Chapter Twenty-Five
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Daphne appreciated beyond expressing that Persephone allowed her to pass the brief carriage ride back to Falstone House in complete silence.
It was a merciful gesture. She knew she would not be permitted to escape the reality of her discovery long.
And as the falling out between her and James became known, there would be questions. So many questions.
They stepped inside just as Artemis came bounding down the stairs. “London is ever so much more fun than Shropshire,” she declared, rounding the corner and disappearing toward the back of the house.
“Is His Grace home, then?” Persephone asked the butler as they were divested of their outer coats in the front entryway.
“Yes, Your Grace. In his book room.”
“Excellent.” Persephone turned to Daphne. “I do not wish to abandon you, but—”
“Please, go greet him,” Daphne said. “I know you’ve missed him.”
Persephone made her way directly toward the stairs. For the first time since Adam’s departure from London more than a week earlier, Daphne saw a genuine smile on her sister’s face.
Daphne stood in uncomfortable indecision.
Where ought she to go? How desperately she wished for her own room, her own bed to cry on.
But Adam would demand a full accounting of her situation.
She would rather not make that painful confession with her youngest sister listening in.
Delaying the inevitable struck her as decidedly illogical, even if it was understandable from an emotional perspective.
“You have done quite enough thinking with your heart of late,” she told herself.
“It is high time you remembered how to lead with your head.” Daphne nodded to herself, hoping to solidify her determination.
She did not allow the slightest slump in her posture as she followed Persephone’s path.
She reached the book room door only a moment after her sister did.
Persephone lightly rapped on the door as she slowly opened it.
“I told you, Hampton, I did not wish to be disturbed today by anyone regardless of their business with me.” Adam sounded thoroughly annoyed. That would make their coming interview all the more uncomfortable.
Persephone did not seem particularly put off by his tone. “Oh, but my business with you is of a most crucial nature,” she said from the doorway.
Adam’s head snapped up and turned in the direction of the door.
“Persephone.” He whispered the name almost as though it were a prayer.
He abandoned his papers and desk and crossed the room.
His intense gaze never left Persephone’s face.
“You”—he took her face in his hands—“are never again to remain behind when I leave Town. Ever.”
Daphne stepped back into the corridor, uncomfortable for the first time with their poignant display of affection.
She used to watch them and daydream of receiving the same tender regard.
Those moments of wishful imaginings had been easier before James had made her believe those hopes could actually become reality.
She stood against the wall beside the book room door, taking long breaths and attempting to maintain her fragile calm. Tears served no purpose anymore. The time had come to be rational.
She could hear Persephone’s voice once more. Adam had apparently concluded his greeting enough for her to speak. “I was not expecting you for several days yet.”
“You were so busy leaping from one social event to the next, you were not even here when I arrived,” Adam countered. “It does not seem to me that I was at all missed.”
Daphne inched her way back into the doorway, her heart hurting a tiny bit more at the sight of her sister and brother-in-law quite happily in one another’s arms.
“Would you like me to get back into the carriage and ride about a bit longer so you can fully appreciate my return?” Persephone’s teasing tone would normally have brought a smile to Daphne’s face.
Adam brought out a side of Persephone’s personality that was decidedly lighter than Daphne remembered seeing in all their growing-up years.
“If you so much as set one foot out of this house, I will have you locked up.” Adam, of course, sounded entirely serious. His expressions of affection were usually grumbled and, to those who did not know him well, often sounded vaguely threatening.
“You are pleased, then, to have me home?”
“Infinitely. Though the staff indicated you would not be back for a few more hours. What brought about the early return?”
Daphne squared her shoulders. She would not force Persephone to make the explanation. She took a single step inside the book room, near enough to be heard but at a distance that hid her red-rimmed eyes. “I asked that we return early.”
Adam looked away from Persephone, his gaze meeting Daphne’s. “You asked? How strange. I was half convinced I would be required to pry you away from Techney House by sheer force, considering your Lord Tilburn was there.”
She did not allow herself to so much as twinge at his excessively dry tone.
Adam did not know how deeply she’d been hurt.
Daphne did not intend to allow anyone to realize how desperately she’d wanted James to love her.
The only thing more pathetic than a girl who had never been loved was one who wrongly thought she had been.
She refused to spend the remainder of her life an object of pity.
“As the purpose of my attending the various functions at Techney House these past weeks was to further explore the possibility of a match between myself and Lord Tilburn, my presence there no longer seemed necessary.”
Adam stood beside Persephone with his arm comfortably around her waist. The two of them watched her with growing confusion and concern.
“You no longer welcome Lord Tilburn’s suit?” Persephone asked.
“It seems we would not suit after all.” She had often heard young ladies give just that explanation when a potential beau did not prove to be “the one.”
“What utter rot.” Anyone other than Adam would have rolled their eyes when using a tone of voice that so required the gesture.
He never stooped to such a thing. “Though I had my misgivings, even a simpleton could see you two suit each other better than most courting couples.” Adam’s look of disbelief spoke volumes against Daphne’s chances of escaping without being forced to provide a drawn-out explanation.
Still, she attempted to circumvent that unpleasant outcome. “As I said, we would not suit.”
He shook his head. “That argument won’t do. Try another one.”
“We really would not suit.”
Adam sat on the edge of his desk, keeping Persephone’s hand in his. “This seems a rather drastic change.”
A bit of redirection was more than called for. “I don’t imagine she has told you, but Persephone has been quite ill during your brief absence from London.”
“You were ill?” Adam was immediately consumed by this newest revelation, just as Daphne had known he would be. He cared about his sisters-in-law, but he treasured his wife. Her well-being would trump that of any other person’s on earth. “How ill? Do I need to summon a physician?”
“I consulted with one several days ago.”
That was news to Daphne. Why had she not been included? Her role in the family’s health was long established. Yet she had not been told of this latest development, one serious enough to warrant the services of a physician.
“Why was I not sent for?” The concern in Adam’s voice took some of the edge from his demanding tone.
“For the simple reason that my various complaints, while something of a misery, are not the least unusual for a woman who is soon to be a mother and need not cause concern in her husband”—her tone softened—“who is soon to be a father.”
“A father?” His brow pulled deep, his eyes searching his wife’s face. For once in all the years Daphne had known him, Adam appeared at a loss for words. “It has been seven years. I assumed—”
Persephone leaned her head against his chest. “So had I.”
Adam pulled her into an embrace, his expression equal parts awe and affection. “We’re to be parents?” he whispered.
“You are happy, then?” she asked from within the circle of his arms.
“Oh, Persephone.” The two words emerged on a shaking, quiet breath.
Daphne slipped quietly from the room. She had intended only to provide a distraction by bringing up Persephone’s illness. Instead, she had forced upon them a conversation her sister had likely hoped to undertake with more privacy.
They were to be parents. Though neither had told Daphne as much, she felt certain their hearts had broken over the past years worrying and wondering and wishing over the possibility of children.
She was deeply happy for them both. Fate meant to be kind to at least some of the members of this family, and for that she was truly grateful.
She walked down the corridor to the drawing room, knowing it would be empty and therefore quiet. She took one step inside and realized she was wrong.
A young naval officer with golden curls and familiar green eyes stood near the window, smiling at her as she walked in. Her heart flipped about in her chest. Linus had arrived at last.
“I had hoped Adam wouldn’t entirely monopolize your time,” he said with a grin. “He is only a brother-in-law, after all. My claim on your attention is certainly greater.”
“Good afternoon, Linus.”
“Good afternoon, Linus? I have been away at sea for half a year, and all I am to expect is a halfhearted Good afternoon, Linus?” He tsked and shook his head, his trademark smile never slipping. “No doubt you would have had an embrace for Evander.”
“Evander would not have teased me.” Indeed, Evander would have embraced her.
“Guilty.” Linus sighed. “Could you not spare me the slightest bit of sisterly affection—I am quite starved for it, I assure you.”
“If you are in need of overt displays of adoration, I am certain Artemis would oblige you. Such things are far more her forte than mine.”