Chapter Five

Daphne slowly released a breath, willing the tension to ease from her shoulders. She would never forgive herself if she ruined this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity by being too nervous to enjoy even a moment of it. Perhaps if she thought of him as James instead of both names together, he would seem less intimidating, different somehow from the imaginary gentleman she’d thought of so often during the past half dozen years.

He broke the silence between them. “Has your sojourn in London been pleasant thus far?”

Her voice stuck in her throat a moment when she turned to look at him. His eyes focused ahead as he carefully drove the carriage toward the park. Even in profile, she thought him the handsomest man of her acquaintance.

Stop being a gudgeon, she told herself. What a ridiculous person she must seem, entirely unable to speak a coherent sentence. Was it any wonder she’d sunk under the weight of her come-out?

“The warmer weather of Town is . . . is a welcome change after the long winters of Northumberland,” she said.

Had her very first sentence really been a comment on the weather, and a broken, inarticulate one at that? He was bound to think her an imbecile now.

“Lancashire is not particularly warm during the winter months either.”

He hadn’t laughed at her. That was encouraging.

“You seem to prefer Lancashire to London.” That was a better topic of discussion. He would at the very least realize she had paid attention during their conversation the day before. And the comment had emerged whole. That was an accomplishment.

A moment passed before he replied, his attention focused on maneuvering the carriage around a cart on one side of the street and a carriage moving in the opposite direction on the other. The vendor who tended the cart watched them rather closely as they passed. A touch too closely, in fact.

“My mother’s health has been poor for many years,” he said when they had successfully passed the obstacles. “I worry for her when I am away. Likewise, my brother remains on his estate a great deal of the time—also in Lancashire—and I sorely miss his company while I am in Town.”

A note of longing threaded through his words. Daphne glanced at him as they continued at a subdued pace. She understood loneliness. Perhaps he would appreciate knowing she did. She was not, however, ready to confess that she felt alone most of the time. Her father had begun rejecting her company when she was still very young. She had tried again and again to convince him to allow her a space in his life, but to no avail. One did not endure such personal and repeated dismissals without a great many scars. She would not, however, speak of that. His opinion of her would be rendered decidedly low if he knew her own father had not cared overly much for her. An accounting of her siblings was a far safer topic.

“My sister Athena and her family do not come to—They do not travel from their home often,” she said, “and I miss my brothers as well.”

“I did not realize you had brothers.” James glanced briefly at her before returning his attention to the increasingly busy street.

She nodded. “Linus is in the navy.”

He looked over at her once more, his gaze lingering.

She had to turn her gaze away, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He would probably like her better if he did not study her overly much.

“You said you had brothers. How many others are there?” he asked.

“One other: Evander. He—” Her throat closed up a touch. Speaking of her siblings had not proven a harmless subject after all. Thoughts of Evander did not always affect her as they had in the first few years after Trafalgar. What a time for her emotions to take hold once more. She prayed her voice would remain level. “He was killed at the Battle of Trafalgar.” Her voice broke as she forced out the word killed.

Evander had meant the world to her. Of all the members of her family, only he had never been too busy to notice a lonely child desperate for affection. After leaving for the navy, he had regularly sent her letters in addition to those addressed to the family as a whole. She had lived for those letters. She would read them again and again until the creases wore through. He had been her reassurance that she mattered to someone. His death had torn her to pieces, fragments of which remained unhealed and broken still.

“I am sorry for your loss,” James said.

Dear heavens, she was very nearly crying in front of James Tilburn. What a ridiculous impression she must have been making. Not only could she not seem to produce an unbroken sentence, but she was turning into a watering pot too. “Forgive me.” She blinked away a tear threatening to form in her eyes. “I do not always grow so emotional when speaking of him.”

“I assure you, Miss Lancaster, there is nothing to forgive. Were I, heaven forbid, to lose my brother, I doubt I would ever fully recover.”

James carefully tooled his way into the mad crush of carriages and horses descending on Hyde Park. The outing had not yet proven disastrous. She was keeping up her end of a conversation. He did not seem utterly bored with her. A smile tugged at Daphne’s lips even as she felt warmth creep into her cheeks.

She had worried for hours on end over the reason for James’s call the day before. Adam, she feared, had forced the call despite insisting he’d merely suggested it. But James didn’t act like someone being bullied into spending time with a young lady. He’d asked her to take a ride with him without any noticeable prodding from her brother-in-law. She had reason to hope James enjoyed her company.

“Hyde Park is busy this afternoon,” he said. “A sure sign the Season has truly begun.”

Daphne nodded, glancing around at the others who had ventured out for the promenade. “I have never been at the park during the fashionable hour. My sister and brother-in-law prefer to avoid crowds.”

“I cannot say I blame them. With the Season in full swing, the madness of this undertaking boggles the mind.”

Daphne would gladly endure even the most crowded days in the park simply to sit beside James Tilburn as she was. She’d wanted for so long to know him better. “Do you often come for the promenade?”

He nodded. “Often enough to know that this is Mrs. Bower and her daughter approaching in their carriage. Have you met them?”

Daphne’s pulse quickened dreadfully, as it always did at the prospect of meeting new people. “I have not.”

“I would be happy to make the introduction, if you would like. This is also Miss Bower’s first Season, and I believe the two of you are of an age.”

Her first inclination was a quick and decided refusal. But that would make her even more ridiculous than she likely seemed, having admitted to never before entering Hyde Park during the daily crush. “Yes, please,” she managed with some degree of believability.

He brought the carriage to a very gentle stop. The approaching carriage did the same. A matron in a bonnet with so wide a brim as to cover her face entirely sat on the far end. Closer to James’s carriage sat a young lady who looked shockingly like two of Daphne’s sisters: flawless complexion, beautiful golden curls, and a figure that would have inspired even the pickiest of sculptors. How horribly dowdy Daphne must have appeared in comparison, with her drab-brown hair and alarmingly colorless complexion. She had a figure, but only just.

“Miss Lancaster,” James began the introductions, “may I make known to you Mrs. Bower and Miss Bower.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” she offered.

“Mrs. Bower, Miss Bower, may I present Miss Lancaster, sister of the Duchess of Kielder.”

That never failed to both impress and terrify people. Miss Bower’s eyes widened, though in a way that somehow only made her more pretty. Her mother’s may very well have done the same, but her face was not visible.

“Lord Tilburn,” Mrs. Bower said, “I did not realize you were at all connected to Her Grace’s family.”

“The duke and I belong to the same political party and the same club,” he said. “Now that Miss Lancaster has made her bows, I am pleased to be given the opportunity of knowing her better.”

Daphne recognized it for the polite explanation it was but cherished it just the same. She hoped he really was pleased at the acquaintance. She herself was elated.

The same scenario repeated a few times. Some of the individuals they spoke with were already known to her; others were new acquaintances. Some of her trepidation over the coming Season abated over the course of their ride. She would recognize a few faces in the crowd, at least.

They had completed half a circuit of the park when a rider on horseback slipped into her line of vision, keeping pace with James’s carriage. Though she did not see the rider’s face, Daphne felt certain she knew him. She attempted to watch the stranger surreptitiously.

“I did not wish to alarm you,” James said, “but that man has been following us for some time, hovering nearby every time we have paused to greet someone.”

The man in question looked very briefly in their direction. That fleeting glimpse was enough to identify him.

“Good heavens,” Daphne whispered. Her face heated in an instant. She might as well confess. “That is Johnny from the stables.”

“One of your stable hands?”

“Yes.”

“And does the man on the horse just ahead of us look familiar as well?” James asked. “He has done a remarkable job of following us, considering he is in front and not behind.”

Though she could not see who was riding, Daphne knew the horse. Fanny’s barely veiled look of guilt told Daphne her growing suspicions were entirely accurate.

“How many others are there?” Daphne asked under her breath.

Fanny hesitated. Slowly she raised both hands.

“Seven?” Daphne’s shock added unintended volume to her words.

She turned her face forward, keeping her expression neutral by sheer willpower. Adam was having them followed? A maid in the carriage was to be expected if a young lady did not have a mother or sister or companion with her, but to commission the entire stable staff to keep an eye on them was the outside of enough. She began calculating in her head. The two mounted men. She suspected the “vendor” they’d passed earlier was likewise a spy Adam had sent. Four others lingered somewhere in the vicinity.

“This is a decidedly new experience for me,” James said. “I have driven out with young ladies on any number of occasions but have never once been stalked.”

Humiliation closed swiftly in on Daphne. She refused to break down in front of him twice in the course of a single carriage ride. Yet her embarrassment threatened to overcome every effort to conceal it.

“I am sorry,” she managed to say.

An awkward and heavy silence fell between them.

The tiny tiger perched on the back of the carriage in front of them glanced back at them a few times. By the second look, Daphne recognized the Falstone House knife boy.

“A flower for your lady?”

Daphne turned at the sound of a voice thick with a lower-class London accent. A girl, probably only a year or two younger than herself, held up an assortment of nosegays as she kept pace with the slow-moving carriage. Hyde Park traffic never was likely to set any speed records during the busiest times of the Season.

“As much as I would like to give the lady a flower,” James said, “I do not dare allow my horses the opportunity to run off with us by giving them less than all my attention.”

The girl nodded in approval. Daphne very nearly rolled her eyes. No sooner had the flower seller slid back from the carriage than James turned questioning eyes to Daphne.

She sighed. “She is a chambermaid at Falstone House.”

“If my calculations are correct, we have identified all but two of your brother-in-law’s henchmen.” His teasing tone fell just the slightest bit flat, as though he were earnestly attempting to find the situation humorous. “Perhaps one of them was hiding beneath Mrs. Bower’s bonnet.”

If she hadn’t been absolutely mortified, she likely would have laughed at the very amusing observation.

The remainder of the ride passed in relative silence. They stopped a small number of times, James making introductions and striking up quick, innocuous conversations with the people he knew. But between visits, he kept quiet. Daphne’s face never fully cooled.

They returned to Falstone House, an entire entourage of mounted groomsmen arriving at the same time they did. James assisted her from the carriage and walked with her to the door. His stiff posture and stoic silence starkly contrasted his earlier easy demeanor.

Adam and Persephone were both sitting in the drawing room when James escorted her there. “I have returned Miss Lancaster unharmed, as requested,” he said.

Adam’s gaze turned to Fanny standing just behind them. His look of inquiry received an “I’ve nothin’ to report, Your Grace” from the maid.

“You’re free to go,” Adam said, looking entirely unrepentant about receiving a report on James’s actions with him still in the room.

James bowed civilly. “Miss Lancaster, it has been a pleasure.”

She stood still, not moving from the spot. He no longer smiled at her. His manner had become distant, formal.

“Thank you.” Her words hardly broke a whisper.

James left with little beyond the barest words of farewell.

“Did you have a nice ride?” Persephone asked after he was gone.

The last thing she wanted was to rehash the disaster that had been her one and only drive with a gentleman at the fashionable hour. “It began well.” To offer anything more positive than that would not have been entirely honest—quite dishonest, in fact.

“What did Tilburn do?” Adam’s lips pursed in the way they did whenever his cousin George came up in conversation. He thoroughly disliked his cousin. Apparently he felt similarly about Lord Tilburn.

“He was a perfect gentleman, and very tolerant, as I am certain your army of spies will assure you once they make their various reports.” Daphne sat in a nearby chair, striking a very unladylike, slumped posture. She’d imagined so many times driving out with James Tilburn, but never in all her imaginings had the outing ended so disappointingly.

“Spies?” Adam managed to sound almost as if he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Over the course of the ride, we crossed paths with a veritable horde of staff from this house, all under instructions to follow Lord Tilburn’s carriage.”

Persephone turned to her husband. “You had them followed?”

“Merely precautionary.” Adam’s unshakable confidence seldom grated on Daphne the way it did in that moment.

“You do not trust Lord Tilburn?” Persephone asked.

“I did not say that.”

“Then you do not trust me,” Daphne surmised.

“I most certainly did not say that.”

Persephone seemed genuinely confused. “Then why the armed guard?”

“Only two of them were actually armed.”

Daphne dropped her head into her open palm. An armed guard. Was it not clear to him how slim her chances were of enjoying any degree of social success? A strikingly beautiful young lady or one who conversed easily or possessed obvious accomplishments might be worth enduring such treatment. The gentlemen of Society would never make such an effort for a plain, quiet girl who could claim little talent beyond a knowledge of home remedies and the ability to go unnoticed for hours on end.

“Oh, my dear Adam.” A laugh touched Persephone’s words. How could she, Daphne’s own sister, find this amusing? “Were you attempting to test his mettle?”

“Only offering a friendly warning.”

“Friendly?” That brought Persephone’s laugh entirely to the surface.

Daphne didn’t find the conversation funny in the least, though it did explain something she’d wondered about. “You meant for Lord Tilburn to realize the extent of your ability to keep an eye on him?”

“Believe me, Daphne, if I had wanted my efforts to go unnoticed, they would have.”

She shook her head and could not for a moment formulate a response. He’d embarrassed her on purpose. He’d likely driven James away and still remained entirely unrepentant about it. “You realize, don’t you, he’ll probably never come back.”

Adam crossed his arms in front of him, his stance of choice when feeling particularly impatient. “If he is such a lily-livered, kitten-hearted coward, he is hardly worth your time.”

Daphne returned Adam’s look of annoyance with a dry look of her own. “So I should turn my attention to the dozens of eager gentlemen waiting to take his place?”

“You have admitted defeat before the Season has even begun. There will be dozens of gentlemen, though you obviously believe otherwise,” Persephone insisted.

Adam’s expression only grew more cloudy.

“How many gentlemen do you know, Persephone, who would endure this kind of treatment?”

“I can think of one—he married our sister.” Persephone gave her a pointed look.

“Harry is the universal exception to every rule,” Daphne said. “And he wasn’t Athena’s only option.”

Persephone was undeterred. “Then let me suggest you wait and see if Lord Tilburn is every bit as exceptional as our dear Harry. If he comes back despite your well-meaning guardian’s tactics, that would be a very good sign. And I would, once again, insist you not decide before your Season even begins that you are going to be an abysmal failure.”

Daphne nodded, recognizing her sister’s wisdom. They’d taken that approach often during the years they’d gone without the luxury of funds to cover even some of their most basic needs. “No use borrowing trouble” had been Daphne’s favorite version of their oft-repeated family motto. If a childhood spent in poverty had taught her anything, it was the sustaining power of seemingly naive optimism.

So long as there remained a chance that James would come back, Daphne would allow herself to hope that tiny bit.

And tiny it was, indeed. For James had shown no inclination to return.