The pause might have taken longer than she meant it to be because Mrs. Fletcher expressed her agreement: “Yet you know the value of forging alliances and want to help the Duke with —”
This time, Daphne helped the housekeeper complete the thought. “Help the Duke with his reputation.”
After a while, the housekeeper left her to attend to her other duties, while some maids assisted with the actual decoration. In those moments, Daphne forgot about her main problem, the enigma that was the Duke of Wolfcrest, her husband.
Later, Mrs. Fletcher came back, a little breathless. She looked up to the older woman expectantly, wondering what had the housekeeper looking ragged.
“You have a visitor, Your Grace,” she announced, looking strained. “It’s the Marquess of Amberwell.”
Daphne knew then why Mrs. Fletcher sounded strained. Caleb was Adrian’s friend, yet he was visiting when the Duke seemed not to be around.
“My visitor?” she asked.
“Yes, Your Grace. He insisted on seeing you.”
Daphne’s heart lurched. She did not know what to make of the visit. It did give her something to do. Someone to talk to. Still, she did not know how to navigate such an irregular visit, especially from a man who was her husband’s closest friend.
At least, it was not Briarwood. The Earl knew that he would never be welcome at the townhouse that belonged to her and her husband.
“Show him to the drawing room, Mrs. Fletcher,” Daphne instructed, after a pause. She smoothed the muslin of her simple, blue gown.
She took the time to clear up whatever she could before heading for the drawing room. There, the Marquess stood waiting by the mantelpiece. He looked more like a scholar than a nobleman with his coat slightly rumpled.
Did he come to see me upon a whim?
It seemed so. The only thing that remained, somehow, much to her relief, was his mischievous face. He seemed prone to making jests.
She liked knowing that the Marquess was Adrian’s dearest friend. Their connection meant that her husband was not completely without light. There was a darkness that seemed to pull Adrian away from time to time, and the night outings werebecoming too frequent. She doubted that Amberwell was in all of these nocturnal meetings.
“Duchess,” the marquess greeted with a low bow of easy familiarity. He had the warmth that Adrian tried to keep in control—the one she insisted on in herself that the Duke somehow hid within him. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“My lord,” Daphne replied, offering her hand, which Amberwell kissed with respect, and with less humor than she expected. “Do you have an urgent matter to discuss?”
The two of them proceeded to sit on opposing chairs. She noticed that the marquess did not look as confident as usual. There was a certain worry there in his eyes, but probably she was merely projecting her own anxiety. She still did not know what the visit would be about.
“I came here for a few things, primarily to apologize,” he began.
“Apologize? Whatever for?” she asked, truly perplexed.
“For goading the Duke at the ball. I imagine he was a little incensed already when he approached you,” he explained.
“No. He was furious because a lord had said terrible things about me and my honor.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” he said, uncharacteristically solemn.
“It is all right now. Your friend has managed to stop any more insults being hurled my way. He defended me from Lord Salthouse’s slanderous words but gave an ultimatum to everyone who could hear.”
A maid entered the drawing room and placed two cups of tea on the table between the two of them. She passed each cup to the Marquess and Daphne.
“He did say something about wanting to protect you,” Amberwell admitted, accepting his cup of tea. “It was the first time he had willingly abandoned self-control in public. Usually, he would only do that in the confines of his own domain. You have triggered something raw in him, Your Grace. It scares him more than any ledger book or rival.”
Daphne suspected now that the visit was about Adrian. It seemed that Amberwell wanted to talk about his friend, so he came when the Duke was not present. She relaxed a little but was desperate for more information.
“Does he think he corrupts everything he touches?” Daphne asked, giving her tone a playful lightheartedness as if she were merely playing with something so common. “He believes that I need protection from others and from himself.”
“Oh, he does. He now knows the importance of keeping the people he cares about safe. He keeps a heavy burden within him. He cares about you, and he trusts you enough to share his name and everything he owns with you. Unfortunately, it is also what makes him run away from you.”
“I—I don’t understand.”
