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Ambrose remained silent for a moment, his jaw tight. It was difficult for him to open up. He had always been an expert at keeping his thoughts to himself.

But he feared that if he did so now, he might just end up losing his mind.

"I am not trying to pry," Benedict added as an afterthought, "I was only suggesting that you would benefit from talking about it. I would know. How many times have you lent me a listening ear for my problems?"

Ambrose let out a low chuckle. It was true. Benedict he had never been short of stories to recount about his experience with love.

"Perhaps you have a point."

"Of course, I do," Benedict grinned, "So what is that, old dog? What bothers you enough that you made the three hour journey to my manor this morning?"

Ambrose gestured to the benches, and both men made their way over to them. If he was going to talk about this, he better be sitting down for it. Benedict watched him in careful anticipation, but Ambrose knew that if it came to it, he would never push incessantly or pry information.

That made him comfortable enough to start speaking.

"It's a woman," he admitted quietly, though his voice was still strained.

"I'll be damned," Benedict said. "I never thought I would see you utter those words in my lifetime."

"Imagine how it is for me, then," Ambrose remarked. "To experience it."

"Who's the lucky girl?"

Ambrose winced. "I am not sure if either of us are lucky in this situation."

"What's the situation?"

Ambrose exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing through his hair. "It's someone I shouldn't be thinking about. Someone who... well, someone who's important to my brother."

Benedict's eyes widened slightly, though he quickly masked his surprise. "Ah. That is complicated."

Ambrose chuckled darkly. "You don't know the half of it. We..." he paused, gathering himself to reveal what felt like a secret he should be taking to his grave, "we kissed."

"Scandalous," Benedict chuckled, but there was no judgement in his voice. "I reckon that Richard must not have been thrilled to find out."

"Are you mad?" Ambrose shot back. "He does not know. It was a mistake."

"Mhm," Benedict did not seem convinced, "I have never known you to spend so much time dwelling over a mistake. It has to be something more to it."

"I have been trying," Ambrose rubbed the back of his neck. "But she's... well..."

"Hard to forget?"

"That is one way to put it," Ambrose groaned. "And it is not for a lack of trying."

"Is there no way that you can have her for yourself?" Benedict suggested, as though it was the most obvious solution. "Perhaps Richard can understand. I do not know him to be unreasonable."

"That is out of the question," Ambrose said, his teeth gritted. "If that was the case, then why would I have left the Estate?"

Benedict let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Well, Ambrose, I hate to break it to you, but if she's got you this tangled up, running away isn't going to fix anything. In fact, it sounds like you're trying to outrun something that's already caught up with you."

"It's not that simple," he muttered. "I have responsibilities. I can't just?—"

"Forget about all that for a moment," Benedict interrupted, "This isn't about your responsibilities, or your title, or even your brother. This is about you. You clearly care about this woman. So why are you fighting it?"

Ambrose did not have an answer immediately.

"I do not wish to hurt anyone," he admitted finally. What he did not mention was that he did not wish to hurt himself either.

Benedict studied him for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Do you love her?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. Ambrose's chest tightened.

Love was a serious word. He was not ready to admit such a thing just yet.

"I don't know," he admitted quietly, though even as he said it, he knew it wasn't entirely true. He did care for Daphne—more than he wanted to. More than he should.

"Well, you clearly feel something," Benedict said, “Otherwise you would not be here, running away from her.”

Ambrose did not reply, but Benedict continued on regardless.

“And if I am being frank, then I have never seen you like this before. You don't talk about her like she's just another woman. You talk about her like she's the one you can't get out of your head. And trust me, Ambrose, that's not something you can ignore."

Ambrose rubbed a hand over his face, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. "It's not like I wanted this to happen. This whole thing started only because I wished to prove to my brother that she is unfit for marriage.”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Benedict cracked an amused smile. “And then you ended up falling for her in the process? It would be quite romantic, if it was not so ironic.”

Ambrose shot him a glare. “There is no romance.”

“Yet.” Benedict laughed. "Things don't always go the way we want. But if she's worth thinking about this much, then she's worth confronting your feelings for. Hiding from it is only going to make it worse."

Ambrose remained silent, his mind racing with thoughts of Daphne. She wasn't like anyone else. She challenged him, frustrated him, intrigued him in ways no one else ever had. But she was also dangerous—dangerous to his carefully constructed life, dangerous to his relationship with his brother.

And yet...

Benedict's voice broke through his thoughts. "You can't run forever, Ambrose. Eventually, you're going to have to face it."

"She's unlike anyone I've ever known," Ambrose said finally, his voice low but steady. "She's stubborn, infuriating at times. But she's also... she's brilliant. And I can't get her out of my mind."

"Sounds like you've got it bad, my friend."

Ambrose shook his head, "I..."

"Don't even try and deny it," Benedict replied. "You care about her. That much is clear. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

Ambrose stared at the floor, the weight of Benedict's question pressing down on him.

What was he going to do? He had spent so much time trying to avoid his feelings, trying to convince himself that they were a mistake, that he hadn't stopped to consider what would happen if he actually confronted them.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," Ambrose said quietly. "But you are right. Running away from it has not done me any good."

He was convinced that it would kill him.

Benedict clapped him on the shoulder, "That's the first step. You've admitted it. Now, you just have to figure out where to go from here. And if I know you..." a knowing smile played on his face, "you are a smart man. You shall have the answer in no time."

Ambrose felt a strange sense of clarity settle over him. He couldn't deny his feelings for Daphne any longer.

He would have to return to the estate, and settle this altogether. Even if it meant coming clean to his brother, or...

Daphne.

Somehow, the prospect of admitting that he kissed Daphne seemed a lot less intimidating than confessing to Daphne herself.