Chapter Eighteen

By the time they reached home, Persephone appeared very nearly done in. Her complaints were of a vague nature: malaise, fatigue, a gnawing but not urgent hint of nausea. Not knowing the source of her sister’s illness, Daphne struggled to recommend a tisane or tonic to ease her suffering. In the end, she instructed Cook to prepare a ginger tea to settle Persephone’s stomach and charged Persephone’s abigail with laying a rag ever so slightly damp with warm lavender water across Persephone’s shoulders to help her relax and, Daphne hoped, sleep.

The next morning, by virtue of Artemis being in Shropshire, likely locked up in whatever makeshift version of a dungeon Adam had managed to scrounge up, and Persephone being yet asleep, thank the heavens, Daphne found herself walking about a small fenced square several blocks from their London residence, with only Fanny, the maid Adam always assigned to accompany his wife and his sisters-in-law on any and every excursion, along for company.

“You’ll forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn, Miss,” Fanny said but a few minutes into their sojourn at the park, “but that appears to be young Lord Tilburn up the path a bit.”

It was indeed James. Techney House did not sit in this square, but young gentlemen often had rooms of their own away from the family home. Did he live near here, then?

I should go bid him good morning. Surely he would welcome my company.

Or was she simply being inexcusably presumptuous? Some of her most difficult memories were of dismissals like the one she feared awaited her up ahead.

“Must you always be underfoot, Daphne?” Persephone had more than once asked in tones of exasperation.

Athena had now and then rejected Daphne’s attempts to offer help, insisting she was too little or simply making more trouble. In the years before he and Evander had left for the navy, Linus had often simply overlooked her.

Even as a very young child, she’d known her family hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, and most of their interactions were kind and loving, but those moments when she had felt so expendable resurfaced in her memory during times of doubt and worry. Though she had learned to guard herself against the possibility of dismissals by fading into the background, by being quiet and unobtrusive, she’d been trying a different approach of late, one she wanted to believe was better even if it was more of a gamble.

Being overlooked when one was hiding did not hurt nearly so much as being abandoned when one was asking to be loved.

“Do not fear, Little Sparrow,” James’s voice echoed across six years of hopeful recollections. Do not fear.

She took a fortifying breath. James had never been unkind nor outright dismissive. Surely he would not be now. But, then again, at times her own family did not always wish her nearby. Even her father, who had eventually come to shun her entirely, had not turned her away in her earliest years. Past kindness was not always a guarantee against future rejection.

His tiny mutt of a puppy, its coat a muddled mixture of browns and yellows, ran in between his feet, yelping excitedly. He didn’t kick at it nor speak harshly but simply took pains not to step on its tiny paws as he continued his slow circuit of the park.

Daphne felt a smile spread across her face. This was her James Tilburn, with his puppies and his sparrows and his inherent compassion. She squared her shoulders as a small but appreciated surge of confidence took root in her. This was a gentleman worth the risk.

He saw her a moment before she reached him. “Good morning, Miss Lancaster.” His surprise at her presence registered on his face, but she did not think he looked unhappy.

“Good morning.” Confidence, she reminded herself. “It seems you have a little admirer.” She indicated the puppy scampering about.

James gently nudged the animal with his boot. “He is certainly attached to me. I’ve not gone anywhere these past two days without him tagging along. He is actually my mother’s, but his exuberance has frayed her nerves, and he has, out of necessity, come to live with me.”

“And you are exercising him this morning?”

“I believe he is exercising me.”

“I do not wish to interrupt your efforts, especially if you are trying to undertake training. That is no simple thing.”

James smiled at her, and Daphne felt the tension in her begin to drain. “The interruption is a welcome one. Was there something in particular you needed?”

He would not be pleased to learn she had disrupted his morning for nothing more significant than a friendly conversation. “No. I merely wished to bid you good morning.”

“Oh.” James appeared genuinely surprised.

“Forgive me. I should have let you be.” She stepped back. “Forgive me.” Daphne turned quickly, escape her only thought.

“Wait, please.”

She felt him lightly touch her arm and stopped at the tingle his fingers caused.

“Your maid is here to lend propriety, and the park is a very public location. There would be no impropriety in our walking together,” he said. “Please, Daphne. Stay and walk with me a moment.”

He had called her Daphne. She could not even breathe. She had imagined hearing “Little Sparrow” again but somehow had not realized the impact of hearing her actual name on his lips.

“I do not wish to make a nuisance of myself.”

“You have not, and I doubt you ever could.” He released his hold on her enough to move to her side and offer his arm. “Take a turn about the garden with me?”

“I would like that very much.”

She hoped James didn’t notice her hand trembling as she laid it on his arm. Faced with the prospect of spending time in his exclusive company—no matter that she’d desperately wished to—intimidated her. She wanted him to like her enough to begin to love her. She wanted it so deeply she must have absolutely radiated desperation.

“I hope you do not mind an addition to our party.” James motioned to his side, where his faithful puppy trotted along looking quite pleased with itself.

“Not if you do not mind mine.” She indicated Fanny, following at a close distance.

James dipped his head to the maid. “I remember Fanny well. She was with us the day His Grace sent out the cavalry to herd us through Hyde Park.”

Fanny grinned.

James turned back to Daphne. “What brings you to this humble green? Falstone House is a good distance from this less-exalted part of town.”

“Adam procured a key to the park some years ago, after I discovered that a very rare subspecies of thyme grows here, a variety that cannot even be found at the Chelsea Physic Garden.” He had done so as a birthday present to her the year she’d turned thirteen. “I come here now and then to procure new cuttings of it.”

“I am beginning to suspect your talent as an apothecary is greater than you’ve let on,” James said. “Distinguishing between varieties of thyme is not something most people can claim to do. I, for one, am quite impressed.”

“I did learn a vast deal about various herbs growing up. We had not the means to secure the services of an apothecary, and home remedies were often our only option.”

“And you were given the role of healer? That seems rather weighty for a young child.”

She had spoken to very few people of those early years of poverty. James, however, was an intent and kind listener. She appreciated that. “I was grateful to be of use,” she said. “Being so young, I could do so little.”

“The tonics you have provided my mother have done wonders. I know I mentioned it before but feel I must again,” James said. “Though you seem determined to be humble about it, I am certain you worked very hard to learn as much as you have.”

Daphne nodded, pleased at the praise. “I enjoy it enough that it never has felt like work.” She smiled at the memory of her eager childhood self. “I used to save every coin I came across so I could buy herbs. My fondest dream at the time was to one day have myrrh.”

“Why myrrh?”

“Myrrh has astounding healing properties, but it comes very dear. I never had the means of purchasing any.”

They walked a moment in silence before he spoke again. “I suspect there is a great deal I do not know about you.”

“We have not had much opportunity to know each other.” She looked quickly up at him, hoping to gauge whether he’d taken her comment as overly forward.

“I shall have to badger you for information, then.” He creased his forehead as if in thought. “Do you throw out spots when you eat berries or have heart palpitations when reading gothic novels?”

Daphne smiled. “No to the first question.”

“And the second?”

“I have not ever read any of the offerings of the Minerva press, so I could not say how my heart would react.”

James nodded with exaggerated thoughtfulness. The puppy ran off ahead only to return again, yelping as enthusiastically as ever. “I am very nearly certain you are not afraid of dogs.”

Daphne laughed, something that pulled James’s eyes to her at once. A smile spread slowly across his face. “Did you think this ferocious beast of yours would frighten me when I have lived the past six years in a forest inhabited by wolves?”

“Wolves?” A disbelieving chuckle colored James’s tone. “There are no wolves in England.”

“Oh, but there are.” Artemis would have been proud of the theatricality of Daphne’s response.

James looked doubtful but amused.

“To be completely accurate, the pack in Falstone Forest is descended from both wolves and feral dogs. But they look like wolves, they sound like wolves, and they hunt like wolves, so we think of them that way.”

James made a noise of pondering. “It seems very fitting, does it not, that the Dangerous Duke should have a pack of wolves when no one else does?”

“Extremely fitting.”

James’s puppy ran several quick circles around her, its tail wagging happily. Daphne enjoyed watching it play, unaccountably pleased that the tiny animal liked her enough to include her in its excitement.

She was struck by how easy being with James could be. Some uncertainty about his feelings remained, but his company was not a drain on her. She didn’t need to force herself to talk to him. Few people were like that.

“Now, let us see. What else can I ask you?” He maneuvered them both around a puddle left in the path from the light morning rain. “Other than concocting lifesaving tonics, what did you enjoy as a child?”

What had she enjoyed? Her childhood had been spent under the heavy weight of loss and poverty. Happier moments were not always easy to recall. “My brother Evander wrote to me while away at sea. I always enjoyed receiving his letters.”

“Yes.” James rested his hand over hers where it sat on his arm. “You have mentioned him before. I believe you were particularly close to him.”

“I was.” The subject did not bring with it the usual level of sadness, something she likely owed to James’s comforting empathy. Still, she preferred a change of topic. “We also undertook the occasional picnic.”

“A favorite pastime from my childhood as well,” he said.

“Was it?” She liked knowing they had that in common.

“Ben and I discovered a meadow just far enough distant from the house to feel rather secluded. We would nip a few sweets from the kitchens and wile away a peaceful afternoon there.”

“Our exploits were similar. Persephone and Athena packed a meal, and we escaped at a run. Those were amongst our happiest times. We seldom had picnics after the boys joined the navy. There was too much work to be done with fewer of us there to accomplish it.”

“Have you had any at Falstone Castle?” he asked.

“We haven’t.” Daphne hadn’t ever thought of the possibility. She had arrived at Adam and Persephone’s home with those lighter times pushed far to the back of her memory.

“Would the duke allow it, do you think?”

“If Persephone wanted a picnic, he would let nothing prevent it. Schedules, inconveniences, not even the weather.”

“Not even the weather?” She loved the way he chuckled at her humor.

“The skies would not dare rain when the Duke of Kielder wished them clear.”

“And yet you describe him as a gentle and caring husband. To the rest of us, that seems an inarguable contradiction.”

“He loves her,” Daphne said. “That, I think, makes all the difference. Watching them, I have realized that contrary to popular belief, love is a rather essential ingredient in marriage.”

“Yes . . . well . . . not everyone is blessed with that.” James grew noticeably uncomfortable. “Some marriages begin on . . . on less than ideal ground.”

Did he speak of his own parents’ marriage? Daphne had noticed a marked lack of tenderness between Lord and Lady Techney.

“But not all marriages must begin with love,” Daphne said. “So long as there is affection and mutual kindness. And, of course, trust.”

“That, no doubt, is what you’ve always wanted in a marriage.”

Her heart seemed to stop a moment when the significance of the topic sank in. They were discussing marriage. Not their marriage, but it still felt like a step in a more serious direction. “Yes,” she said, knowing her voice had lost a great deal of its volume. “Affection and kindness are needed in any marriage. Trust, I think, is especially important. A marriage cannot last if it is based on dishonesty or deception. I have always thought that essential to any kind of happiness.”

A moment passed before James spoke quietly into the silence. “So have I.”