Chapter Thirty-Four #2
“Of course you would have,” she said, pain piercing her anew. “You were required to return. You were forced to remember me.”
“Things may have begun that way,” he said, “but as I came to know you better, I continued my courtship, not because I was required to but because I wished to. I returned eagerly, willingly.”
“But not honestly.” She was not certain he was being entirely honest with her now.
“I can make no justification for my lack of integrity,” he said, “nor will I try. I might have been cajoled into that first meeting, but I was not coerced into all of them.”
Into all of them. That was not at all comforting; neither was the realization that he had no recollection of a moment that had altered her life.
“The call you paid at our at-home all those weeks ago was not our first meeting.” She saw confusion in his eyes.
Confession seemed the best course of action.
“We first met six years ago,” she told him.
“I was hiding on the terrace during my sister’s come-out ball, spying on the festivities through the windows.
You caught me there but kept my secret. Your kindness to a terribly timid little girl stayed with me long after that night.
But on the few occasions afterward when our paths crossed, the complete lack of recognition in your expression told me as nothing else could that you had utterly forgotten me, just as everyone else does. Just as everyone always does.”
What had possessed her to confess so much to him? Daphne had told no one of her encounter with James Tilburn on the Falstone House terrace. If James did not already think her entirely pathetic, he most certainly would after hearing her history.
It was not pity, however, that she saw enter his eyes. His gaze as it reflected back at her from the mirror appeared very nearly amazed. “Your hair hung in two long braids, and you wore the frilliest nightdress I could possibly have imagined.”
Daphne’s breathing came to a sudden halt. Did he actually remember?
“You were a study in contradictions.” James watched her intently.
“You were so tiny, no larger, I thought at the time, than a girl of eight or nine, yet you acted older despite your timidity. You seemed terrified to so much as speak, yet you were defying the Dangerous Duke’s demands in order to snatch a peek at the ball. ”
Good heavens, he did remember.
“I never could be entirely sure of your age, which is likely one reason I did not recognize you in the light of day, but I assure you I recall that meeting. I told my brother about you, and I thought of that little girl often over the years.”
“You did?” Her amazement rendered the question almost breathless.
He nodded. “I never learned your name or your exact connection to His Grace. None of the duchess’s sisters appeared to be the right age.
I assumed that little girl was a distant cousin and never did inquire further.
” The confession brought a crease of worry to his brow.
“The only excuse I can make for myself is that I was young and still a little too flighty and preoccupied with my own worries. But I told Ben of a little girl who reminded me of a determined little sparrow who sought her freedom even in the face of oppression.”
Daphne’s breath caught in her lungs. Little Sparrow. How she had longed to hear him say that again.
He shifted beside her. Daphne’s gaze remained glued to him. Was he leaving?
James stepped in front of her and brushed his hand along her cheek. Daphne very nearly held her breath, the touch unexpected and pleasantly unsettling.
“All these years,” James said, still standing near her but no longer touching her face. “I’ve wondered what happened to that little girl. I ought to have realized. You have the same brown eyes. More to the point, you have the same bravery—something both my brother and I envied in that quiet child.”
“I have never been very brave,” Daphne said. Had not Adam told her himself she had acted unforgivably fainthearted?
James took her face in his hands. “You taught me how to be courageous, both then and now.” A curious trembling began in her middle at the feel of his hands on her face.
His words somehow penetrated her increasingly fuzzy thoughts.
“And you have shown me how to be kind, how to care for my family without being taken advantage of. You have shown me what it means to be good and worthy. Though I most certainly do not deserve your regard, I intend to try to win it.”
“You did not actually want my regard but were forced into pursuing it.” It pained her to bring the topic up once more, but she was so confused. She had no idea what to think or believe.
“As I was reminded recently, Apollo was a thick-witted buffoon.” His hands slipped from her face to her shoulders, though his eyes didn’t leave hers. “His Daphne never did know the sincerity of his regard, but I am determined that my Daphne will.”
Her breath caught, the unexpelled air pulsing in rhythm with her pounding heart. “Your Daphne?”
“The duke would likely chain me up in the attics for being so presumptuous.” He made as if to pull away.
Daphne took hold of the sleeve of his frock coat. “Your Daphne?”
He stepped in close once more, his voice low and intimate. “I mean to do all I can, dearest Daphne, to prove myself worthy of being yours and of calling you mine.”
Fear warred with hope. “You are asking a lot of me, James,” she whispered.
A sigh of relief escaped his lips. “You called me James.”
She bit down a smile. “Have you missed that?”
“I have missed you.”
“I am here now,” she said.
She heard his thick swallow, then his shaky breath. “Daphne.” Her name was a plea on his lips. “Tell me I am to have another chance.”
“I do not trust easily,” she warned.
He nodded. “And you have ample reason to doubt me.” He looked so worried, so heartbroken.
She reached out and touched his forlorn face. “But you are also giving me reason to believe, however tentatively.”
He closed his eyes. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “I will not squander this opportunity,” he vowed.
“Neither will I.” An unexpected surge of bravery overtook her.
She rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
His arms wrapped around her on the instant.
His hands splayed on her back, holding her close to him.
She turned her head the tiniest bit, facing him directly. A scant breath separated them.
He bent slowly toward her. All thoughts fled but one: James Tilburn was going to kiss her.
The lightest touch of his lips on hers sent her pulse racing. She clung to him, not wanting the moment to end.
But she heard the front door open just out of sight of where they stood. James must have noticed the sound as well. He stepped away from her a bit.
Very purposeful footfalls preceded the arrival of both Adam and Linus, neither looking particularly pleased.
Adam’s gaze settled on James. “Tilburn.”
“Your Grace,” James acknowledged, the smallest bit of worry in his tone.
“We”—Adam indicated Linus with a slight lift of his head—“have just had a most interesting conversation.”
Adam did tend toward cryptic explanations in favor of useful ones, especially when he was displeased. Daphne turned to Linus, hoping for more information.
He did not disappoint. To James he said, “Your father is a parasite.”