Chapter Sixteen

Being social was exhausting. Daphne had talked and interacted with more people in the last few days than she generally did over the course of a month. The undertaking made her ever more grateful for those days when she had the pleasure of Adam’s quiet company.

Today’s afternoon appointment, however, was coming to an end. Adam had risen from his armchair.

“I do not know that Persephone will permit me to miss calls tomorrow,” Daphne said.

“I will not be in London tomorrow.” He set the book he’d been reading on his desk.

“You are traveling?”

He nodded, his expression less than enthusiastic. “I am for Shropshire, within the hour, in fact.”

Daphne’s heart froze on the instant. “Has something happened to Father?” His health had steadily declined during the years she and her sisters had lived with Adam and Persephone.

“His caretaker informs me his mental state has deteriorated further. I thought it best to see for myself how the land lies so I can give your brother a thorough explanation when he makes port.”

Daphne nodded at the wisdom of that, though the timing struck her as decidedly convenient for a gentleman who despised London during the Season. “And you will miss a significant portion of the social whirl.” She gave him a knowing look. “I am certain you are heartbroken about that.”

“Keep your cheeky remarks to yourself,” he muttered. “I take no delight in leaving my wife to fend for herself in this den of idiocy.” He crossed to the sofa where she sat. An earnestness entered his eyes, and Daphne found she couldn’t tease him further. “Neither can I be at ease abandoning her when she is not in the pink of health.”

Daphne had noticed Persephone’s flagging spirits, but no one had told her that her sister was truly ill. “If she needs to return home—”

Adam cut off her offer before she’d fully made it. “Persephone insists she is well enough to remain, and I have learned over the past seven years that arguing with her is as futile as explaining to the Regent the benefits of exercising economy.”

“Or undertaking a reducing diet,” Daphne offered.

Amusement entered his very somber expression. Daphne was glad of it. She didn’t like seeing him so burdened.

“How long do you anticipate being gone?”

“The journey will not take overly long, but my sojourn there will depend entirely on what I find upon my arrival and how long your brother takes to arrive.”

Daphne shifted a little to face him more fully. Adam was in his “methodical and conscientious overseer of the estate” mind-set. She’d learned long ago that he needed a listening ear more than anything else in these moments.

“And the entire thing will be endlessly complicated by the fact that I am taking Artemis with me.” His annoyed tone spoke volumes.

“Why in heaven’s name would you do that to yourself? You’ll more than likely toss her out the carriage window halfway there.”

The stern lines in Adam’s face clearly indicated he was not anticipating the journey with any degree of equanimity. “At times like this, it is terribly inconvenient to be irrevocably in love with one’s wife.”

“You would do this for Persephone?”

He nodded. “I would do anything for her.”

Artemis’s dramatic enthusiasm grated on Adam; everyone in the family knew as much. Yet he was willing to endure her exclusive company and what would likely be a long string of complaints mingled with ridiculous daydreams in order to spare his wife the trouble of her. What must that be like? To have a man love her to the point of such selflessness?

“I have a few assignments for you.” Adam moved straight to the heart of the matter. “First, do not allow Lord Techney to bully you, something he is infuriatingly fond of doing.”

“I may be of a quiet nature, Adam, but when in the years I’ve been under your tutelage have you known anyone to bully me?”

He gave a crisp nod. “Next, keep an eye on that slippery fellow who purports to be courting you.”

“Slippery fellow? Purports to be courting me?” She did not at all like his choice of words and hoped her tone told him as much. “You certainly take a skeptical view of things for one who has made himself exceedingly scarce in Society these past days.”

“And yet,” he said unrepentantly, “I have kept just as close an eye on Lord Tilburn as I did the day he took you for a ride in Hyde Park. The difference being this time I didn’t choose to make my surveillance known.”

A nervous flutter assaulted her stomach. “And what have you discovered with your spying?” She tried to sound less than concerned.

His gaze narrowed as he studied her a moment. “Likely nothing you haven’t already noticed yourself but I’d wager have dismissed or explained away.”

“Such as?” She couldn’t entirely retain the surety she’d had in her tone a moment earlier. She had, in fact, noticed a few things that worried her.

Adam took up the topic with no obvious hesitation. “Lord Tilburn pays you the same amount and type of attention he gives his mother, his brother, and any number of his casual social acquaintances. He keeps surprisingly busy with estate, family, and political matters for one who is neither the lord of the manor, head of the family, nor holder of the seat in Lords. A gentleman undertaking a suit generally puts a great deal of effort into it.”

Daphne swallowed down the small lump forming in her throat. “What is it you suspect him of?”

He shrugged. “Nothing in particular. I only think it odd that a man as thoughtful and meticulous as I have found him to be in the six years I’ve watched him would be so lackadaisical. His enthusiasm for any number of things is more pointed than it is for this courtship.”

She’d seen with some alarm that his attentions hadn’t grown more frequent, neither had they moved beyond the merest beginnings of a friendship. But this was James Tilburn. This was a dream coming to life. Despite her uncertainty, she wasn’t willing to give up.

She set her gaze on the empty fireplace, not able to look at Adam while she spoke aloud her worries. “You think he has changed his mind regarding me?”

“No. I think he has yet to know his own mind where you are concerned. He strikes me as a man confused.”

She felt his arm wrap around her shoulders. She pushed out a breath, days of worry and frustration escaping as she did. “What if he comes to the conclusion that I am not worth his time or energy?”

Adam gave her a squeeze. “I offered him only a single unobjected-to morning call. Yet he has come more than once. You predicted after the armed escort in the park that he would not return. Yet he has. Thus far, he has shown himself a gentleman of determination.”

“But?” She looked up at him, sensing there was more.

“But I would ask that you be careful, Daphne. Use the intelligence God blessed you with. I have no wish to see you hurt.”

She nodded. His words sobered her significantly. If he too had noted James’s inattentiveness, she had not imagined it. If only she knew the reason.

“There is something else I need you to do for me while I am gone.”

“Of course,” she said, grateful for the turn in topic.

“Take care of Persephone. I would never countenance the idea of leaving her behind if you were not with her. I know I can trust your judgment explicitly, especially as concerns her health.”

Daphne leaned her head against him. They’d sat in just that way many times over the last half dozen years, both in this book room and in his library at Falstone Castle. He was not quite the affectionate brother Evander had been, but he was far more the attentive father her own had failed to be. “I will see to it that she takes care of herself.”

“And take care of yourself as well.”

She promised she would.

“And”—an almost humorous degree of reluctant resignation entered his face and voice—“spend some time with that lordling you’re so fond of. Part of me hopes my concerns are entirely unfounded.”

Daphne smiled. “I hope they are as well. It would be nice to know you aren’t the only gentleman of my acquaintance worth knowing.”

“I will tell your brother your low opinion of him,” Adam said, standing once more.

“Linus will simply laugh.” She knew it to be true. “In fairness to him and to Harry, they both fit that mold as well.”

“I imagine your father did also before his mind slipped away.” Adam hadn’t known Father during his more lucid years. Daphne herself had only a small number of memories from the time before he began shutting them all out.

She remembered little but snatches, moments frozen in time. One common thread ran through them all. She clearly recalled her father smiling—not smiling in general, smiling at her. He would sit at his desk, studying one Greek philosopher or another, and she would sit on his lap, pretending to read as well. He would often stop his studies to tell her about the gods and goddesses who had so wholly fascinated him all of his life.

She’d been too young to still remember the details of the stories he’d told her, but she recalled with perfect clarity the feeling of being held by him and the safety she’d found there. Her father had once been a source of love and reassurance in her life. But that had been long ago, before he had grown unreachably distant. Before Daphne’s siblings had been consumed by the necessities of survival. Their departures, whether intentional or not, whether of a physical nature or an emotional one, had splintered her heart one crack at a time. Even now, despite years spent within the stable sphere of Adam’s life and home, she never entirely escaped the anxious anticipation of yet another person she loved turning her away.