Page 24

Daphne forced a thick swallow, suddenly very aware of how close the both of them were.

"I..."

"What is it?" he prodded, "Where has your sharp tongue gone?"

He had stood up now, but never once took his gaze off her.

And then, he leaned in towards her. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her head started to spin. Suddenly, the world around her seemed to blur.

They were close, far too close. Her eyes dropped to his lips, and noticed that he was doing the same.

Inch by inch, both of them leaned closer to each other – almost as if they were about to...

A sound in the distance broke the moment, the snap of a branch, and Daphne jumped slightly, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Daphne!" Richard's voice echoed through the trees and they both jerked apart.

"Daphne! Are you hurt? What happened?"

Richard came rushing over, his face full of concern as he skidded to a stop beside Daphne. His hands hovered, unsure of where to touch without causing her further discomfort. His worry was palpable, his brow furrowed deeply.

Daphne stole a glance at Ambrose, who stood nearby, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. The worry that had once dominated his features was now masked beneath a stern facade. She quickly looked back to Richard, feeling slightly disoriented by the moment.

How strange , she thought. This is exactly what I wanted. For Richard to care, to show concern. And yet... now that he is, it doesn't feel like I imagined it would.

In fact, if anything, it almost feels like he interrupted something between herself and Ambrose. She chided herself for thinking that way, and turned her attention to Richard.

The only man she should be paying any attention to.

"I'm fine, truly," she said finally, trying to soothe him more than anything.

"I thought something awful had happened to you," he continued.

"I was only lost," she smiled but it did little to defuse the tension. "I suppose my horse got tired, and decided that he needed a break – whether I liked it or not."

"You should ride with me," Richard insisted, glancing back at her horse, which was still too skittish to be of use. "I can't let you risk riding alone after that fall."

Daphne hesitated, her gaze shifting instinctively to Ambrose again.

She didn't know why she looked to him, why his opinion in this moment mattered at all, but it did.

And when she did, she caught it—a flicker of something in his eyes.

Ambrose's jaw tightened, and his grip on his forearm shifted slightly, as if he was about to say something.

But in the blink of an eye, he masked it again, his expression cool and collected once more.

Was that... irritation? Jealousy?

No, it couldn't be. Daphne should know better than to think that. He likely thought that they were wasting his time, and wanted to return to the Estate at the earliest.

Still, she could not help but steal yet another glance in his direction. This time, he avoided her gaze.

"What has happened to your arm?" Richard asked, suddenly alarmed. "Is that blood?"

Ambrose shrugged, dismissing it as he had done before. "It is nothing."

Daphne waited for Richard to say something more, but he seemed to take his brother's explanation at face value and did not push.

Was it always like this? She found herself wondering. The Duke did a good job at appearing as though he could withstand anything, perhaps his family had just grown used to it.

It made her concern for him grow. She knew that those that never asked for help somehow always needed it the most.

"It is not nothing," she interjected, against herself. "He managed to injure himself on his way here. It was bleeding quite heavily."

Daphne knew that she should not have said that out loud, for it would only lead Richard to know that it had been Daphne who bandaged him up. But she could not see Ambrose playing down his injury like that.

"That is a shame, indeed," Richard replied, frowning. "But good for us that my brother is not one to complain about these things."

Daphne was shocked. Richard did not seem to care much at all. Instead, he diverted his attention back to Daphne, as though he was still wracked by the guilt of leaving her behind.

"Now, let us get going," he said, and began guiding her toward his horse.

Daphne could not help but look back at the Duke. She wondered if Ambrose would have done the same if he was in Richards place.

He would not have. He would have cared about his injury.

"Come on," he said, his voice softer now. "You shouldn't walk the rest of the way back."

"I... sure," she muttered in a daze.

Then, without warning, he lifted her gently, securing her on the horse in front of him. She felt Richard's arms around her as they began to move, but her mind kept drifting to Ambrose.

Ambrose's face was turned away, his posture rigid as he mounted his own horse. But Daphne could sense it—the tension in the way he held the reins, the way his lips pressed together in a tight line.

He was annoyed again.

As they began their journey back, Richard's concerned voice filled the air.

"Are you comfortable on the horse there?"

"Warm enough?"

"It must be an adventurous hunt for you. I imagine it's not every day that you get lost."

But Daphne hardly heard him. Frankly, she did not care for what he had to say.

Her mind, instead, was with Ambrose, trying to decipher what it meant—that flicker of something that had passed between them.

A part of her longed to know why it felt more significant than the concern Richard was showing her now.

When they returned to the estate, Daphne barely waited for the horse to come to a complete stop before she slid off, her feet hitting the ground faster than her mind could catch up.

Without glancing back, she muttered a quick "Thank you" to Richard, her words rushed and breathless, and hurried inside.

She didn't trust herself. Not now. Not with Ambrose close by. Her heart was racing, her thoughts in disarray. What had happened out there? What was happening to her?

She practically ran through the hallways of the estate, her chest tightening with each step.

She needed space, a quiet corner to collect herself.

Every time her mind drifted to Ambrose, her pulse quickened in a way that unsettled her.

The way he had looked at her, the tension between them as they stood close, the almost-kiss.

No. This is dangerous.

She couldn't allow herself to think this way, not about him. Not about the man she had convinced herself she despised. But now...

Something had shifted inside her, a delicate, undeniable flutter every time he crossed her mind.

Earlier, all she had felt for him was irritation, frustration at his arrogance and his constant need to challenge her.

But now, that annoyance was tinged with something else, something much more dangerous.

What was worse—she didn't know if she could control it.

She reached the privacy of her room and shut the door firmly behind her, leaning against it as if to keep the flood of emotions from overwhelming her completely. Her mind was betraying her—twisting everything she thought she knew about Ambrose.

Her hands flew to her chest, feeling the rapid beat of her heart beneath her palms. This was dangerous. So dangerous. This man, who challenged her at every turn, was not supposed to affect her like this. But he did. And it terrified her.

Daphne knew she had to be careful. Whatever this was, it couldn't be allowed to grow. Not with Ambrose.

As Daphne leaned against the door, trying to steady her racing thoughts, a sudden knock startled her. She jumped, her heart leaping into her throat. For a brief, terrifying moment, she thought it might be Ambrose.

Had he followed her?

Another knock. This time, it was more insistent.

She hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob, her breath catching in her throat.

Gathering herself, Daphne slowly opened the door, preparing for the worst... but instead of Ambrose's tall figure, she found herself face-to-face with her two friends, Violet and Isadora.

"Oh, there you are!" Violet exclaimed, brushing past Daphne and sweeping into the room with her usual energy.

"We've been looking for you," Isadora chimed in.

Daphne nodded, bringing her hand to her chest. It wasn't Ambrose. That was a good thing. She should have been happy.

So why was it that she was disappointed?