She needed something to do. Right now.
“This is absolutely horrid,” Victoria complained, flinging her body onto the bed. “We’ve never been apart, Daphne. Not once. I won’t survive this separation.”
“It won’t be forever, Vicky,” Daphne reassured her twin—and herself. Who really knew how long or how intensely Briarwood’s obsession would last? “Briarwood simply needs to get tired of this game.”
“Ah,” Victoria snorted. “Briarwood will find a new victim. When he decides to corner some other young lady, you can return to Society. Then, hopefully, you will be able to snag the attention of an honorable man—one who does not leer at you from across the room and…” Her words trailed away as her shoulders shuddered. “Oh, I do wish that Lord Briarwood was the one to leave. I imagine I’m not the only person who would prefer it ifhewere no longer a member of polite Society. Polite is not even close to what he is. The word must mean very little to a man like him.”
“You make it seem as if I am abandoning you, Vicky,” Daphne teased, even as a knot of despair formed in her chest.
Victoria was right. They had never been apart. She had never entertained the possibility of it ever happening.
“You are,” Victoria said, with a small, sad smile. “Even though I see the prudence in your departure, I cannot help but feel as if you are flitting away into the countryside, while I must remain here with Daniel and Mama.”
“Ah. Now, I’m fully understanding. I will be leaving you to Mother’s fussing,” Daphne remarked. The wry thought twisted her mouth into something like a smile. “That does, indeed, seem like a heavy burden, especially if you’ll be alone with her.”
“I shall bear it,” Victoria said, finally smiling for real. “But since I’ll be handling all of Mother’s whims and fancies in your absence, you owe me a big favor.”
Daphne knew that it was a mere jest. Victoria, even though she was her opposite, would do anything to defend her. Tears were threatening to form once more, as guilt took over.
“I hate that you must serve as my shield, Vicky.”
“I know, but don’t,” her twin said, rising from her bed and pulling her into a tight embrace. It was fierce, like the goodbye that neither of them wanted. “You know that I will do anything to ensure your safety, including tolerating Mother and hermaniacal matchmaking propositions. I know she probably will not appreciate the fact I will be the one who is left behind. I don’t tolerate her as well as you do.”
“I will come back to you as soon as it is possible.” Daphne swallowed down her emotions because she knew she owed her sister a promise. “I will do my best to keep safe,” Daphne vowed, even as she wondered at the veracity of her words.
She clung back to Victoria, inhaling her sister’s scent and committing it to memory.
Since they had debuted, both young ladies had known that one day, they should be forced to part from one another. But—in those dreams, they were going to live with their husbands, men they had chosen to love and spend the rest of their days adoring. To be torn asunder from Victoria under these circumstances—because a man, a horrible, insufferable scoundrel, had developed an awful obsession—was almost inconceivable.
Daphne choked back a sob that built inside her. She had put on a brave face for the others, but now, a seed of doubt nestled and her bosom and refused to dislodge.
What if I never see Victoria again?
The thought sent her heart hammering and Daphne clung to Victoria tighter. No matter what happened, she would find her way back to her sister.
Then, a worse scenario occurred to her.
What if I never escape Briarwood’s clutches?
Chapter Three
“Good day,” Adrian said, his voice as cold as usual, as he didn’t really see what was good about the day.
The man standing directly in front of him took off his cap and inclined his bald head deferentially. Sidestepping this obstacle, Adrian crossed the threshold and inhaled the atmosphere which smelled of pine needles, ale, and stale tobacco smoke.
Voices hushed as soon as Adrian Falkner, Duke of Wolfcrest, entered the notorious White Hart Inn. He was very much aware of the sounds dying down as he arrived. He was used to this sort of reaction to his presence.
Today, like many other days, he had to deal with various queries and complaints. Tradesmen and tenants alike were waiting for him along an oak table, wondering what his decisions would be like.
Adrian bit back a sigh of resignation.
All his days were filled with just this sort of tedium. No one ever came to him with a unique quandary. Townsfolks always bowed, shuffled their feet, and went silent as he approached. Even when he walked into a room where he had been hundreds of times in the past, people treated him as though he was a supernatural being—worthy of their notice, but also the source of their wide-eyed terror.
As he drew nearer to the table where a group of his tenants were clustered a murmur of greetings sent back to him by some of the village’s wealthiest men. Adrian knew he was about to meet with men who were used to earning large profits in their various businesses, which included parlors and taverns. He watched them intently, knowing how he always managed to produce an effect on all of them.
The coldness he displayed was not intentional. He knew he ought to treat them with respect and, at the very least, show some signs of cordiality, but his thoughts and feelings were at war with one another. He simply didn’t like most of these men, and his abhorrence for them showed.
“Good day, Your Grace,” called one gentleman at the end of the table. The fellow bobbed his head as a show of kindness.
