Page 45 of Her Ruse with the Rakish Duke
Daphne’s heart skipped a beat at his words. The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with an electric current she had not felt before. “And what if I accept this invitation?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“Then I suppose we will both be in for quite the adventure,” he smirked.
For a moment, they simply sat there, the room around them fading into the background as they held each other’s gaze. The fire crackled, and the rain drummed a steady rhythm against the windows.
Daphne clutched the edges of the book in her lap. Every sense of her being knew she was treading in very dangerous waters.
So, she put on a mask of coolness on her face and said, “Interesting. I might take you up on that challenge. For now, I would like to return to my book.”
His smile widened, “I look forward to it, Lady Daphne. I truly do.”
They returned to their books, but the air between them was different now. Every now and then, their eyes would meet over the pages.
As the night wore on and the rain continued to fall, they remained in their cozy corner of the library, each lost in their own thoughts.
* * *
“So how are things going with you and the duke?” Amelia asked, taking a delicate bite of the cinnamon biscuits they had been served.
Daphne had chosen to have tea in a private drawing room with Amelia and Melanie so they would be free of the prying eyes and ears of the other guests. Considering these few days were all they would have left with her for a while.
It was hard every time she remembered that her sister —who had always been there when she needed guidance— would no longer be a door away, but a carriage ride a couple of hours away.
“Since the night at the theatre, you two have been spending so much time together,” she continued. “Harry and I are overjoyed and we even wonder if we might have two weddings instead of one.”
“That is an exaggeration, sister.” She laughed nervously. “We are only just getting to know one another.”
“You can never be too sure, love.” Amelia smiled knowingly. “For all we know, the duke might have been in love with you for a long time and has only just worked up the courage to ask to court you.”
Daphne wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the thought. It was highly unlikely that he had liked her after just one kiss enough to want to marry her. He was a rake, one who had undoubtedly had his fair share of women. Daphne was nothing special to him.
“That is highly unlikely,” She tried again to dissuade her sister. Yet it felt as though she were trying to dislodge the thought from taking root in her mind. Hope was a dangerous thing.
Amelia continued undeterred. “We have all seen how he looks at you and how he treats you. There is nothing you can say to convince me that the man is not in love with you.”
She laughed as her sister continued chatting with their cousin, unaware of the storm her words had wrought in Daphne. She had been about to take a bite of her preferred biscuit, but paused. She was sure it would taste like chalk.
She could not fault her line of thought and wishful thinking, considering she did not know their courtship was false. Everything would have been much easier if he had not decided to suddenly turn a new leaf.
She had noticed the change in him since the opera and had tried not to read too much into it. Still, she could not help but wonder what had brought it on.
She too was confused about her current situation with the duke. That was why she had avoided him like a plague over the last few days, choosing to have her meals in her room and staying away from any group activities. She had been lucky her mother had said nothing about her behavior or she would have been forced downstairs from her confinement.
After their interaction in the library, they had gone beyond the bounds of a fake courtship and had found a shared love of poetry and nature, talking extensively —late into the night— over tea and biscuits.
They had been alone on those occasions, and even though she brimmed with desire, they had never done anything improper. And even when she greatly wished he would kiss her good night when he escorted her to her door, he had been a gentleman and kissed her hand.
She had lain awake at night wondering at the strange feeling his soft manner wrought in her. He had been positively thoughtful even in his gifts and she wondered if perhaps the lines between them were getting dangerously blurred.
The conflagration that threatened to consume her whole when he touched her or she noticed the desire in his beautiful blue eyes had not dimmed, but transformed into a warm simmer that left her breathless.
She knew she was hovering dangerously over a precipice of liking him. She was not so averse to the idea, but she had liked him once and he had left her for four years. What were the odds that this time he would not do the same thing?
Tea time ended quickly and she remembered the duke had invited her out riding with him, but for fear of the conversation she had just had taking root in her heart, she decided to spend time with the ladies at embroidery even though she hated the activity.
A pang of guilt hit her at the last minute and she wrote a short simple note informing the duke she would be unavailable for their meeting using a headache as an excuse. The same excuse she had used to avoid him for days.
A footman came to find her soon after with Victor’s reply. He wrote back a funny quip about how her being away from him for days was the reason why she was having the headaches. She wrote back saying he was the source of her headache. She instructed the servant to inform him she would be taking a nap in her room and did not want to be disturbed so he would not send any more notes.
