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"Oh, you shall see for yourself," Richard bragged to her instead. Ambrose briefly wondered if he should burst his bubble, and let her know that the only capable hunter out of the two was him.

But he abstained, and continued to torture himself by eavesdropping into their conversation.

"Well, then, I am quite excited to do so," Daphne nodded, eagerly.

He did not appreciate the strange feeling he had in his stomach when she said that to his brother.

Why do I ever care?

Ambrose shook his head, trying to push away the unfamiliar and unwanted feelings stirring within him.

This was absurd. He shouldn't care. But as he mounted his horse and surveyed the group, he couldn't help but glance back at Daphne, now standing beside Richard as they continued to speak.

"Ready, nephew?" A deep voice sounded beside him, and Ambrose turned to see his Uncle Sebastian return to him.

Ambrose nodded, though his mind was still on Daphne. "As ready as I'll ever be," he replied tersely.

Sebastian chuckled, "Seems we've got quite a spirited party today. Lady Daphne joining the hunt? Didn't see that one coming."

"She is a bit of a..." he paused, "nuisance."

Ambrose's gaze flicked back to Daphne, and despite himself, he found his thoughts lingering on her longer than they should have.

Determined to shake off whatever was pulling at his attention, he cleared his throat and straightened up in the saddle. "Let's get started."

They rode out as a group, but soon enough, Ambrose's annoyance grew as he kept catching glimpses of Daphne riding alongside Richard, their conversation filled with easy laughter. His mind kept returning to her, though he refused to acknowledge why.

Her posture on the horse was impeccable, her riding skills undeniable, and the way she navigated the terrain with ease made it clear that she was no stranger to this. Every time she turned to smile at Richard, something unpleasant twisted in Ambrose's chest.

His uncle was riding alongside him. "Tell me more about this Lady Daphne woman," he started.

"There is nothing to tell you," Ambrose replied, irked.

"Are you certain? You seem to have quite the strong opinion about her. I am merely curious to know why."

"I assure you nothing I will have to say about her will be very deep," Ambrose resisted the urge to roll his eyes out of respect for his uncle.

"But do you wish to get to know her more deeply?"

Ambrose did not understand why his uncle would ask that. He had hardly asked him that about any other woman, let alone any other person.

"I am the wrong person to ask in the first place. If you really wish to know, you should consult my brother."

Sebastian gave him a pointed look. "Ah, yes, Richard," he nodded. "If I were you, I wouldn't be so quick to hand her over to your brother. After all, Richard may be charming, but I'd wager she's not the type to settle for charm alone."

Ambrose nearly stopped his horse. But then he composed himself. His uncle did not know what he was talking about.

"I have no interest in charming anyone. And I certainly don't care what she does or doesn't settle for."

"Perhaps you should. She seems like someone more suited to be with you."

"You're wasting your breath," he muttered. What a ridiculous thing to suggest.

But Sebastian merely shrugged, clearly unbothered by his nephew's temper. "Suit yourself, but I've been around long enough to recognize the look in a man's eyes when something—or someone—is getting under his skin. And I'm telling you, Lady Daphne is under yours."

Ambrose let out a frustrated sigh, his eyes flicking once more to where Daphne and Richard were riding ahead, their laughter drifting back toward him on the breeze.

He hated that his uncle's words were worming their way into his thoughts, but there was no denying that something about Daphne—her defiance, her boldness—was getting under his skin.

Still, the idea of competing with Richard for her attention seemed utterly ridiculous. He had no desire to play that game, especially not with someone as infuriating as Daphne. No, it was better to keep his distance.

"Enough of this," Ambrose said, shaking his head.

As they neared a wooded area, Ambrose realized what he was doing—again.

He was stealing glances at her.

This was madness. Why was he allowing her to occupy so much of his thoughts? He clenched his jaw, determined to put some distance between them.

"I suggest we split into teams," Ambrose announced abruptly, turning to address the group. "We'll cover more ground that way."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Richard, of course, was the first to respond. "Splendid idea," he said, turning to Daphne. "Shall we be a team, Daphne?"

Daphne smiled and nodded, and Ambrose felt his irritation spike once more.

"Very well," Ambrose said, his voice tight. "But let's keep things efficient."

As they divided into groups, he led his own group in the opposite direction, determined to distance himself from whatever nonsense was happening between his brother and Daphne. She was a distraction, nothing more.

They continued with the hunt. After relentless tracking, they were finally able to spot a prey.

"Let me get this," he said to his uncle, who nodded gleefully.

Ambrose dismounted his mare and crouched low in the underbrush, his rifle poised.

His pulse should have been steady, his mind clear. The target was right there, just beyond the bushes, and with one careful shot, he could bring it down.

Ambrose's grip tightened on the rifle, but not on the task at hand.

Snap.

A twig cracked to his right, and instinctively, he swung the rifle in that direction. He had a shot—a clean shot—but the moment his finger brushed the trigger, Daphne's voice echoed in his thoughts.

His finger twitched. Bang.

The shot missed by a mile. The deer darted away, disappearing.

"You missed it?" Sebastian called out behind him, his voice now drained of all previous glee. "Nephew..."

"I will get it next time," Ambrose said, annoyed at himself more than anyone else.

"That's not like you. You used to have the best aim in all of England."

Ambrose shot his uncle a sidelong glance, but said nothing. He swung back onto his horse, the reins tight in his hands.

"Don't tell me you're getting rusty, nephew," Sebastian added, falling in beside him as the group began to move forward again. "Or..." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. "Is it something else that's got you so distracted?"

"I'm not distracted."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "No? Because I've seen you lose focus before—but not like this. Not during a hunt, of all things." He leaned in slightly.

Ambrose clenched his teeth, refusing to rise to the bait. "You're imagining things."

"Am I really?" his uncle was clearly getting amusement out of this now. "You know... you could always ride alongside her instead of your brother."

Ambrose did not even bother to respond. His uncle had clearly gone mad – suggesting that somehow hunting with Daphne would solve the problem.

"Who knows? You might even kill on the first try," his uncle continued, "to impress her."

"I would be altogether more impressive if she was not here to begin with," Ambrose said through gritted teeth.

"So you do admit that she is the reason why your mind appears elsewhere?"

Ambrose did not know how to respond. His uncle had always been an expert at reading people – decades of life experience had gotten him that. He seemed to have read him like a book, despite his best efforts to conceal his irritation.

Or perhaps even... interest. He shuddered to think of that possibility.

"She is a thorn in my way," Ambrose finally admitted. "I would appreciate it if you stop giving her more importance than she ought to have."

"A rose with thorns is still a rose," Sebastian chuckled.

A rose with thorns.

Ambrose thought it over for a moment. Somehow, the description fit her well.

As the hunt drew to a close, his luck did not improve much. If anything, he was even more distracted. By the time they rode back to the common meeting point, he was annoyed more than ever.

"Well, better luck next time," his uncle grumbled behind him.

Slowly, all the huntsmen began to gather. Ambrose's eyes narrowed as Richard rode up, his horse slowing to a trot. His gaze darted to the space beside him again, expecting to see Daphne trailing behind, but she was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Daphne?" Ambrose asked immediately.

Richard looked startled for a moment, glancing around as if only now realizing the absence. "I thought she was right behind me."

Ambrose's stomach twisted. "You thought?"

Richard nodded, looking sheepish. "She must've fallen behind."

Without another word, Ambrose swung his horse around and kicked it into motion, galloping back the way they had come. Richard hurried after him, calling out, but Ambrose didn't slow.

All he could think about was one thing only.

She better not be hurt.