Page 36

The cool night air hit her as soon as she stepped outside, the noise of the ball fading behind her.

For a second, she worried if he had taken off again – disappeared somewhere only he knew of, and not to be seen again until he wished to.

The thought only served to heighten the sense of urgency she felt.

It was clear to her now – she could not leave the Estate without knowing what the Duke thought of her. This thing between them... it could not be in her head alone. She had to know. Otherwise, she feared it was something that she would wonder about for the rest of her life.

After moments of searching, she found him. There he was, near the fountain, his back turned to her. Ambrose was standing perfectly still, his posture tense as he stared at the water cascading down the stone structure.

As she approached, her footsteps must have alerted him to her presence because Ambrose turned slightly, catching sight of her from the corner of his eye. His expression immediately shifted—surprise, followed by something more guarded.

"Daphne," he said as if he wasn't sure he should even be speaking to her. "What are you doing out here?"

"I came to speak with you," she trembled as she spoke.

They were out in the gardens – without a chaperone. At any moment, one of the guests could venture outside and spot them together, forever tarnishing both her reputation and any hopes of a decent proposal. Especially one from Richard, as it was his brother with whom she would be caught.

But it hardly mattered to Daphne at the moment. She wanted an answer.

"We have nothing to speak about," Ambrose replied, refusing to meet her gaze. "It is not wise for you to venture out here in the gardens at this hour, especially not when I'm here. You should head back inside."

Daphne stood her ground. "I shall not leave until you offer me an explanation, Your Grace. All that has happened between us has driven me to the brink of insanity. And yet, it is so easy for you to say that it was nothing more than a mistake."

Her tone betrayed the hurt and anger she felt.

Ambrose let out a sigh. The muscles in his jaw tightened, and a flicker of emotion in his eyes—a deep, conflicted sorrow—spoke louder than any words could. For the first time this evening, he had shown her anything other than nonchalance.

"What else do you expect me to say?"

At first, Daphne did not know how to respond.

Truly, what did she expect him to say? But then, an awful thought entered her mind.

Was Ambrose' attitude to be explained by the fact that kissing her was nothing out of the norm for him?

Had there been other ladies, just like herself, who had been in this position before her?

Bile rose to her stomach, and her knees nearly gave away. "Did it not meaning anything to you?" she said, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Her words seemed to have broken whatever resolve that Ambrose had thus far maintained, because all of a sudden, Ambrose leaned forward to wrap her in an embrace, his arms wound around the small of her back, pulling her in.

"I..." Daphne was stunned, as much as she was comforted. Being in his embrace felt natural, as though she should have been here all this time.

"Please, no more," Ambrose spoke in a hushed tone, "I cannot stand to see you unhappy like this."

"So, then why is it that you must push me away?"

To anyone else, Daphne's question would undoubtedly sound like the musings of a madwoman. Why should he not push her away? He was not her beloved, nor was it wise to maintain any degree of closeness with him. But she could not help herself, and ask anyway. It had come from her heart.

"You deserve to be happy," Ambrose's tone softened. "And you will find that happiness with my brother."

His face twisted with pain as he said the words, and another stream of tears began to flow out of Daphne's eyes. Gently, he wiped them away, his touch lingering for just a fraction of a second more than it ought before he pulled away, and detached himself from him.

Once again, Daphne felt a profound loss when he did.

"I cannot give you a marriage, which you deserve to have," he continued. "I have decided not to marry, and it is a decision I made long before I ever met you. My brother can keep you happy in a way that I am unable to."

Daphne felt another fresh batch of tears come on. Now that he was finally giving her answers, she almost wished that he didn't for the truth was much more painful to bear.

"Why must you impose those limits on yourself?" she said through shaky breaths.

"You will not understand," he retreated slightly.

"And you will not explain either?" Daphne felt as though she was trying to hold on by a thread – the strength of it not enough to reel him back in when he had already made up his mind like this.

"I will stay out of your affairs, as I promised," he looked away, as though he dreaded the notion just as much as she did. "You will get married to my brother, and make a home with him, as you had always planned."

"And where will you go?" Daphne's tears were freefalling now, and she blinked rapidly to stop them from blurring her vision.

"Away for some time," he admitted. "As noble as I wish to be, it is difficult for me to see you with him. But he will look after you, I shall make sure of it."

"You have made up your mind, and nothing I say can change it?" Daphne mustered up the last of her strength to ask the question.

Their gaze met, Ambrose looked as though he might break, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of her question.

"Sometimes, it is wise to look at the practicalities of life over our wishes," he gave her a smile but it was coated in sadness. "I wish you the very best."

Of all the things that Ambrose had said to her – all the taunts, all the insults, even the compliment he had given her when she had least expected it – this sentence had the most profound impact on her being.

Even though he stood at a distance, it felt as though he had punched her in the gut, leaving her deflated.

He did not even wish to try. He had rejected her in no uncertain words.

Daphne steadied herself, swallowing her tears, "If that is what you truly want, Your Grace, then I shall no longer argue with you."

Ambrose noticed the sudden formality in her tone, and a pained expression crossed his face. But he made no effort to amend it.

"That would be for the best, Lady Daphne."

They exchanged one last glance – and Daphne wondered if this was to be the last time they saw each other for a long time. The thought overwhelmed her, and even though she stood next to the trees under the nights sky, suddenly she felt as though she was suffocating.

"I..." she spluttered out, "I shall go inside now."

Without warning, she picked up her dress and scurried her away out of there, knowing that if she glanced back one last time, she would not be able to make herself leave again.

But there was no use for wishing or wanting anymore. He had made the decision of their future together, and the faster she came to accept it, the wiser it would be.