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" O h, who does he think he is?"

Daphne paced back and forth in her sitting room, her hands clenched at her sides, unable to settle the frustration that boiled in her chest. She couldn't believe the audacity of the Duke.

Ambrose, with his smug smirk, had made it perfectly clear he thought her beneath his brother, and it infuriated her to no end.

Isadora and Violet, her closest friends, sat nearby, watching her with a mix of concern and curiosity. They had both listened intently as Daphne vented her anger about the promenade and Ambrose's arrogant behavior. It was rare to see Daphne so worked up over anyone—especially a man.

Violet, ever the calm one, spoke first. "Daphne, we've heard a lot about the Duke. He's... difficult, yes, but there's a reason for it."

Daphne stopped pacing and turned to her friend, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? And what reason could possibly excuse his arrogance?"

"We have only heard rumors, of course. But there is always some truth to them..."

Daphne found herself growing more and more curious. "Rumors?"

"Do not worry, he is not involved in any sort of crime," Violet said.

"I almost wish that he was. That way, I would have something to hold against him..." Daphne found herself thinking out loud.

"I do not know, Daphne," Isadora spoke up. She had been silent so far, exchanged a glance with Violet before leaning forward. "His life has not been the easiest."

"Oh, woe is me. Poor Duke," Daphne said.

"No, no. There's more to Ambrose than you know. After his father's sudden death, he had to take over the dukedom at only fourteen. Richard was just nine years old."

Daphne blinked, her anger faltering for a moment. "He was only fourteen?"

Isadora nodded. "Yes. His father's death was sudden and unexpected. Ambrose didn't have a choice. He had to grow up very quickly, and he basically became Richard's father, not just his brother."

Violet added softly, "I imagine that is why he feels so protective about him."

Daphne thought back to her own sisters, who were so protective of her.

For a moment, Daphne's anger wavered. She hadn't known that part of Ambrose's story. It was hard to imagine a boy of fourteen being thrust into the responsibilities of a duke, especially with a young brother to care for.

She almost felt a pang of sympathy— almost.

After all, she had experienced a similar tragedy when her own parents had been taken away from her at such a young age.

"That may explain his behavior," Daphne said slowly, "but it doesn't excuse it. Just because he's had a difficult past doesn't mean he can control Richard's life, or mine for that matter."

Isadora sighed. "You're right. But you have to understand, His Grace has always been in control of everything. He is a Duke after all."

Daphne resumed pacing, her mind racing. She couldn't deny that learning about Ambrose's past complicated her feelings.

Still, it didn't change the fact that he had treated her with such disdain.

She was determined to prove him wrong—to show him that she wasn't the meek, easily dismissed girl he thought she was.

Violet's voice broke through her thoughts. "And he's never even courted a lady."

"Surely you are only making things up as you go along now," Daphne cast her friend a look of deep suspicion.

"Oh, what reason do I have to lie to you?" Isadora continued. "Do you really find it so difficult to be true?"

"Judging by the way that he conducted himself – such confidence and entitled – I find it difficult to believe that he has not yet attempted to entrap some poor young girl into his marrying him," Daphne maintained.

"You cannot be further from the truth," Isabella chuckled, shaking her head. "Despite his status, Ambrose has never looked for a wife. In fact, it's well known that he has no interest in marriage."

Daphne crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "How is that possible? A man of his rank should have been inundated with offers."

"Oh, he has," Violet said with a chuckle. "But the Duke is very... particular. He's never found anyone he considers suitable. Not that he's been looking."

Daphne's thoughts spun. The Duke, for all his arrogance and control, had never courted a lady?

The very idea seemed almost laughable, yet somehow it made sense.

Ambrose was so focused on his responsibilities, so determined to keep everything in order, that he had likely never considered marriage a priority.

"And yet," Daphne said slowly, "he has the nerve to tell me that I'm not suitable for Richard. He hasn't even taken the time to find someone for himself."

Violet smiled sympathetically. "That sounds exactly like him. He's quite protective of his younger brother."

Daphne clenched her fists, her determination hardening.

"Well, he's wrong about me. Richard is a good man, and I know we're meant to be together."

Isadora tilted her head, studying Daphne carefully. "Do you really feel that way, Daphne? Those are some strong words."

Daphne paused, considering her friend's question. Yes, they were strong words. But she had always been like that.

Why should she doubt her feelings?

He was everything a husband should be—reliable, well-mannered, and from an excellent family.

"I feel happy when I'm with him," Daphne said. "He makes me feel at ease, and I enjoy our conversations. I look forward to seeing him."

"But do you love him?" Violet asked gently.

"Love?" Daphne asked, startled by the question. "Violet, it is too soon for me to say that."

Violet shrugged her shoulders. "I only say this so that I can remind you that we made a vow together, remember? That we would only marry for love."

Daphne had almost forgotten about that.

"Of course."

"So do you think you love him?" she pressed, again."

Daphne hesitated. "I... I'm sure I do. What else could it be?"

It was an awkward question, and definitely one that made her think twice.

"It is too early to ask these things," Isadora jumped in, acting as the voice of reason. "Why must you scare her like this?"

"Oh I am not scaring her," Violent shrugged, "I am only voicing my curiosities. In the books, they always know from the beginning if it is love."

"Life is not a book," Isadora replied. "But yes, you should wait for to know for sure."

Daphne frowned. She hadn't considered things so deeply before. She had always assumed that the feelings she had for Richard were enough—that the contentment and ease she felt in his presence were signs of love. But now that her friends had questioned it, doubt began to creep in.

"I don't know if I love him," Daphne admitted quietly. "But I do know that I want to be with him."

"And you're certain?" Violet pressed.

Daphne straightened her shoulders, pushing the doubt aside. "Yes. I'm sure."

Her friends seemed unconvinced, but they didn't press the matter further. Instead, the conversation shifted to the Duke once more.

"I still can't believe how vexing Ambrose is," Daphne muttered, her temper flaring again. "He thinks he can just dictate everything, that he knows better than anyone else."

Violet smiled sympathetically. "He is rather overbearing, isn't he?"

Daphne huffed in frustration. "I'll show him. I'll prove to him that I can be the perfect wife."

Isadora raised an eyebrow. "The perfect wife?"

"Yes," Daphne said, her resolve hardening. "If Ambrose is so determined to see me as unsuitable, then I'll prove him wrong. I'll be everything he thinks I can't be—graceful, poised, perfectly mannered."

Violet and Isadora exchanged glances again, this time with amusement.

"And how do you plan to do that?" Isadora asked, leaning back in her chair.

Daphne turned to her friend with a determined expression. "You're going to help me."

Isadora blinked, taken aback. "Me?"

"Yes," Daphne said with a smile. "You're always so composed, so poised. You never make a misstep in public. I need you to teach me."

Isadora's eyes widened in surprise, but then a slow smile spread across her face. "You want lessons in manners and decorum?"

Daphne nodded eagerly. "Yes. I want to show Ambrose that I'm not just some reckless girl who doesn't know how to behave."

Violet chuckled softly. "This should be interesting."

"Please, Isadora. You already have two younger sisters, and you have taught them well. Can you teach me as well?"

Isadora leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Very well, Daphne. If you're serious about this, I'll teach you. But I have to admit, it feels strange considering how you have never cared about any of this."

"Forget strange," Daphne shrugged. "Do you think it is possible?"

"Well, I don't think it will be easy," Isadora admitted. "But if you are truly willing, then perhaps we can make something work."

Perfect. That was all that Daphne wished to hear.

She grinned, ear to ear. "I'm ready."

The next morning, Daphne found herself standing in her drawing room, hands folded neatly in front of her, as Isadora circled around her like a hawk.

"Posture, Daphne," Isadora said sharply. "You're slouching again."

Daphne straightened her back, trying to hold the position Isadora had demonstrated earlier. But after only a few moments, she felt her shoulders begin to ache.

"I don't know how you do this all the time," Daphne muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

"It's practice," Isadora replied, unimpressed. "And discipline. If you're going to prove yourself to the Duke, you'll need both."

Daphne huffed in frustration, but she didn't complain further. She had asked for this, after all. Isadora had agreed to give her lessons in poise, manners, and decorum, and Daphne had promised to be a good student.

But she hadn't realized how difficult it would be.

"Now, let's move on to your walk," Isadora said, gesturing for Daphne to follow her. "Remember, light steps, shoulders back, chin up. You must move with grace and purpose."