Chapter Thirty-Eight

“Why do I have the feeling you are not attending to me in the least, Tilburn?” Lieutenant Lancaster’s amused comment broke through James’s abstraction. He had, in fact, been woolgathering, a seemingly constant state for him of late.

“My apologies,” he said. “I am afraid my thoughts were wandering.”

He had far too much to think on to entirely prevent such a thing. The rumors his father had started seemed to be dissipating. Society eyed him with greater respect and acceptance. He would leave in only a day’s time to begin his new “job” in Shropshire. And yet Daphne weighed more heavily on his mind than anything else.

I do want to believe you. But I have been hurt too many times. Those words hung in his mind, an unshakeable reminder that he had caused her pain and that those wounds continued undermining his efforts to win her regard. He didn’t know how to overcome that obstacle.

The lieutenant handed him a folder of papers regarding the Shropshire estate they’d been discussing for the better part of two hours. “We’ve covered most everything, I think. Adam’s man of business can answer any further questions you might have after I’ve left port.”

What must the gentleman think of his newly acquired steward if he could not focus for the space of a single interview? “I appreciate your forbearance and assure you I am not usually so easily distracted.”

Lieutenant Lancaster merely smiled. “I would not have hired you if I thought otherwise. You see, the protective older brother in me is determined to hate you for the rest of your life.” A light chuckle took the bite out of his words. “However, the fair-minded gentleman I would like to think I am beneath all that recognized long since that you are surprisingly trustworthy.”

James pushed out a breath as he slumped back in his chair. “If I can convince you of that, why can’t I seem to persuade your sister to believe as much?”

“Lud, man. Why do you think?” The lieutenant shook his head in exasperation. “She has far more to lose should she be wrong.”

James rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He’d been scrutinizing the situation night and day without coming to any sort of conclusion. Securing Daphne’s trust felt impossible, yet he knew he couldn’t live without her. What could he possibly do?

Lieutenant Lancaster muttered something unintelligible, then said, “I am going to shed the avenging brother role for a moment and give you some advice.”

James locked eyes with him. “I would be greatly indebted for any insights you’d share with me.”

“Daphne does not trust easily nor often. Life has taught her not to.” An obvious measure of sadness entered the lieutenant’s expression. “Our father began his mental decline nearly the moment our mother died. Daphne was three years old. Three. She was too young to realize the distance he placed between himself and his family had nothing to do with her. She had just lost her mother, then her father essentially abandoned her. The infant who had miraculously survived the ordeal that claimed her mother required so much attention that the rest of the family had no time for the little girl who was so lost and afraid. We could not afford to keep servants, so there was not so much as a nursemaid to offer hugs and reassurances and the most basic attention.”

James could see Daphne as a tiny girl, lonely and hurting. The image caused a sharp, throbbing ache inside. A little girl with Daphne’s expressive eyes, silently pleading for someone, anyone, to love her again. It was that vulnerable, abandoned soul he so often encountered now, the one who struggled to believe his professions of affection for fear that doing so would simply result in further suffering.

“None of us saw her pain; we were too busy trying to survive. But Evander did.” The lieutenant did not manage to hide his lingering feeling of loss. “He attempted to be older brother and friend and father figure, but he was only a child himself, really. When finances required us to leave home, Daphne grew extremely quiet—even for her. He worried about her, not in an offhand, occasional-thought sort of way but a nagging, soul-wrenching anxiety. At times when we were lying down for the night on ship, he would wonder aloud if she was well, if anyone in the family remembered to talk to her, or if she’d begun to disappear like she tended to do.”

James watched as his conversational companion visibly clamped down his rising emotion, something he’d also seen Daphne do.

The lieutenant continued. “I generally told him to quit jawing me dead and get some sleep. But his constant worry rang in my mind. He prayed for her—I heard him. And he wrote to her with fevered dedication. When he died, his last words were a plea for me to look after her.”

All words stopped as the usually composed officer, bedecked in the intimidating uniform of the Royal Navy, fought back a tear that hung at the corner of one eye. Life had dealt the Lancaster family far too many heavy blows. The realization made James want to hold Daphne near him all the more.

“Adam proved an invaluable ally,” Lieutenant Lancaster said, having regained most of his composure. “But his first loyalty has always been to Persephone, as it should be. And next in line will be his own children. Daphne knows as much, and with the arrival of the first of those children now on the horizon, she is feeling the anticipatory pain of abandonment already. She expects people to brush her aside, to forget her in a heartbeat. She sees it as evidence of her own worthlessness. Having seen her internalize so many losses, is it any wonder that when I heard of your conduct, I wanted nothing so much as to hunt you down and shoot you myself?”

James knew he would not hesitate to do so should anyone cause Daphne such pain. “I am surprised you didn’t,” he said.

“I would have,” came the calm answer. “But for one reason.” He leaned forward a bit, his gaze intensifying. “You came back. Not to make excuses, not to justify yourself or further your own interests. You came back and faced two gentlemen who would as soon run you through as listen to you because you were worried about her. And while I still loathed and despised you, I waited and watched. For the first time in Daphne’s life, someone had refused to abandon her, however unavoidable many of the previous desertions had been. If there was any chance you could be trusted, you might very well prove precisely what she needed—someone who wouldn’t walk out on her.”

“I wouldn’t.” James heard the edge of frustration in his voice. He never seemed able to convince anyone of that. What could possibly prove it true besides time? And how much of that did he have, really?

“There has never been any real security in her life, though she has had more of it with Adam,” the lieutenant said. “Daphne is not the sort of young lady for whom baubles and trinkets serve as proof that she is valued and treasured. She needs to feel safe, to feel she can depend on someone. Show her that you understand and that you value her. And whatever you do, don’t give up.”

“I hadn’t intended to.”

“Then perhaps in time, I might decide I like you, Tilburn.” A smile touched the lieutenant’s face once more, pulling an answering one to James’s.

“You might even come to call me James.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” But Lieutenant Lancaster chuckled.

She needs to feel safe. Show her you value her. He wanted her to feel safe and valued and secure. He wanted her to know she could depend on him. But how? What did he know, after all, of building healthy relationships? He’d certainly never seen any before coming to know the Duke of Kielder and the Lancaster family. He dared not hope to convince Daphne of anything beyond his sincere intention to try.