Chapter 11

Inspired by the performance they had enjoyed the night before, Daphne decided to spend some time reading.

She glanced out of the window of the library as thick droplets of rain landed on the green grass. She always found summer rain to be rather comforting, and the perfect excuse to curl up with a book in the library after dinner.

As she entered the house's master library, a smile formed on her face.

The room exuded an aura of timeless elegance, its walls covered with shelves upon shelves of weathered books, which made Daphne's heart flutter with excitement.

After taking at least a quarter of an hour to choose a book, she took the volume in her arms and sat down in a plush armchair, positioned near the crackling fireplace, which must have been lit by the servants to warm up the house during the cool downpour.

The flames cast flickering shadows across the room while the light from the candles peppered the room in light like fireflies.

Daphne opened the book and became so immersed in the marvelous story, that she barely lifted her head when the door opened.

"Oh. Sorry. I thought everyone had gone to bed," Victor said gently as he passed the threshold.

She gave him a polite smile, "Not everyone. I thought I would take some time to read."

Victor's gaze shifted towards the tall windows, and as he did, the embers from the fire in the hearth reflected in his eyes like little stars.

"Perfect weather for reading, isn't it?" he muttered and returned his eyes to her with a smile.

She nodded and returned her attention to the book.

"Do you mind if I join you?" she heard Victor ask.

"Be my guest," she shrugged and continued reading.

Still, she remained aware as he picked a book off the shelves and sat in the armchair across from hers.

He flicked through the pages, the sound mirroring the crackling of the fire. Then, she felt his eyes upon her.

"I would like to ask you a question," Victor finally spoke and she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze.

Under ordinary circumstances, she would be quite annoyed with him for interrupting her reading. However, with the way he was staring at her, she could not help but feel drawn toward him.

"Yes?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Which one do you prefer?" he continued, his gaze locked with hers across the flickering expanse of the fire. "A rainy day spent indoors curled up by the fire with a good book, or a picnic in summer by a pond?"

She considered his question carefully, her brow furrowing slightly as she gazed into the depths of the flames.

After a moment's contemplation, she said, "A rainy day indoors," her words carrying a hint of nostalgia. "There is something decadent about the sound of heavy rain against the windows, something almost… magical."

He nodded in understanding, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Indeed," he murmured, his eyes alight with shared understanding. "The rain has a way of soothing the soul, don't you think? It is as though the world outside is being cleansed, renewed, reborn."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "I did not know you could be so poetic, Your Grace."

"You do not know a lot of things about me, Lady Daphne," he responded, his voice deep and low, sending shivers down her spine.

Their eyes met.

"Such as?" she challenged, and she spotted a twinkle of excitement in his eyes.

The rain outside suddenly intensified in a rhythm that harmonized perfectly with the crackling fire.

The room's atmosphere grew warmer. She held his gaze, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and intrigue.

Victor leaned back in his armchair, the book in his lap forgotten. "Such as," he began, "my appreciation for the arts. Poetry, literature, music… they all have a way of speaking to the soul, don't you think?"

Daphne arched an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "I had no idea you were such a romantic, Victor."

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and inviting. "There are many layers to a person. One just needs to take the time to peel them away."

She leaned forward slightly, her interest piqued. "And how many layers do you think you have, Your Grace?"

"More than most care to discover," he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But I suspect you might be different."

"Different, how?" she asked.

He studied her for a moment as if weighing his next words carefully. "You seem to have a thirst for knowledge, a curiosity that goes beyond the surface. You see the world in a way that others might overlook."

Daphne scoffed. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Your Grace."

"Who said I was trying to flatter you?" he countered smoothly, a grin playing at his lips. "I am merely stating an observation."

She laughed softly. "Perhaps you are right. Maybe I do see things a bit differently."

"Well, you are the only one in this house who has decided to spend their evening reading in the library instead of slumbering. Apart from yours truly, that is." Victor's gaze softened, his demeanor becoming more earnest, "Tell me, Daphne. What is it that you see when you look at the world? What captivates your imagination?"

Daphne took a moment to think, her eyes drifting to the fireplace. "I see beauty in the small things," she began, her voice thoughtful. "The way the rain sounds against the window, the way a good book can transport you to another world, the way a simple smile can change someone's day."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It is the little things that make life truly remarkable, isn't it?"

"Indeed," she agreed, her eyes returning to his. "And what about you? What captivates your imagination?"

Upon hearing her question, his eyes roamed over her and by the time they had reached her eyes again, he licked his lips. Daphne gulped, seeing the way his gaze had shifted, and gone darker. She knew his answer was not going to be as chaste as hers.

However, Victor blinked and put on a polite smile, and the hungry darkness in his eyes vanished. "The same things, really. Moments of quiet reflection, the power of a well-chosen word, the mystery in a pair of curious eyes."

Daphne felt her cheeks warm under his gaze. "You are quite the enigma, you know."

"Only to those who do not take the time to look," he replied softly. "But I think you might be up to the challenge."

She tilted her head, her smile teasing. "Are you daring me, Your Grace?"

"Consider it an invitation," he said, his voice low. "To see if you can unravel the mystery."

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.

"Did you all hear?" Lady Emerson, the Countess of Winterhaven, announced as they stepped into the room they had converted into their workstation.

"What is it, Minerva?" Lady Ursula, Marchioness of Cloven Park, asked excitedly as she pulled out her tools.

"The Duke of Kensington saved Lord Pascal from what would have been a terrible accident today," the woman announced earning a gasp from all the ladies in the room.

Daphne resisted the urge to sigh as she had chosen to spend time away from the duke in order to avoid him, but it seemed inevitable that it was not meant to be. His presence was hard to ignore.

"How?" Someone else asked but she did not look up from her work to identify the owner of the voice.

"They went riding and decided it would be fun to hunt larger prey. Lord Pascal's horse got spooked by all the shooting and bucked, nearly throwing him off."

"Oh my! Lord Pascal is almost sixty. He could have broken certainly something, or worse."

Despite her attempt to feign disinterest, Daphne's attention was piqued as the gravity of the situation settled over them.

"His Grace leaped off his horse and caught him just as he was about to fall." The woman explained with wide eyes. "I hear it was all very exciting. Thankfully, Lord Pascal and His Grace were not hurt."

"Oh thank God," the women cried.

"We should go and see His Grace." A voice she identified as Lady Rose's, the daughter of the Marquess of Farnworth said. "We should go and show our gratitude."

All the women stood up with her in front rushing out of the room, leaving Daphne, Amelia, Melanie, and her mother in the room, the latter staring at her with a pointed look.

"What is it, Mother?" she asked with a sigh when she got tired of feigning interest in her design.

"Aren't you going to go see the duke?" her mother huffed exasperatedly. "You know that tiny-footed girl has her sights set on him as well as the other marriage-minded mamas who just heard how he had saved Lord Pascal."

"And?"

She knew she was being rude, and it was for good reason. Her parents had been staunchly against her courting Victor.

"What do you mean ‘and', you silly girl?" Her mother scolded. "Do you want the duke to set his sights on her?"

No, in truth, she did not want that but…

She groaned rising from her seat.

"But you and Father did not want him courting me," she said exasperatedly. "What has changed?"

"Well…"

Amelia snorted slapping a hand over her mouth a minute too late at their mother's sheepish expression.

"I can't believe you," she shouted, storming out of the room.

It turned out she needed space from everyone. Not just Victor.

* * *

"Oh," said Daphne —the sole object of Victor's anger the past few days— as she pulled back from him.

He had been about to go looking for her after escaping the flood of feminine attention he had been receiving since saving Lord Pascal from an untimely demise.

Usually, he would be one to entertain female attention, but they all suddenly had marriage on their minds. And it was only one woman's attention he had been near begging for, for days, so he made an excuse of needing to rest in an effort to find his elusive partner.

She looked resplendent. Not at all ridden with a headache as she had claimed, in a lovely light purple day gown that gave her a youthful glow. Her round cheeks glowed red as she flushed with embarrassment and not desire, which he would have preferred. He had begun to understand her expressions as well as his own.

Why is she embarrassed?

Perhaps she had not been expecting to see him.

He had wondered why she had suddenly begun avoiding him. It certainly was so because she had started turning and running in the other direction whenever she had seen him coming.

What had suddenly spurred this strange behavior in her? His emotions oscillated between worry and anger as the days went past. Yet no single sensible reason had come to light.

He had been positively gentlemanly with her, struggling but ultimately succeeding in keeping his hands to himself, no matter how tempting she had looked, and talking about her favorite books. And when she would look up at him with her big innocent eyes… eyes which begged him to kiss her.

Now that Daphne was standing in front of him, Victor's anger lit up once again. He was not going to let her go without an answer.

"Your Grace," she curtsied, kindling his frustration.

Why would she suddenly revert to treating him like a stranger?

"What are you doing, Daphne?" He glared unable to keep the heat out of his voice.

She looked away from him biting her lip.

"I do not understand you, Your Grace."

"I told you to call me Victor." He responded. "Why are you avoiding me?"

She paled, her eyes darting around.

"And do not think you will be able to flee this time." He frowned, stepping closer to her. "I want an answer."

"I… I am not avoiding you." She stuttered in a high-pitched voice. She cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders and unknowingly emphasizing her cleavage. "Why would I be avoiding you?"

The familiar beat of lust swimming through his bloodstream strummed through him. He ignored it and he raised a brow at her.

"That is precisely what I am asking you, darling," he said, stepping even closer.

"Your Grace." She warned, her hands coming up to stop him.

Her hands on his abdomen sent a spark through him but he was undeterred.

"People could see us," she warned again.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked in a small voice. "Is that why you are avoiding me?"

"No, you did not." She sighed. "I just…"

"Victor?"

His mother's voice caused him to pull away from her and put her behind him.

"Oh, it is you, Lady Daphne. Is everything all right?" she asked trying to peer over his shoulder.

"Good day, Your Grace." Daphne curtsied. "Everything is well."

"Yes, Mother it is," he said, noting the dark circles under her eyes. "Are you all right?"

She jumped like she had been startled by the question.

"Yes, I am," she answered with a weak smile. "Could we talk? In private, please."

His body instantly went on alert as he wondered why she had to ask so seriously. He nodded and turned to Daphne behind him.

"I will see you after dinner," he told her. "This discussion is not over."

She nodded shakily but looked frightened.

"Do not worry." He smiled at her despite the turmoil inside him. "It is only my mother. She will not say anything."

She nodded and scurried off.

He turned back to see his mother smiling at him with a wistful expression.

"I really do like that girl," his mother said. "Come. Let's go for a stroll around the orchard."

* * *

When Daphne entered the privacy of her chamber, she was positively breathless.

Victor had looked really angry with her when he had asked why she had been avoiding him. Yet he had been gentle in his worry, asking if he had hurt her.

It was things like this that made it hard for her to remember they were not really courting. She had almost forgotten they were in public when she had placed her hand on his abdomen, feeling the hard ridges of his muscles.

She warmed up thinking about how his eyes had darkened and how his heat had called to her.

How was she to explain that these were the reasons she had begun to stay away from him? She had to stay away from him, otherwise she would throw herself into his arms.

She lay face down on her bed, screaming into the mattress, not caring about wrinkling her dress.

To think his mother had seen them in such an improper state. She groaned again. The woman would have thought her poorly bred and would no doubt want her son to stay away from her.

She did not know how long she lay there, but soon there was a knock on her door and her sister and cousin burst in to prepare for the evening meal.

She chose a dark blue number that she had been complimented on in the past. Her maid helped her style her hair in an intricate updo which was a tiny bit elaborate for dinner. She applied some rouge to her cheeks and lips, and with a spritz of her favored lavender scent, she was ready. She felt prime and ready for battle as she looked into the mirror.

Her mother had showered her with praise when she stepped into the drawing room as they waited to move into the dining room. Daphne barely cared as it was only one pair of eyes she wanted on her.

She frowned when she could not find him in the room.

Where could he be?

She calmed when she noticed Amelia's knowing smirk and chose to mingle.

She also noticed that the dowager duchess seemed to be missing and wondered if everything was all right. The woman had not looked too good earlier, with dark circles under her eyes and her already-pale skin looking even paler.

Daphne wondered how she made it past dinner and even past the parlor games afterward with the disappointment bubbling in her bloodstream.

The duke had not shown up to dinner, and as she got ready for bed, she realized that she would not be able to sleep until she knew he and his mother were both well.

She bided her time until Melanie had finally fallen asleep. Then she made her move, remembering to put a robe over her nightgown. She did not bother taking a candle, relying on muscle memory to take her to the duke's chambers.

Standing in front of his door, she felt her heart pounding out an unsteady rhythm as she realized the gravity of her actions.

How would she explain her reason for coming to the duke's door?

Shaking off her fear, she knocked, undeterred from her purpose. Since she had made it all that way, she intended to see her mission through to the end.

She knocked again when she heard no answer, and wanted to turn away but decided to test the handle to be sure he was not in.

When the door opened, she looked behind her for any night crawlers like herself. After making sure the coast was clear, she took a step into his chamber.

When she finally turned after shutting the door, a gasp escaped her as blood sang in her ears at the sight before her.