Page 17 of The Prince’s Wallflower Wife (The Wallflower Academy #4)

But he had never seen her laugh like that.

Oh, it opened a wound he had not even known had begun to heal; there had been so little laughter in his life, and it was difficult indeed to make his wife laugh.

Now Daphne was laughing, and it was a connection from which Christoph flinched as much as he was desperate to step closer to it.

But, no: he could not be weak. He could not allow himself to laugh with them. Charm them, yes, but he had to retain distance between them. He could not allow himself truly to care for her.

Daphne’s smile was eager, but it faltered as she saw he had not moved.

It was the disappointment in her eyes that made Christoph step forward and bow low to the three women who had so eagerly embraced his wife. ‘Ladies.’

‘Don’t worry if you have forgotten our names, it’s easy enough,’ said the third woman with a laugh. ‘Sylvia is the one who is always getting into mischief…’

‘Outrageous slander, and completely true,’ grinned the dark-skinned woman.

‘Rilla is the one who sees through any nonsense.’

‘And little else, but that’s all that matters, isn’t it?’ said the woman with cloudy eyes with a wink. A wink?

‘And I’m the one that’s Gwen,’ said the third woman. ‘We have husbands, I assure you, but we’ve put them down somewhere and momentarily lost them.’

‘They always come back,’ said Daphne with a giggle, her cheeks pink but her expression joyful.

Christoph could not help but stare. The change in her…

It was not a change, as such, but an opening up, a relaxation that revealed the depth of her character.

She was still shy, still quiet, but when she stood here with friends, with those she so clearly trusted and was adored by in turn, she glowed.

‘I must say, it is delightful to see you all again,’ he said with a broad smile, inclining his head to all three of them. ‘And, though I did not think it possible, you have all gained in beauty.’

Sylvia snorted. ‘Where on earth did you find such a charmer, Daphne?’

‘Oh, I think you will find that I am the one who is charmed, ladies,’ Christoph countered, slipping more easily into the mesmerising skills he had always depended on. ‘Your husbands are brave indeed to risk other gentlemen fall in love with you.’

‘Half the ton has already fallen in love with Gwen,’ Rilla said with a laugh. ‘And the other half—’

‘Are trying to fall out of love with me,’ Sylvia interjected.

‘Now, that I can well believe,’ Christoph said gallantly, though he could not prevent his eye from being drawn to his wife beside him. ‘I admit myself, I am afraid, far too interested in my own wife to fall in love with anyone.’

Daphne’s eyes met his and a ripple of heat cascaded through him. Now, where on earth had that particular piece of vulnerability come from?

‘That’s the Wallflower Academy girl, old Norbury’s shame…’

Christoph stiffened. A lady and gentleman had passed by and the woman had spoken to her companion in that discourteous tone.

And Daphne…did not defend herself. She did not speak up, or accost the woman, or anything like that. Instead she curled in on herself, somehow making herself smaller, quieter, less intrusive.

The lady who had spoken snorted, continuing, ‘Wallflower, indeed. Well, that’s a more pleasant way to describe Lord Norbury’s…’

Christoph turned, his pulse racing as he took his wife’s hand, brought it to his lips for a slow kiss while others around them gasped at the blatant display of affection and said quietly, ‘Say that again.’

The lady flushed a dark crimson and the gentleman stepped between them. ‘Come on now, man, everyone’s thinking it.’

‘Everyone is most definitely not thinking it,’ Christoph countered mildly, as though confused.

‘Hear, hear,’ said Gwen unexpectedly, folding her arms.

‘In fact, I think you’ll find that Princess Daphne is greatly admired by all who have the pleasure of her acquaintance,’ said Rilla, glaring in their general direction.

‘And, as you so clearly do not have that pleasure, I would suggest you keep such unfounded remarks to yourself,’ sniffed Sylvia, crossing her own arms, but finding it difficult to do so over her swelling belly.

Christoph’s desire to protect his wife had rather astonished even him, but it had been instinctive. Pleasant as it was to have Daphne’s friends do likewise, he would have defended his wife against every single one of them in this place.

The gentleman ushered the lady away, their cheeks pink, and Christoph tried to smile as though nothing had occurred.

‘Daphne,’ Christoph murmured, turning back to her…turning back to where she had been. His eyes widened as he looked around him, gaze desperately searching for the golden-blonde hair and the delicate beauty that was his wife.

‘She does this,’ said Sylvia quietly, patting him on the arm.

Christoph turned to her, brow furrowed. ‘Does this?’

‘Disappears,’ said Gwen with a sigh. ‘She always comes back, but…’

‘Ah, I thought she might,’ said Rilla sagely, nodding. ‘Do you remember when the Pike pointed out that her singing voice was not sufficient for opera, and we lost her for a day and a half?’

Christoph blinked. ‘A—a day and a half?’

‘That dinner when Sir Harold laughed at her when she dropped her fork…’ Sylvia sighed. ‘We didn’t see her for the rest of the evening, or breakfast. She missed scrambled eggs, a huge sacrifice for our Daphne.’

‘She managed to go a week without being spotted when Lord Norbury invited her to afternoon tea and she did not want to go,’ said Rilla, her expression set. ‘Daphne is not one to be forced to do anything, and she is not one for confrontation.’

Christoph swallowed, a knot tangling in his throat and his breathing short.

It was strange. Daphne had of course had a life before he had ever been introduced to her as her future husband.

It was natural that her friends, those who had lived with her, knew her far better than him.

And yet it rankled, that they had this knowledge of Daphne he did not.

‘There cannot be that many places to hide,’ he said aloud, his eyes darting around the ballroom.

Sylvia shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. Daphne can always hide.’

And her friends were correct. It took over an hour for Christoph to find her, peering into corners, looking behind curtains, opening doors that he probably wasn’t supposed to look behind.

He interrupted two kissing couples, one couple doing far more than kissing and a trio of gentlemen who were obviously involved in some sort of gambling ring.

But it wasn’t until Christoph thought of the one place he had not looked that he found her. He opened the carriage door. ‘Daphne.’

Daphne looked up at him. She had been sitting in their carriage that waited outside Almack’s with her hands folded in her lap and her expression downcast. She had been crying.

Christoph attempted to ignore the tear tracks that trailed down her cheeks, the knowledge that she had been so upset and so alone saddening his own heart. ‘Shall we call it a night?’

Daphne nodded, as though her throat was too raw for speech.

The carriage clattered forward almost as soon as Christoph entered. The silence continued, stretching out longer and longer until eventually he had no choice but to break it. ‘You should have faced her down.’

Daphne looked up. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Christoph sighed, leaning back in the seat of the carriage and shaking his head. ‘You should have faced her down. The lady who spoke ill of you—why did you not confront her? Any other woman would have done so.’

He had not intended to berate her. He had spoken softly, or at least as softly as he could, with the anger at how Daphne had been spoken to still coursing through his veins.

Precisely what he had expected Daphne to say to him in response, Christoph did not know. What he had not expected was for her to snarl, ‘I don’t have to be like any other woman, Christoph!’

The blazing heat from her words burned across the few feet between them and Christoph’s eyes widened. ‘I—’

‘I am shy, Christoph! Shy! That by definition means that I do not want confrontation!’ Daphne said sharply, a flickering power in her eyes that he had never seen before. ‘And there is nothing wrong with that!’

‘I didn’t say there was anything wrong with—’

‘You just asked me why I had not confronted her,’ snapped Daphne, an edge in her voice that he had never heard before. ‘So I repeat: I am shy. I don’t want to draw attention, I don’t want to argue with strangers, and I don’t… I’ve never…’

Her voice lapsed into silence. The realisation about how she had spoken seemed to wash over her and, before he could clasp her, the Daphne who was forward, direct and spoke her mind, she was gone. She’d crept into her shell, her gaze now focused on the dark window.

Christoph stared and his jaw dropped. She was right. He had no business criticising her for something that was part of her. Part of who she was.

And yet…there was more to Daphne, was there not? This sparking fireball which had erupted over him was also Daphne. The fire and the power, the certainty with which she had spoken, was her.

She was embarrassed now. Christoph could see it clearly written across her face. But that did not mean that he did not have to say what he was about to say.

‘I apologise,’ he said quietly.

Daphne said nothing. She did not even look at him.

Her refusal did not help with the self-loathing that now poured through Christoph’s veins like ice.

Just when he thought he had entirely ridden himself of all remnants of his family, just when he thought he was truly different from his father…

It had been cruel, attacking Daphne’s response like that.

How had he managed to become everything he hated?

Everything that he had seen in his father?

‘I am sorry, too.’

Christoph’s head jerked up. Daphne’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, but loud enough to be heard over the clatter of the carriage wheels on the cobblestones.

‘Why are you apologising?’ he said quietly. ‘I am the one who—’

‘I should not have… You are my husband. I should respect your opinion.’

Christoph’s stomach clenched. ‘Only if it is worthy of respect.’

Daphne’s eyes were wide, her confusion evident. ‘It’s just…the Pike—I mean, Miss Pike—always said…’

‘You may not have noticed, but Miss Pike is not married and, most importantly, she is not married to me,’ Christoph said, partly in an attempt to make her smile. He did not succeed. ‘My point is, I know what I want from a wife. And honesty is important. I want to know what you’re thinking, Daphne.’

‘No, you don’t.’ Her words were spoken automatically, as though she could not imagine a world in which things were otherwise.

Christoph managed to restrain himself from reaching out and taking Daphne’s hands.

‘Yes, I do. There…there is clearly more to you than meets the eye, Daphne, and we are husband and wife. If we are to make a life together in mutual companionship, which I hope we will, then I need to know you. The real you. All of you.’

Daphne did not meet his eyes. ‘I… I see.’

He was not sure she did. ‘You have a sharp mind, Daphne.’

Finally, he’d managed to elicit a smile. ‘I am quiet. People talk in front of me, things they would not say to anyone else, because they assume I won’t repeat their nonsense. Most of the time I think people do not even notice that I am there.’

‘I notice you.’

It was perhaps a foolish thing to say. It certainly wasn’t completely logical. As the carriage rounded a corner and started to slow down, signalling their approach to their home, Christoph reached out for Daphne’s hand. ‘Daphne…’

She pulled away. His hand closed on empty air, and he swiftly returned it to his lap, his neck burning. It meant nothing. It was probably a good thing, Christoph told himself. It was good that he did not become too attached.

‘This…this marriage, it is just an arrangement,’ Daphne said, a coldness entering her voice. ‘You don’t have to worry about me, Christoph.’

‘I know I don’t.’

‘I think I will retire. I am most tired,’ said Daphne as the carriage slowed to a stop. She did not wait for the footman, instead opening the door herself and stepping down. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight,’ Christoph called after her fruitlessly. She did not reply and she did not turn back.

He fell back against the carriage seat and exhaled slowly.

Yes, he did have to worry about her. There was far more danger than Daphne could possibly know.

And, even if there had not been murderous brothers to worry about, she intrigued him.

Here was a woman, if he was not careful, he could truly care for.

And that was perhaps the most dangerous thing of all.