Chapter Twelve #2
The door of their shared dressing room had opened not long after Daphne had retired for the night.
Artemis’s dancing, spinning entrance had quickly given way to an excessively emotive discussion—on Artemis’s part—of James’s hypothetical feelings for her.
Under normal circumstances, Daphne would have shooed her from her bedchamber.
James’s feelings, however, were too much of a mystery and far too important to forgo the opportunity to hear another opinion.
“Likes, however, is a far cry from loves,” Daphne pointed out.
“Not so very far.” Artemis spoke as though from great experience.
Still lying on her back, she held her hands up, counting off on her fingers.
“‘Notices’ comes first, followed by ‘is interested in.’ Then comes ‘likes.’ Then ‘thoroughly likes.’ Next is ‘desperately likes.’ Then the only step left is ‘loves.’” Artemis clasped her hands together and allowed them to sink back down against her heart.
She sighed rather too loudly. “You are only two steps from ‘loves,’ Daphne.”
“And you obtained this information from where? A novel?” Daphne knew enough of Artemis’s reading habits and daydreaming tendencies to put very little faith in her declarations of expertise.
Artemis turned on her side, propping herself up on her elbow and looking at Daphne with absolute conviction. “Novels are the very best place to look for this sort of thing. The heroines are always finding themselves the object of affection from a dashing hero.”
“Aren’t these the same heroines you declared do not always survive their amorous adventures?”
“Only the truly tragic ones.”
Daphne leaned back against the pillows piled at the head of her bed. “I believe you said only this morning that I was poised to be a tragic heroine.”
Artemis crinkled her nose. “Persephone is proving far more tragic. She hardly ate a morsel at dinner, seldom spoke, and it was she, not Adam, who wished to leave the dinner early.” Artemis executed another highly dramatic drop onto her back.
“’Tis a shame those closest to the tragic heroine always suffer as well.
And they are less likely to survive all the way to the final page. ”
“You are not fooling me in the least. You were more anxious than anyone to leave the dinner this evening.”
“Only because everyone treated me like a child.” Artemis’s pout lasted only a moment before a flash of something resembling an epiphany crossed her features.
That look had always preceded a disastrous plan of some kind or another.
Daphne braced herself for her sister’s next words.
“If you would only hurry and get married, I could have my come-out, and then I would not be looked at like I’d only just arrived from the nursery. ”
“You say that as if getting oneself married were as simple as selecting fabric at a dressmakers.”
Artemis shifted to a seated position, her eyes growing larger with obvious excitement. “But you are a mere two steps from ‘love.’ A little effort and you could get there quickly.”
Daphne shook her head. “These schemes you are hatching will do you no good. For one thing, Lord Tilburn and I have been acquainted for only a couple of weeks, hardly enough time to be scheming as deeply as you are. For another thing, you are only fifteen. Adam will not agree to a come-out while you are still so young.”
A dismissive wave of the hand clearly communicated Artemis’s feelings about Daphne’s logic. “Adam has been desperate to be rid of the lot of us for years.”
Obviously Artemis did not know their brother-in-law very well. Though he often grumbled about his responsibilities as a guardian, he cared more for them than he let on.
Daphne had been rather afraid of her formidable brother-in-law when she’d first come to live with him.
She had taken solace in the assumption that she would be as overlooked in his home as she had been in her own.
Her family loved her—she didn’t doubt that—but when she was little, she often went days at a time without any of them paying her much heed.
Only Evander, her oldest brother, had regularly thought to check on her when the silence had stretched out.
Adam, however, had surprised her. He had noticed when she was particularly withdrawn. He had never permitted long periods of self-pity. He had welcomed her company, had even sought it out. In his home, she no longer felt so disposable.
“We could do this, Daphne. Two steps is not so very large a leap.” Artemis’s thoughts had not strayed far. “Lord and Lady Techney certainly would not have invited us to dine with their family if Lord Tilburn weren’t at least leaning in the direction of an earnest courtship.”
Good heavens, the girl looked ready to burst with excitement. The last thing Daphne wanted was to be Artemis’s latest project.
“Persephone’s abigail could fix up your hair—your Eliza prefers styles that are far too simple. And you could borrow that paisley shawl I pestered Adam into buying me—”
“I appreciate your offer of help”—the white lie seemed entirely necessary—“but I would far prefer to leave things as they are.”
“You mean you would prefer to not draw attention to yourself.” Artemis clearly disapproved of that notion. “If Lord Tilburn doesn’t notice you, how can you expect him to ever move past ‘liking’ you? There is a reason gentlemen do not fall in love with the furniture.”
The comparison was not particularly flattering.
Daphne wanted to believe she had made more of an impression that evening than Artemis insinuated.
She had forced herself to join in the conversation with the Tilburn brothers.
After her initial moment of timidity, she had found them remarkably easy to talk with.
Lord Techney, however, was not. His visage never wavered from stern, his tone of voice always a mixture of overdone civility and arrogance.
She had overcome her discomfort with Adam once upon a time and hoped the same would occur with James’s father.
Artemis rose from the bed and leaned against the bedpost in a pose that would not have been out of place in a painting of some epic tragedy.
“When Lord Tilburn begins to grow bored with you and you realize that leaving things as they are is not enough to make you stand out in the crowd, I will be more than happy to help.” She sighed rather loudly.
“I will be in the nursery, pining away and suffering.”
Daphne shook her head as Artemis left the bedchamber. She would have far preferred to have Persephone offer advice. Their oldest sister, however, had seemed a touch worn out that evening. Daphne didn’t want to bother her if she was unwell.
She blew out the candle and settled in under her blankets. Though she wanted to entirely discount Artemis’s warnings, Daphne found the words would not leave her thoughts.
When Lord Tilburn grows bored with you . . .
Not enough to make you stand out in the crowd . . .
Daphne never had stood out, never had garnered notice. The smallest of knots began to form in her stomach. James didn’t overlook her as nearly everyone else did. He had noticed her as a child and again now that she was grown. He did not so readily dismiss her from his thoughts. Not yet, at least.
“All will be well,” she told herself. But deep inside, a hint of doubt remained.