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" A mbrose, dear, Lady Eugenia has recently returned from Bath. She tells me she's been quite the sensation this Season. Isn't that right, my lady?"

It was breakfast time, and all the guests were seated at the table. Edith had insisted that Ambrose sit next to her, which he now understood the reasoning behind.

It was so that she could properly introduce him to Lady Eugenia – one of the most sought-after women of the ton – clearly hopeful for a match.

"You're too kind, Duchess. Bath was delightful, though I must say the Season in London always holds a certain charm that's hard to match," Lady Eugenia retorted, her voice holding a sweetness that matched her reputation.

"Yes, I mean... London is difficult to compete with," Ambrose muttered, curtly.

Eugenia smiled, clearly expecting more engagement, but Ambrose's gaze had flickered toward Daphne, who was seated right across from them. Though she was doing nothing remarkable—nothing that should have warranted his attention—he found himself studying her movements.

Richard had not made an appearance this morning – perhaps that had to explain why Daphne's posture seemed so stiff as she quietly picked at her breakfast, not making conversation with any of the people seated next to her.

Was she disappointed that my brother had not made an appearance? It was not unlike Richard to skip breakfast – often a reason for chastisement from their mother. He had never really spared it a second thought... well, before this morning at least.

Now he found himself distracted by the thought of his absence. Or more, Daphne's reaction to it.

" Your Grace, " Lady Eugenia's voice pulled him back to the present. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he had scarcely made out a word of what she had said to him.

He cleared his throat, "Um, I must apologize, my lady. I am not sure if I caught what you said."

Lady Eugenia fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Oh, I was just discussing with the Duchess about the importance of charitable work. There are so many worthy causes that often go unnoticed, don't you think?"

Ambrose inclined his head politely. "Indeed, there are many who could benefit from more attention."

"Oh, I believe that it is our responsibility to do more!" Lady Eugenia nodded, "Just last year, I helped organize a charity ball to raise funds for a new schoolhouse. It was such a rewarding experience. Nothing like it, really."

The Dowager nodded, impressed. It was impressive, of course. Such traits were quite befitting a duchess. But there was something about the conversation that seemed so practiced – so rehearsed – that Ambrose was unable to fully engage in it.

"It's certainly admirable work," he replied in a polite fashion, his interest in the conversation waning.

"I knew that you would understand, Your Grace," she smiled, "I have heard much about your own charitable ventures. Surely, you are one for the people."

Though Lady Eugenia meant well, her words ended up having a less than positive result.

Ambrose did not enjoy being praised for his philanthropic efforts—it was not something he wished to have flaunted in conversation. It was something he felt should be done in private, and not flaunted. For he had seen too many people take that route, and he always saw them as boastful.

The idea of being labeled ‘one for the people' made him inwardly cringe. He did not wish to have some label, he was only doing his part.

"You're too kind," he said curtly, forcing a small, restrained smile.

"Oh, but it's refreshing to see someone truly dedicated to making a difference," Lady Eugenia continued brightly.

Ambrose shifted in his seat, the praise beginning to grate on his nerves. "I do not do it for recognition," he said, meeting his mother's gaze who quickly caught on to her son's discomfort.

"Yes – well, I am certain that there may be other things that the two of you share in common," the Dowager interjected. "Perhaps the two of you might enjoy a promenade later this afternoon? The weather is perfect for it."

Ambrose felt his shoulders stiffen. Of course, he had no intention of courting anyone – no matter what his mother thought. He opened his mouth, fully prepared to refuse, when something caught his eye.

Across the table, Daphne was looking in his direction, her expression carefully neutral as she sipped her tea. But something about the way she watched him—half-curious, half-irritated—made his refusal falter on his lips.

And he did something that he never expected himself to.

"I believe that would be a lovely idea, Mother."

"Oh," the Dowager exclaimed but then quickly masked her surprise, "That is good to hear. Lady Eugenia, what is your opinion on the matter?"

"I would love nothing more," she replied, excitedly.

Ambrose nodded stiffly, already regretting his decision. "Splendid . "

He glanced back at Daphne, catching the briefest flicker of something in her eyes—amusement, perhaps? Or was it a surprise? Whatever it was, it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Daphne had given much thought to what her next course of action should be. Given her little... slip up last night, she had a lot of amends to make.

For this morning, she chose the easy way out of trouble – to not speak at all. Richard was nowhere to be seen, so her efforts would have been in vain regardless. It was best if she kept strictly to herself for the duration of the breakfast.

However, as interesting as half-eaten honey cake on her plate was, she found her attention drifting.

.. elsewhere. More specifically, over to the conversation that Ambrose was having with Lady Eugenia – the woman whom he had boasted to possess great natural charm, she noted with an inward roll of the eye.

What is so special about her, anyway? She found herself thinking. Sure, she seemed to be quite adept at holding polite conversation, effortlessly filling the gaps when there was silence with a brand new topic.

Or that she seemed to be entirely too charitable. Perfect, even. But apart from that, her personality seemed quite bland.

Lucky for her, she seemed more interested in the duke and had not yet uttered a word about Richard.

That should have been enough for Daphne to stop eavesdropping on their conversation, but somehow, she could not resist. Especially when the Dowager suggested that the two should promenade.

Good for him. Perhaps he would stop meddling so much in my affairs when he finds a match of his own.

"All settled this morning, Lady Daphne?" Lord Whitby, who was seated next to her spoke up. "I hope that you are feeling more composed now."

Daphne forced a polite smile, knowing that it was a double-meaning remark. Lord Whitby had a reputation for being a gossip amongst the ton , and it would not surprise her if word about her antics yesterday had already reached him.

"Yes, my lord. I feel quite well, thank you for asking me."

Whitby chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "I daresay you've managed to provide the most amusement any of us have seen in weeks. We were all quite impressed with your... enthusiasm."

"I see," she nodded.

"I pray that there is another card game tonight," he continued. "I would surely love to be seated at your table. I do not mind losing – as long as you give us a repeat of what happened."

Daphne's jaw tightened. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, a cool voice cut through the conversation.

"I would think twice before suggesting that, Lord Whitby," Ambrose's voice was low, but sharp enough to silence the surrounding chatter. "It seems the only thing lacking in entertainment here is your manners."

Lord Whitby blinked, clearly taken aback. "I?—"

"Perhaps next time you should be the one to entertain the guests," Ambrose said, his words measured. "Since you seem so eager to critique others."

There was a tense silence around the table as Lord Whitby's face turned pale, his smirk long gone. He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, and muttered something incoherent before quickly turning his attention back to his plate.

Daphne, still processing what had just happened, glanced at Ambrose, her heart pounding. He hadn't even looked at her—his attention was solely on Lord Whitby.

Yet, he had just done something that completely surprised her. He had stood up for her.

Lord Whitby shifted awkwardly in his seat. "Yes, well," he muttered, "it was all in good fun."

"I would reconsider your definition of fun, Lord Whitby. For your own good of course," the Duke's voice was low and menacing, "I shudder to think what might happen if you were to impose your definition of fun on someone who is not as polite as Lady Daphne."

Polite? Was Daphne hearing things now? Not only did he stood up for her, but he also lent her a compliment in front of everyone. It caused a flutter in her chest.

It was... unsettling. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful or annoyed.

Lord Whitby did not utter a single word for the rest of the breakfast.

Instead, opting for a much more demure – and embarrassed — countenance. A marked contrast to his earlier glee at Daphne's expense, and she couldn't help but feel a small, guilty flicker of satisfaction.

As much as it pained her to admit, the Duke knew how to put someone in their rightful place. And for that, he at least deserved a word of gratitude from her side.

Stealing a glance in his direction, he saw him engaged in conversation with Lady Eugenia once again.

Not now, then. But perhaps later, she would like to speak to him.

Later in the evening, Joyce was helping Daphne prepare for tea time in the terrace in their chambers. She stood behind Daphne, carefully fastening the last of the delicate pearl buttons on her sister's gown.

"There," Joyce said, stepping back to admire her work. "You look lovely. Perfect for a little tea on the terrace."

She glanced at her sister in the reflection of the mirror, the question that had been gnawing at her since breakfast dancing on the tip of her tongue.