She glanced at her brother, who pursed his lips and nodded.
“If that is what you wish, sister. But I want you to know that I will stand beside you, no matter what,” Daniel said, rubbing a hand over his face.
Daphne could understand the pressure her brother had given himself in trying to protect her and Victoria.
“It is what I want, brother,” she assured him and Daniel sighed.
“All right, then. Your Grace, about the marriage contract?—”
“I’ll secure a special license so we can marry as soon as possible,” the Duke said firmly, cutting Daniel off. “Best to leave no room for delay or doubt. We’ll marry in London.”
Daniel blinked, clearly taken aback but nodded. “I agree. Haste is in our favor.”
“Good. I will send some of my men with you to guard you on your journey back to town, and to keep watch over your home until the wedding. They are trained, capable… and discreet.”
Daphne’s attention sharpened at the wordtrained.
What did that mean?
“Trained?” she parroted, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.
For the first time, the Duke hesitated. It was barely noticeable, a flicker behind his otherwise steady gaze, but it was enough to stir her curiosity.
“My success has made me some enemies, that is all,” he said with a shrug, as though it explained everything. Daphne could sense he was keeping secrets and that there was much more to his story than he let on.
He turned back to Daniel, issuing instructions with a calm authority that brooked no argument. “Make sure your family members are aware of the threat posed by Briarwood. Someone should also write to inform them immediately of these developments. They will benefit from extra vigilance until the wedding.”
The kitchen door swung open.
Daphne realized, only then, that the Nicholsons had left them to confer and had now returned with a silver tray. Both the reverend and his wife were smiling, innocent and bright. They had not dared to intrude during the planning session.
Plans that would entangle Daphne’s life far more than she liked.
“Tea for the happy couple!” Mrs. Nicholson announced in a cheerful tone. “And for you as well, Lord Grisham.”
Daphne forced a smile, taking the cup in her hands. Her heart, however, remained tight in her chest.
Every detail—the men, the secrecy, the Duke’s guarded words—echoed in her mind. She could not yet decide whether to feel relief or apprehension.
Perhaps she might indulge and allow herself to experience both in equal measures.
“You are certainly most kind, madam,” the Duke praised, his composure back in its full glory. He bowed, and said, “Unfortunately, I must excuse myself, for urgent matters necessitate me to leave immediately. I will send a carriage for both of you on our wedding day, Reverend. Your lodgings for that night will also be in order. I wouldn’t want you to miss the day.”
Daphne could not help but savor that one moment when the Duke showed some weakness.
“Your Grace, how delightful!” Mrs. Nicholson exclaimed.
Finally, the Duke of Wolfcrest turned to Daphne, lifted her hand, and pressed his lips to her knuckles.
She shivered, a tremor running through her.
“Until we meet again, my betrothed,” he murmured.
The contact lasted no more than a heartbeat, yet the air between them seemed to shift. Her chest tightened in a way she could neither name nor control.
What was it about this man that unsettled her so?
Then he was gone, leaving as silently as he had entered, like a dream slipping from memory. The door closed gently behind him, a stark contrast to the abruptness of the Earl’s departure. In his wake the Duke left behind the fresh scent of rain and cedar, stubborn and vivid, wrapping around her senses long after he had vanished.
