Page 41 of Her Ruse with the Rakish Duke
And, there was a dangerously wounded part of her that wished she was right about her son’s feelings.
* * *
“Come, I will escort you to the theater,” Victor said. He held out a hand toward Daphne who was on the verge of descending the stairs in their house.
She was resplendent in a pale blue dress, pale skin glistening under the warm gas lamp above her head. She glanced back, “My father?—”
“Will prefer that I do. Come.”
With a little hesitation, she revealed those slender fingers. Victor smiled and wrapped his around them. They were cold but warmed his heart.
“You were exceptional today, Your Grace.”
“I am always exceptional,” Victor returned, then started to laugh.
Daphne rolled her eyes at him and repeated his sentence, mimicking the exact tone and wording. “That is correct,” Victor responded nonchalantly—he knew she’d meant to tease him, but he didn’t mind.
He led her down the steps. “You never change,” she told him.
“Change can be a dangerous thing, my lady. Do you enjoy these performances?”
“The Siege of Rhodes has always held some fascination for me. I cannot wait to see how it will be portrayed. I hear the troupe is brilliant. Able to captivate the audience with their flair. Although, I wonder why Lord Lutton chose it.”
They entered the path that would lead toward Harry’s private theater. Other guests walked with them, several tipping their hats to Victor. Some congratulated him on singlehandedly winning in the afternoon. Victor soaked it up, especially glad when he remembered Percy’s reddened face.
“Yes, he is partial to them. It was the first performance he attended with his mother. His father was against it at the time, citing that young boys should devote their time to something more profitable. Now, the entire family cannot go a year without it. I hear it is a kind of tradition for them.”
“Oh, it does sound special. And you know them so well. Yet you give the appearance that you could be a stranger.” Daphne remarked.
“No, I am not a stranger to Harry. Not in the least. He is a man for whom I have deep respect.”
“You grew up as an only child, I am glad that you have someone like him.”
Victor waited for the sharp pain that always swam through his heart whenever his childhood was mentioned. He smiled down at her when there was nothing but that warmth, flowing through him from their joined hands.
“If you ever repeat that to him, I will deny it vehemently.”
She placed a delicate hand over her lips and giggled, “Ah, I have a weapon against you now; tread carefully.”
“You would not hurt a fly, I daresay. I always wondered what it would be like, to grow up with siblings…”
Or a happy family.
“Did you share a good relationship with your sister?”
“I suppose, yes. With siblings, it can be a little complicated. I love her more than life itself, yet when she borrows my shoes or a dress without telling me, I want to tear her eyes out. That was when we were younger, of course.”
Victor laughed out loud, picturing a smaller Daphne defending her territory against her sister. His laughter drew pointed stares from people, not that he cared. He led Daphne up the stairs into the theater.
“Once, I wore a hat of hers to a tea party. I did not tell her, and she marched right over there and gave me a loud earful. The host had to walk us away from her house, with a wish never to see us again, lest we corrupt her only daughter.”
“I can imagine the bloodbath when you returned home.”
“I went up to my bedchambers, and she to hers. We did not speak to each other for a month. We were both terrified of what would happen if our parents heard so we put up an appearance whenever we were in their presence.”
“False appearances, I see that I have been outmatched. You have previous experience.”
She nudged his side with her elbow. “This is clearly different,” she said under her breath.
