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“Well, you should not. It’s too much for you. Come on, we’re going back.”

“It’s because I’m suffocating,” Alex burst out.

Edward paused, half turning his horse around. “What?”

Alex flushed, but he tilted up his chin and met his father’s eyes. “You don’t want me here. You never did. Everybody knows it, and I know it too. I feel like I’m suffocating—you won’t let me do anything, or go anywhere, or even… even leave the house, even with Mrs. Trench. Nothing ever changes, and I can’tbreathe, Papa.”

There was a long silence after that. Alex’s gaze shifted away, his mouth screwing up as if he were going to cry.

Edward moved his horse a little closer and reached out, awkwardly patting Alex on the shoulder.

“I’m… I’m sorry you feel like that, my boy. It’s not intentional. As to visiting your aunt and grandparents, you can’t possibly go now. Not while this scandal is still fresh. People in London can be… cruel. But once all of the gossip has died down, we might go to visit. And we can invite them here for the wedding. Your aunt Beatrice is a close friend of Miss Belmont’s older sister. Would you like that? To have them here?”

Alex sniffed and managed a wobbly smile. “I would like that, Papa.”

Edward let out a shaky sigh of relief. He felt as though he’d maneuvered that situation very well, or as well as could be expected from a man who had no idea what to do with a child.

Perhaps my marrying Miss Belmont is a good idea. Perhaps Alex needs a mother.

Perhaps I need a woman who’ll look me in the eye and tell me the truth, even if it’s difficult.

Clearing his throat again, he removed his hand from Alex’s shoulder. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to offer a hug, but that would be too awkward, on account of them both being in the saddle. Besides, Edward did not like hugs and embraces. His father had never done such a thing, not even once.

“We can talk about the wedding if you like,” Edward heard himself say. “I’m sure Miss Belmont would love to hear your suggestions for the guest list.”

Guest list? My simple, quiet wedding isn’t going to happen, I’m afraid.

“I will,” Alex said, brightening. “And perhaps, after the wedding, I’ll get a new brother or sister. Do you think I will, Papa?”

Edward gulped audibly. “We’ll see.”

CHAPTER 11

They had gone to bed early that day, so Daphne was not tired at all. She lay awake, staring up at the ceiling above her bed.

She wished she and Emily were sharing a room. They’d always shared one at home, even when there was space for them to have their own rooms. As it was, Emily was sleeping in the next room, and Daphne didn’t feel right going in to wake her.

A chasm had opened up between them since the ruined wedding. It was clear that Emily was hiding somethingfrom her sister regarding the Duke of Clapton. Besides, while nobody had said anything, it was clear that the family all blamed Daphne for this whole business. If she’d been more sensible, none of this would have happened. Emily would have had to marry the Duke of Clapton, of course. Wasn’t that the lesser of two evils?

Daphne closed her eyes.

I really have ruined everything, haven’t I? For myself, and for the Duke of Thornbridge. I don’t believe he’s a bad man. He was happy enough as a widower. What will Beatrice say when she learns I’ve married her brother-in-law?

Oh, and now she had a headache. Wonderful.

Twisting around to look at the clock, Daphne saw that it was just past midnight. The house was quiet, and outside was dark and icy.

She got up and threw a robe around her shoulders.

Dinner had been a tense affair, with nobody saying much of anything to anyone. The family had stuck to their parlor, and nobody had seen the Duke except during supper. Alex had joined them for supper, along with Mrs. Trench, and seemed happy enough, swinging his legs and chattering. Anna and Octavia had fussed over him and even wrung a half-smile out of the Duke.

The Duke hadn’t spoken to Daphne at all. When he had to address her, he kept his gaze on his plate and never once glanced her way.

Of course, there’d been no discussion about the kiss. Of course not. Daphne had briefly considered bringing it up but then quickly decided against it. If the Duke wanted to pretend that nothing had happened, it would be better to go along with it, surely?

Her stomach growled—a reminder that she hadn’t eaten much during supper. Tying the robe around her waist, Daphne snatched up a candle and slipped out into the hallway.

It was dark, with only the occasional candle set at intervals. It was cold too, and she wished she hadn’t stepped out in her bare feet.