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“It’s a very good waistcoat,” he responded, as bland as could be.

She waited for a question or a follow-up remark. When none came, she spoke again, a little desperately.

“And my gown, did you like it? I thought it was very pretty.”

“Very pretty,” he echoed, and the silence descended once more.

Daphne sat back in her seat, fighting down the feeling of despair.

“Have I done something to offend you?” she asked bluntly.

He flinched, casting a bewildered glance in her direction. “Keep your voice down, please!”

She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at him. “Why should I? Why shouldn’t I make a scene? I’m good at that,Your Grace. I can assure you of that.”

“I don’t need assurances,” he muttered unhappily. “I know it quite well enough. I just don’t like large gatherings, and I don’t like being the center of attention. Unfortunately, both of those are inevitable when it is one’swedding day.”

Daphne frowned, blinking at him. “You’re angry with me.”

He looked away. “Of course, I’m not angry with you.”

“Youare, I can tell. I don’t understand. If I’ve done something wrong, please, tell me what it is. Tell me what I’ve done wrong, for heaven’s sake. I don’t understand, because last night everything was…”

He turned to face her, reaching out as if to take her hand and thinking better of it at the last minute.

“Daphne, I beg you, do not mention that again,” he whispered urgently. “You think our reputations can’t be damaged any further? Think again. I know you thought—we both thought—that we had already sunk low enough, but believe me, there’s always further to go. Let’s tread carefully, shall we?”

Daphne said nothing, and he leaned back, picking up a glass of wine. She looked away, feeling stupid as tears pricked her eyes.

What did you think was going to happen? Did you think that one moment of intimacy would change his mind entirely? He wanted a practical marriage, a marriage of convenience. He made that plain. And you, my girl, agreed. If you’ve changed yourmind, then that is yourconcern.

Perhaps you should guard your heart a little better in the future.

There was a lump in her throat that wouldn’t go away, no matter how much she tried to swallow. Her empty plate blurred under her gaze, and she began to worry that she was about to shame herself in public, at her own wedding breakfast.

She sniffed, loudly, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Edward glance at her. Worrying his lip between his teeth, he leaned forward and cleared his throat.

“Daphne? Are you… That is to say, have I…”

“Miss Belmont!” chirped an eager voice, and they both lurched apart as if they’d been caught doing something terrible.

It was Alex, of course, skipping over from the children’s table. Mrs. Trench was eyeing him from her seat, her gaze unreadable. It occurred to Daphne that Mrs. Trench could look straight at thetwo of them, and might well have seen the angry whispers and Daphne’s barely-held-back tears.

Alex paused, frowning. “I shouldn’t call you Miss Belmont now, should I? Papa, what should I call her?”

“I… You must ask her yourself, I think,” Edward managed, his voice tight.

He was still looking at Daphne out of the corner of his eye, opening and closing his mouth as if he had something to say.

Daphne cleared her throat, leaning forward with a smile. “I think you can call me Daphne if you like. OrDaff, or Daffie. That is what my sister called me. I’ve always been fond of that nickname.”

Alex seemed pleased. “I like Daffie. That’s a nice nickname. I already have one, you see. Alex. But, Daffie, you don’t seem happy. Mrs. Trench was just saying how sad you looked.”

Daphne flinched.

“I think Mrs. Trench ought to concentrate on her breakfast and minding her charge, instead of making comments,” Edward muttered sourly.

Alex only glanced between them, his eyes large. “Areyou upset, Daffie?”