Hector, Wilhelmina’s husband’s son with his first wife, lifted an eyebrow at the sight of Adrian. Daphne knew his inquisitive nature. The boy immediately launched at her.
“You’ve probably heard about a missing garden snake,” he began breathlessly.
“I believe that is something you can tell your aunt another day,” Wilhelmina gently reminded her stepson.
“Oh, I don’t mind it at all, Mina. Your son is absolutely a charmer, and I’ve missed him,” Daphne said, placing her hand on Hector’s cheek.
“I think my mother is right, aunt. My stories will certainly take more time.”
“More than the usual in these gatherings?” Daphne asked teasingly.
The boy merely nodded enthusiastically as she laughed. The tension that was building within her had somehow eased. With her nieces and nephews, she just might forget about all her societal responsibilities.
In the corner of her eye, she noticed how stiff her husband looked as he endured conversation with her brothers-in-law. She could not blame him. Her family did not seem to have warmed up to him yet. His polite detachment did not help either. He did make small conversation as he was courteous before excusing himself. He looked like he could not wait until he could run out of the ballroom and be somewhere else.
“I believe I see my friend, the Marquess of Amberwell, across the room,” Adrian murmured. “I must talk to him on a matter of business. Enjoy your time with your family, Duchess.”
The Duke squeezed her hand. On the outside, it looked like a husband comforting his wife. However, Daphne knew and felt it for what it was. It was a gesture that did not carry any warmth.
When he was out of earshot, Marianne, her eldest sister, pulled Daphne close to her.
“I must speak to you privately, sister,” she whispered. “Let us take a turn about the room. There are a few things I need to know, such as what happened to you when you were sequestered at Wolfcrest.”
“Sequestered?” Daphne echoed.
While she had been away for a month, she had never felt sequestered. Instead, she felt like she had always been part of Wolfcrest. It was how she dealt with her confusing feelings that was the problem.
“I don’t know, Daphne. You tell me. Others may think you are doing a wonderful job playing Duchess, but I see more in you. You look like a woman who has fallen in love but has been spurned. Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Daphne sighed. Why did Marianne have to be so intuitive?
“Nothing is wrong. The Duke is a good, decent man who has been taking care of me. Sometimes, he frightens me. After all, he seems to deserve some of the whispers about the things he does in the shadows. Other times, I am drawn toward him. It’s confusing. He will talk to me with such intensity that he makes me believe that he cares at times. Then, when we get too close, he will pull away. As if he has never thought of even conversing with me. At that point, he leaves me feeling… alone.”
“Mm. I see,” Marianne murmured. “What about you, then? Have you developed feelings for your husband, Daphne?”
Daphne flushed. She was ready to deny it, but her body had a way of reacting to the question.
Feelings? It was not part of this, at all.
Once upon a time, she might have entertained the idea of falling in love and marrying the person she loved. Men like Briarwood had made it difficult for her to trust that it might happen to her.
She didn’t quite know what the answer was to the question, but a part of her wanted Marianne’s help to understand herself and her situation. Before she could answer, however, a familiar voice shattered her thoughts.
“There you are, Daphne.”
She’d managed to escape her mother earlier, but the Dowager Countess of Grisham seemed bent to gain her attention now. Her narrowed eyes scrutinized her openly.
“You are wearing brilliant sapphires. Excellent. I trust the Duke had secured you this set personally? I do not believe you have it in you to order it for yourself, although that would be a pleasant surprise. You must always show thetonthat your Duke husband does not lack regard for you. People are still talking about how rushed your wedding was. Some may even be watching your waist for signs.”
“Good evening, Dowager,” Marianne interrupted with a firm voice, even as Daphne flushed at the insinuation from her own mother.
Her sister placed a protective hand on her arm, and continued to say, “Tonight is a celebration. It is not a time for critique, especially not on family.”
“Ah, curious you just said that,” the Dowager Countess said, her mood souring. “The conversation I am having with my daughter is strictly between family, Your Grace. It is essential that my daughter understands her current role. She cannot just marry in haste and then return to society looking more like a fallen woman than a Duke’s wife.”
“Marianne is more my family that you have ever been, Mother,” Daphne insisted, the red on her cheeks now from anger and not embarrassment. She sounded more decisive than she had ever been. “May you please excuse us?”
Daphne did not let her mother get another say. She took Marianne’s arm and steered her oldest sister away from where her mother stood.
