Page 15

F inally. Some actual entertainment.

Daphne did not want to sound ungrateful, but the house party was already wearing her down. She must have had dozens of inane conversations about topics such as the weather in the last twenty-four hours that she had been here.

So when the Dowager Duchess informed the guests that tonight, there will be a game night in the drawing room, Daphne was enthused – which was not lost on Joyce, who commented as the two ladies made their way over to the drawing room.

"Gosh, Daphne. You are in high spirits already, and the game has not even begun yet."

Daphne passed her sister a pointed look. "Can you blame me? You know that I enjoy cards."

"Yes, but remember that we are not at home," Joyce reminded. "Tonight's games are meant for polite entertainment, nothing more."

"Joyce, have you forgotten that I know how to play cards?"

"Not at all. I know how competitive you can get, which is why I am giving you a gentle reminder in advance. Remember, a lady's participation is never meant to be too enthusiastic. You must remain poised, at all times."

"Not too enthusiastic, yet perfectly poised?" Daphne stifled a sigh. "So, we're meant to be ornaments, then?"

"That is quite a pessimistic way of putting it..."

"That is how it sounds to me," Daphne sighed, spotting the Dowager from across the room. She straightened her back, and reminded herself what she was here to do.

Make an impression.

So if that meant that she had to be a daft ornament for the evening, then so be it. Even if it went against what she really wished to do – which was to beat anyone who dared to duel her in a game of cards.

Daphne settled on the table with Joyce, doing her best not to let her sisters advice slip from her mind – as it often was the case with unsolicited advice.

Two gentlemen, and three ladies including herself and Joyce sat down on the table.

"Good evening," one of the gentlemen greeted politely. One of the ladies took out her fan, and delicately fanned herself across the face.

They do not look much like competition. Daphne thought to herself, agonizing already that she was going to have to downplay her skills in front of a party that likely did not match her level.

Cards were being shuffled when the devil himself, the Duke of Greymont approached their table.

"Ah, I see you've started without me," his voice was smooth, "I do hope there's room for one more."

The other guests glanced up at him, some of the women smiling eagerly at the Duke's attention. One of the men, clearly trying to impress, motioned to the empty chair beside Daphne.

"Of course, Your Grace," the man said. "We'd be honored to have you join us."

Daphne kept her eyes fixed on her cards, willing herself not to look at Ambrose. She knew that if she did, she would not doubt be met with that smirk of his – which seemed to be a permanent feature on his face at this point.

Without further ado, Ambrose pulled a chair out beside her, leaning back casually as though he owned the entire table.

He's insufferable enough to think that he does.

"Oh – Lady Daphne?" his voice registered faux-surprise as he turned her, "I did not even notice that you were here."

She glanced at him briefly, offering a polite but stiff smile. "Your Grace."

"You play cards, do you?" he asked, "I wasn't aware you indulged in such... competitive activities."

"I enjoy it from time to time." It took Daphne every ounce of her restraint to keep her voice composed.

"From time to time?" Ambrose repeated, almost mockingly. "Well, for your sake, I hope that tonight is one of your better times..."

"And why is that, Your Grace?" Daphne forced a smile.

Do NOT let him get to you. That is what he wants.

Ambrose shrugged, leaning back further in his chair. The confidence he exuded was quiet. Quite the change for him – as Daphne only knew him to be boisterous.

"Lady Daphne, His Grace is exceptionally skilled at cards," one of the gentlemen explained on his behalf. "Everyone who frequents the clubs is aware of this."

Daphne resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the obvious attempts at flattery. After all, it paid well to be in the good graces of a duke. Instead, she focused her attention on her hand.

It was nothing spectacular, but she could work with it. "We shall see about that," she mumbled under her breath, not loud enough for the rest of the table to hear but Ambrose caught on – his smirk deepening.

"That we shall. "

"Let us get started then."

The game began, and Ambrose settled in easily, his skill with the cards immediately evident. There was a casual confidence in his manner of play.

Daphne was careful not to glance in his direction again, but even so, she could tell that he looked her way every time he played his turn – as if he was rousing her, waiting to get a reaction.

"Oh, heavens," Joyce said, disappointed at her luck as she folded. Like the other ladies, she had been playing unimpressive moves. Daphne had been holding up against the gentlemen so far, but she was not playing to the best of her capabilities to not appear too competitive.

"It's alright, my lady," one of the gentlemen said. "It is only natural for a lady to want to forfeit in a game like this — especially when she is up against three gentlemen who have much more experience."

"Well, it is enjoyable nonetheless, my lord" Joyce replied, cheerfully.

The exchange was nothing out of the norm – but it irked Daphne to no end. She wanted to prove the gentleman on the table wrong badly – she could beat them at their own game. It was just that she chose not to.

That alone was agonizing enough without Ambrose's' pointed remarks.

"You might want to reconsider that move, Lady Daphne," he said at one point, leaning in slightly. "It doesn't seem wise."

"I can handle my own hand, thank you," Daphne replied through gritted teeth, her patience wearing thin.

Ambrose raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying her frustration. "Of course. I wouldn't dream of interfering."

The other players laughed lightly, but Daphne didn't. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, and she knew Ambrose was doing it on purpose. He was known for his skill at cards, and she could tell he expected to win tonight.

To be fair, he had no real competition. The gentlemen were eager to let him win in exchange of his favor, while the ladies had subpar card playing skills at best.

She was the only hope.

A lady is never too competitive. She is poised, elegant, calm–

"Do you always play this cautiously?" Ambrose asked after a particularly long pause in one of her turns. "Or is it just tonight?"

"I prefer to think before I act."

"Ah," Ambrose offered her a lazy – almost mocking – smile that made her cheeks burn, "if this is what careful thinking looks like, I shudder to imagine your reckless side."

"Are you always this chatty during a game, Your Grace?" she asked, risking a glance in his direction only to be met with a smirk.

"Getting to know your opponent and engaging in a bit of verbal sparring—well, that's half the game's enjoyment," he commented, resulting in several nods from the table.

"I see, " Daphne seethed, quietly.

He leaned over slightly, pretending to fix his cuff and whispered in a low voice that only she could hear. "Besides, you and I both know I will win this. I might as well enjoy myself until we reach the finish line."

The absolute smugness in his voice – god, it was infuriating. It snapped something inside of Daphne, and suddenly, her sister's advice was thrown out the window.

She sat up straighter in her chair, all too aware of the quickened pace of her heart and a renewed burning spirit injected inside of her.

The final round approached, and Daphne allowed herself to play to her true capabilities for the first time that evening.

As the dealer shuffled the cards, Daphne sat straighter, her focus sharpening. She glanced at Ambrose, who was watching her with that same lazy, self-assured smile. He thought he had her pinned, that this was just another game he'd win effortlessly.

Not this time.

The cards were dealt, and as Daphne picked up her hand, a flicker of excitement ran through her. It was a strong hand—perhaps her best of the night.

As the round progressed, the other players folded one by one, until it was just her and Ambrose left at the table.

The air grew tense, the other guests leaning in slightly to watch the final play unfold. Daphne ignored Joyce' concerned expression – she had all but forgotten about her advice.

"Time is ticking, lady Daphne," Ambrose said, amused. It still did not occur to him that she could beat him. "I see luck is favoring you well this round."

But Daphne still had an ace up her sleeve. "There is nothing lucky about it, Your Grace. I would have hope that a player of your caliber would recognize it for what it is – pure skill. "

Her tone had a biting edge to it, and Ambrose leaned forward on the table – perhaps taking her seriously for the first time that night.

"Well, Lady Daphne," he drawled, "I do hope you've saved your best for last."

Daphne met his gaze, her lips curving into a faint smile. "As a matter of fact, I have."

With deliberate precision, she laid down her final card, completing her hand—a perfect winning combination.

She did it. She won!

"There!" she blurted out, slamming one of her fists on the table, her voice louder than she had intended, "See that? I've won!"

An immediate and awkward silence settled over the table, and Daphne could see some of the ladies turn to whisper in each other's' ears. Her initial triumph transformed into horror, as regret set upon her.

Oh no.

A few of the other guests chuckled lightly, but the damage had been done. She did exactly the opposite of what was expected of her – this was no way for a lady to act.

In her embarrassment, she glanced around the room – wondering if Richard had witnessed her little outburst but he was nowhere to be found.

Instead, her eyes met Ambrose's. He wasn't laughing. In fact, he wasn't even smiling. He was watching her, a strange intensity in his gaze that made her stomach flip.

"Congratulations, Lady Daphne," Ambrose said quietly. "It seems you've bested me."

Daphne felt her breath catch, the moment far more charged than she had anticipated.

Across the table, the men exchanged knowing looks, smiles tugging at their lips.

It wasn't just about her winning—it was about the way she had won.

Her excitement, her lack of restraint, her triumphant exclamation—it had been too loud, too eager.

Not at all the calm, graceful reaction expected of a lady.

She caught a glimpse of one of the women at the next table—Lady Rosalind—her perfectly poised smile barely concealing the amusement dancing in her eyes. She's laughing at me, Daphne realized.

"I think I shall retire for the evening," Daphne said abruptly, "It's been a... long day."

It turned out that Daphne, despite her long hours of preparation, was just not cut out for lady-like countenance. Ambrose had been correct – it did not come naturally to her, as it did to some other ladies.

"I shall come with you," Joyce interjected.

Before anyone else could say anything, Daphne turned and hurried from the table, not waiting for any further reactions from the guests.

As she made her way across the room, she could feel Ambrose's gaze following her. It burned into her back. She could not get out of there fast enough, it seemed.

"Well, that was quite the display," Joyce said once they reached their chambers, her lips twitching with barely contained laughter. "What on earth happened in there?"

Daphne let out a loud groan, "Oh, I have ruined everything, have I not?"

Joyce put a sympathetic hand on her sister's shoulders. "Well, you won. I suppose that has to count for something."

"I just..." Daphne anguished, "I do not know what came over me."

"I do," Joyce laughed, "It is your competitive spirit, of course. We have seen it in you ever since you were a little child. If anything, I was quite impressed with the self-restraint you managed to exhibit in those first rounds..."

"I thought I was making such good progress," Daphne lamented, shaking her head. "Only to wash it away because I could not keep my emotions in check. I am glad that Richard was not there to witness the scene, otherwise, what would he have thought about me?"

"Well, was it not enough that his older brother was?" Joyce said, a teasing edge to her voice.

"Oh god," Daphne buried her face in her hands. "This is exactly what he wanted – I am sure. He must be so gleeful right now, at having being proven right."

"Daphne, perhaps you are being a tad too hard on yourself," Joyce mused. "Yes, you were a little... over-eager. But it was fair play – you had just won, of course. I am sure that everyone will forget it swiftly, and not hold it against you like some terrible grudge."

Daphne shook her head. "Ambrose will remember."

Joyce was silent for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "Well, perhaps he will take from it something else than what you imagine."

Daphne frowned. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Joyce shrugged. "If you didn't impress the Duke with your ladylike grace?—"

"I didn't," Daphne interrupted glumly.

"—then you certainly impressed him with something else."

"What is this secret thing that you keep bringing up but not explaining?" Daphne said, irked.

"Oh, it is no secret to anyone who knows you. Your competitiveness, of course. That spark you've always had. The way you wouldn't back down, even when he was practically daring you to fold."

Daphne shot her sister a confused look. "And that is supposed to impress him?"

"Well, surely you did not win his approval at being a demure lady. But I am sure that he respects you as a competitor at cards," Joyce nodded, "Which might not be ideal. But does it matter? He is not the one whom you are trying to marry. You can save your poised elegance for Richard."

Daphne almost laughed at the ridiculousness of her sisters words.

"The Duke? Respecting me? Please – that man has wanted nothing more than to sabotage my chances since the day we met..."

"Hmm."

"What?" Daphne asked, crossing her arms out in front of her.

"Oh I don't know, Daphne," she tried to sound nonchalant, "But I will say that he seemed awfully invested in your moves tonight."

"Because he wishes to sabotage me."

"Attention is attention," Joyce commented.

Daphne rolled her eyes. Joyce was being ridiculous.

"In any case, another day has passed and I am no way near closer to my goal of winning over the affections of Richard. I did not even see him all day," Daphne said. "Tomorrow, this will change."

She quickly discovered that this house party was not going to be as straightforward as she expected. Greymont Estate was full of distractions – annoying, irksome, smirking distractions. She had to reel back in her focus if she was to get what she wanted.