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“Not if Pierce has his way.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I see your husband has told you of his improbable plans for my future.”
“Rest assured, Mama. With Pierce, nothing is improbable. He has the most incredible way of making the impossible possible. And he is determined to procure this divorce for you. So please don’t lose faith.”
A small spark of hope flickered in Elizabeth’s eyes. “How can I? Pierce is not the only one who is certain he can accomplish this unlikely feat. Alfred is equally confident. Between Pierce’s belief in himself and Alfred’s belief in Pierce, ’tis hard to remain a skeptic.”
“And in the interim—” Daphne seized her mother’s hands. “You are happy, aren’t you Mama? I can see it all over your face. You’re away from Father’s brutality, safe and secure at Rutland.” A teasing light came into her eyes. “Where, I understand, the vicar has been paying you visits.”
Elizabeth’s glow was like a schoolgirl’s. “Yes, he has. He stays but a few minutes, and all we do is chat. But the magic is still there. Just as it was all those years ago.” A reluctant blush stained her cheeks. “He brings a bouquet of yellow roses each time he calls.”
“How romantic! Nearly as romantic as the fact that, after more than twenty years, Mr. Chambers has found no other woman on whom he chooses to bestow his heart. ’Tis still you, just as it always has been, and always will be.”
Elizabeth smiled at her daughter’s words. “I never thought I’d hear you extolling the virtues of love, growing up the way you did. I suppose my greatest fear was that you’d never trust a man enough to care. But all that has changed now, hasn’t it?”
“Totally.”
“I’m glad,” Elizabeth said with understated simplicity. She cupped Daphne’s chin. “Being in love becomes you. So does prospective motherhood. I needn’t ask if Pierce is everything you hoped he’d be.”
“Everything—and more,” Daphne responded, grinning privately as she contemplated the unexpected exhilaration that had accompanied her marriage, things her mother could never fathom. The heartstopping beauty of Pierce’s lovemaking, the breathless daring of spending her life with the Tin Cup Bandit, and, as she had to honestly admit, the incomparable thrill of robbing by his side.
Everything Pierce had promised the day he proposed had come to pass, Daphne realized with a flash of awed insight. He’d vowed to release her from the prison of her life, and that meant far more than wresting her from her father’s brutal hands.
It meant—and she could still hear Pierce’s words, fervently whispered in the woods at Tragmore as he’d enumerated all her facets he intended to free—Your magnificent spirit, your fire, your innocence, your passion: All of you.
Well, he had succeeded. Sometime over the past two months, Daphne Wyndham had blossomed into Daphne Thornton.
“You’re lost in thought,” Elizabeth murmured, bringing Daphne back to the present. “And with a most captivating smile on your face. What are you pondering?”
“Pierce,” Daphne whispered, her voice hushed with emotion. “He’s freed me, Mama, precisely as he vowed.” Automatically, her palm shifted to her abdomen. “And, with God’s help, this babe and I will free him as well.”
22
“NOW REMEMBER THE PROMISE I coerced from you last week,” Pierce cautioned, buttoning his shirt.
“Promises,” Daphne amended with a twinkle. “And I’m certain you shan’t let me forget a single one.” She crossed the bedchamber, reaching up to complete her husband’s task. “I recall every word,” she added hastily, seeing Pierce’s angry scowl. “I’ll stay far away from the school-house while the roof is constructed, remain in my makeshift seat, and call you if I need anything at all. How’s that?” She smoothed the shirt with a flourish.
“The shirt is fine. I wish I were nearly as confident of the promises. Had I not said you could come—”
“But you did. Besides, involving the children in this project was my idea. I’d be devastated if I weren’t permitted to watch. Please, Pierce, I won’t endanger either myself or the babe. You have my word. I’ll make no attempt to help. Why, I won’t even approach the cart holding the slate and the wood. I’ll just sit sedately by and observe the children’s joyous faces. All right?”
A sigh. “All right.” He scooped up his coat. “Let’s go have some breakfast. The workmen won’t be arriving at the schoolhouse for several hours, and you’re not leaving Markham unless you’ve put something in your stomach.”
“I ate a piece of dry toast before I stepped out of bed,” Daphne protested.
“That was four hours ago. Cook was advised to prepare a light mid-morning meal, suitable for expectant mothers. So stop arguing, and join me in the dining room.”
“Very well.” Reluctantly, Daphne nodded. “Although if we’re late—”
“We won’t be.”
Rounding the second-floor landing, Pierce guided Daphne down the staircase. Halfway, she paused, nudging him and gesturing toward the foot of the steps. He followed her gaze, grinning as he saw the object of his wife’s scrutiny.
Standing in the alcove, oblivious to the servants scurrying by them, were Elizabeth and Chambers. They were absorbed in quiet conversation broken by an occasional wash of muted laughter. And, though nearly a foot of space separated them, the affection hovering between them was a palpable entity no distance could belie.
“I’d best find the time to travel to London and meet with Colby, that barrister Hollingsby’s engaged,” Pierce muttered for his wife’s ears alone. His lips twitched. “My infallible instincts tell me we’d be wise to expedite the divorce process.”
“In this case your instincts are wasted,” Daphne returned, tender amusement sparkling on her face. “Your eyes alone could tell you as much.”
