Chapter 24

Ambrose

The following Monday morning, Ambrose arrived at Stanton Hall, as was his wont, and headed directly to Daniel's study. He had seen him yesterday at a luncheon hosted by the Sedgwicks at Mulverley Grange. Daniel had only just returned from his trip to London, a day later than planned, explaining that his train the previous evening had been delayed, necessitating an overnight stay at his house in Oxford. Ambrose's curiosity had been aroused, but Daniel had studiously ignored his gaze, addressing his remarks to Sarah instead.

All through luncheon, Ambrose had observed him keenly. Something was different about Daniel, but he could not quite put his finger on it. Ambrose's stomach lurched at the idea of Daniel knowing about Emily. Had Daniel discovered the truth? Would he reject their friendship? But there was relief too at the thought of Daniel knowing. For months, Ambrose had been longing to tell him his news. Perhaps now, with this opportunity for private discourse, Ambrose would find out how things stood with his friend. He knocked on the study door and entered.

Daniel smiled at him from behind his desk. "Ah, good morning, Ambrose. You are looking well," he said cheerfully.

"And you," replied Ambrose, coming to sit opposite him. "I was sorry to hear about your train on Saturday," he said casually.

"Yes, it was rather tiresome," responded Daniel. "I had to wake Briggs from his bed, poor fellow."

"Did you happen, by any chance, to meet anyone else?" enquired Ambrose.

Daniel threw him an amused glance, not immediately answering him. "What is it you really want to know, Ambrose?" he asked instead. "Out with it."

Ambrose felt himself flush. "Nothing," he protested. "I was merely enquiring generally."

Daniel leaned forward, his palm on his cheek. "I have been thinking, Ambrose," he began.

"Yes, Daniel?"

"I believe it would be beneficial if you were to increase the frequency of your visits to Oxford from once a month to once a week," declared Daniel.

"Why so?" demanded Ambrose suspiciously.

Daniel ignored the question and continued his speech. "Except on the first Thursday of every month, when you must keep your fixed appointment at the bank, I think it would be best that you travel there on a Friday afternoon and return Saturday evening. I do not see you on Saturdays as it is, so it will not be a great loss of your company for me, and as for Sarah, I shall ensure that she spends her time with Isabella and me during your absences, so you need not worry about her."

"Is a weekly trip to Oxford not a trifle excessive?" asked Ambrose uncomfortably.

Daniel raised a brow. "Do you consider seeing your child once a week excessive, Ambrose?"

The jig was up. "So, you know," said Ambrose quietly.

"I know," confirmed Daniel. His expression hardened. "When were you planning to inform me that you were a father, Ambrose?"

"I thought to keep this side of my life private," he said, twiddling nervously with his thumbs.

"And I thought we were friends," said Daniel flatly.

"We are!" flashed Ambrose.

"Friends confide in one another," continued Daniel.

"I have been dying to tell you. It has been on the tip of my tongue a thousand times," said Ambrose defensively.

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because," said Ambrose softly, "I did not want to cause you pain."

Torrid dark eyes fixed their gaze on him. "You think finding out about Emily would cause me pain?"

"Didn't it?"

Daniel sighed aloud. "Maybe a very little. Mostly, it gave me great joy. She is beautiful, Ambrose."

He smiled proudly. "Yes, she is my princess."

"If I may ask a delicate question, how did William Forbes react on hearing the news?" wondered Daniel.

Ambrose grimaced. "It was not a pleasant interview. I was there for it. He agreed to give Emily his name and nothing else. I shall be the one to provide financially for her. I am already putting aside funds every month."

"Then double those funds, Ambrose, with a contribution from me. Whatever happens, rest assured that her future will be provided for," said Daniel earnestly.

"Why should you?" demanded Ambrose. "She is not yours."

Daniel winced at the choice of words, and Ambrose regretted them instantly. "No," Daniel agreed, "she is not mine, but she is yours, and that matters to me. You matter to me. Do not argue with me on this, Ambrose. As it is, I am hardly likely to marry or have children of my own, so I might as well put aside some of my fortune for your daughter."

A swell of bittersweet emotion swept through him at these words—guilt and sadness for Daniel mixed with pleasure that no one else would have him. He had feared that one day, his friend would bring a bride to Stanton Hall. But Daniel was young still to be making such pronouncements, not yet six and twenty. How could he be so sure that he would never marry? Ambrose looked into Daniel's eyes then, seeing the swell of emotion in his dark gaze, and he knew of course, although he could hardly admit it to himself. Daniel still loved him. His chest swelled with happiness and pain. For this changed nothing. The two of them together as lovers was an impossibility. There could be nothing between them but what they had now.

"Thank you. That is very kind," he said stiffly to Daniel, and the subject was closed.