house out of the drawing room. Before the footman closed the door, Ambrose looked over his shoulder and gave her a wink. Flustered all over again, Daphne glanced about the room only to find Lady Archbroke grinning in her direction. Her host said, “Mayhap Lady Daphne would care to share her thoughts on Ms. Herman’s lines:A touch as delicate as lace. She quivered like a music-string, ready to snap.”
Daphne hadn’t missed Lady Archbroke’s slight tilt of the chin. Her host wanted a lively discussion and that was what Daphne intended to provide, even if her mind was elsewhere with Ambrose.
* * *
In the presenceof his wife, Lord Archbroke often resembled a trained lion; however, the man was by no means a pussy cat. Lord Archbroke exuded an air of command that only a fool would ignore. Ambrose followed the man into an antechamber he’d never been granted access to before.
“Have a seat.” Archbroke indicated to a straight-backed wooden chair in the middle of the otherwise empty room.
A tendril of trepidation ran down Ambrose’s spine. He clasped his hands behind his back and walked toward the chair, but rather than sitting as ordered, he stood next to the simple yet uncomfortable looking piece of furniture. “I’d rather remain standing.”
“Suit yourself.” Lord Archbroke began to pace the perimeter of the room. “At the request of my wife, I made several inquiries to determine exactly how dire your financial position may be.”
“And?”
“It came as no surprise tomethat you are indeed far from being a pauper anytime soon, and that these so-called creditors hounding you for funds are but indeed close friends willing to vouch for your foolish scheme.”
“I’m no fool.”
“I beg to disagree.” Lord Archbroke came to stand in front of Ambrose and with penetrating eyes added, “A man in love is often guilty of foolhardy behavior. Are you not a gentleman in love?”
Ambrose took a step forward and reaffirmed. “I’m no fool.”
“Very well. Pray explain how it came to be that you failed to recognize Daphne’s longstanding tendre for you…”
Lord Archbroke’s gaze narrowed upon him. As if he’d been punched in the gut, Ambrose expelled a deep breath and took a large step backwards. But the man wasn’t finished.
Lord Archbroke continued, “Better yet, why don’t you start by explaining why you sabotaged every attempt by a serious suitor to win Lady Daphne’s hand … or why you claimed your affections for Lady Daphne were akin to that of a sister. My sources were able to provide many interesting facts about your past but none more so than the fact that you have led a chaste life.” Lord Archbroke stepped around Ambrose and sank into the chair he’d previously offered. “I admire you and your restraint. Yet I have an inkling that your decision is negatively impacting your pursuit of Lady Daphne. Since both my wife and I care deeply for Lady Daphne, I am here to offer my assistance.”
Ambrose whirled around, ready to plant his fist into Lord Archbroke’s smug face. But the man caught Ambrose by the wrist. “Tsk. Tsk. Here I am willing to be of help…”
“You are the fool, Archbroke. I’d never accept the help from the likes of you.”
