Page 2 of The Prince’s Wallflower Wife (The Wallflower Academy #4)

It was just, she had never expected…

And then the words she was thinking accidentally spilled out from her mouth. ‘But why would a gentleman wish to marry me? Marry an illegitimate daughter?’

The Earl of Norbury’s face reddened, and Daphne was reminded just from where she gained that particularly powerful colour.

Miss Pike gasped, her eyes flickering between the two, waiting for a pronouncement from her father.

Daphne swallowed. Ah . Yes, that was probably one of the inside thoughts that should have remained on the inside. Oh, botheration.

‘You are my daughter,’ the Earl of Norbury said stiffly. ‘Do you think I should be ashamed of you, is that it?’

No, of course it wasn’t, Daphne wanted to say in a strong, clear voice.

But I would be absolutely beyond the realms of sense if I did not enquire as to what gentleman — who presumably has a good name and character, by the way Miss Pike is celebrating — would want to marry a woman who can barely string two sentences together in public, who has no name save Smith, no true birth due to a stain of illegitimacy and, moreover, he has never met!

Perhaps another woman could have uttered those words—another Daphne, in another time. A Daphne free of the restrictions beaten into her.

This Daphne merely muttered down at her feet. ‘N-no. I shall obey you, Father. I will marry whomsoever you choose.’

What choice did she have?

When she was brave enough to lift her eyes, it was to see that her father appeared mollified. ‘Well, good.’

‘As any daughter should,’ Miss Pike interjected.

‘Yes, yes, I quite agree, Miss Pike,’ said the Earl of Norbury quietly. ‘But…but my daughter has an enquiring mind, and I can forgive her for that.’

A flash of anger made heat once again seep into Daphne’s cheeks. ‘How dare you—forgive me for having a mind? The arrogance! Should a woman merely cease to have opinions in the presence of men?’

At least, that was what she would have said, if she could have been certain her father would not immediately berate her for being an ungrateful child.

Inside thoughts.

And so she just stood there, meek and mild, waiting to see what her father would say next.

The Earl of Norbury sighed. ‘Daphne, it will not surprise you to learn that, after a year of marriage, it has become clear to me that your stepmother and I… She has left her childbearing years.’

It did not surprise her, but Daphne was far too circumspect to make that obvious. Widening her eyes carefully, she murmured, ‘I am sorry to hear that, Father.’

‘Not as sorry as I am,’ the man said gruffly.

‘I always thought an heir would come along, one way or another. If only you had been born a son…but there it is. I married for love, in the end, more fool me. Perhaps I should have married a younger woman, planted an heir in her, but as it is I do love…’

Daphne swallowed hard as her father cleared his throat. It was an unusually open speech, one she had not heard him give in all her years.

It appeared Miss Pike was just as surprised. The older woman’s eyes were goggling, and she gently lowered herself onto a seat by her desk.

‘As it is, I have no other choice but to do it,’ the Earl of Norbury said, his voice gaining strength. ‘Others may think me mad, but there it is.’

And now Daphne was utterly lost. No other choice but to do…what?

Within moments her unspoken question was answered, and not in the way she expected.

The Earl of Norbury grinned ruefully. ‘Daphne, you are now my heir. Well, my financial heir, as you know the title will go to a distant cousin—but you will inherit my entire private fortune. I settled with the solicitors a week ago.’

It was fortunate indeed that there was a chair just to Daphne’s left. When her knees gave way, she was—almost elegantly—able to collapse onto it.

Her…her father’s heir? No. No, she must have misunderstood in some way. It was not possible.

‘That means you now have a dowry,’ her father said quietly.

At least he spoke quietly, Daphne thought. It could just have been the whirling, pounding rush of her pulse drowning out the strength of his voice. It was all she could hear: the thrum, thrum, thrum of her increasingly pacing pulse.

A dowry? Her?

‘Daphne?’

No, it was not possible. Dowries did not just drop into the laps of illegitimate daughters—unless her father was truly in earnest and he did not intend to betray his wife. That would mean no other children…

She would be his only child.

His heir.

‘Daphne, are you listening to me?’

Daphne blinked hurriedly and looked up. Her father was still standing, his hands folded behind his back now in a posture of business.

Yes, that was all this was—she had to remember that. This was money, inheritance and alliance. That was all.

But it would also give her a future.

Mere minutes ago, she had been standing outside this room, terrified about what she was going to find within it. Now here she was, seated by Miss Pike’s desk, an heiress.

An engaged heiress.

‘Daphne,’ her father said quietly, sharpness gone from his tone. ‘Daphne, you now have a dowry of sixty thousand pounds.’

Daphne fell off the chair.

‘Miss Smith, oh heavens!’

‘Daphne—are you quite well?’

Strong yet gentle hands manoeuvred her from the floor and back onto the chair. Daphne’s head swam, the dizziness which had overcome her still lingering in the corners of her mind.

‘I do apologise,’ she said quietly, needing to ascertain whether she had been momentarily dreaming. ‘I think you said—you said I had a dowry of six thousand pounds.’

She blinked, her father’s wry smile coming into focus.

‘Not quite,’ said the Earl of Norbury lightly. ‘ Sixty thousand—and, when I die, you will inherit my twelve thousand a year. I will make provision for the support of my wife if she outlives me, naturally.’

She was dreaming. Yes, that was it. Daphne was not sure why this dream appeared so realistic, but it was a most strange one. It was only a dream. ‘Oh, naturally, naturally.’

She almost laughed, a strange, hysterical squawk trapped in her throat. This was madness. Madness! Sixty thousand pounds? Twelve thousand a year? How on earth her mind had managed to concoct such a fantasy, she would never know!

Besides, this man—whoever he was—would surely be disappointed to be presented with a wallflower like herself. She was no beauty, no great wit. She had a poor singing voice and played the pianoforte very ill. Her painting was acceptable, but not remarkable, and she had no talent with a needle…

And she was a wallflower. What man would want a wallflower for a wife?

‘Your father is being very generous, Miss Smith,’ Miss Pike hissed from the other side of the desk. ‘You might wish to thank him!’

‘Thank him?’ Daphne repeated, still dazed.

Thank him—for riches beyond anything most duchesses could imagine? For arranging a marriage to a man she’d never met without consulting her? For making her his heir, and therefore transforming her life into something she could never have predicted?

Her temple throbbed, the light-headedness still present.

This cannot be anything more than a dream…can it?

‘You may thank me, if you choose,’ said her father stiffly.

When Daphne blinked and her father came into greater focus, it was to see the Earl of Norbury looking…hopeful. Perhaps she had knocked her head when she had slipped off the chair. She could certainly not recall her father ever being hopeful in the past for any sign of favour from his daughter.

‘Th-thank you, Father,’ Daphne managed. ‘But—but sixty thousand pounds! It is a king’s ransom!’

‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ he said, with a smile she did not understand. ‘Heed me well, Daphne. The man who has asked for and been granted your hand is a gentleman, with all the sensibilities of a gentleman. But he is, well, shall we say, a tad low on funds…?’

And just when she was starting to believe the fairy tale, believe her luck had finally turned, believe a happily ever after might actually be possible for her, Daphne was brought right back to earth…

Low on funds. So, her future husband was what—a gambler? A spendthrift? A wastrel? All of the above?

Do not ask, do not let the questions pass your lips, do not speak up…

‘He is more than happy to keep the, ahem, exact nature of your birth a secret,’ the Earl of Norbury continued. ‘He is a very kind man, a very good one—at least, his letters certainly make him appear so.’

And that was when Daphne stopped listening.

Of course. Her father might preen and congratulate himself on securing a husband for his embarrassment of a daughter, the one he had kept hidden away at the Wallflower Academy, but he had never actually met the man. Her future husband could be hideous! A monster! Cruel and distasteful!

And it would not matter.

The thought was painful, but Daphne could not deny it. She would marry this man, whoever he was, and she would be grateful. He surely could not be as dull as living at the Wallflower Academy for another twelvemonth…?

‘So, off you go,’ said Miss Pike brightly.

Daphne stared. ‘I—I beg your pard…?’

‘I knew you were not listening! Honestly, Miss Smith, you are going to have to do much better than that when you are married,’ Miss Pike said with a shake of her head. ‘I said, they will be expecting you at afternoon tea. Off you go.’

It appeared there was no more for her to say or do. Rising slowly to her feet, gingerly hoping her knees would hold her, Daphne curtseyed low to both the Pike and her father.

Only the latter responded, and it was with a very slight incline of his head. ‘No need to fret, Daphne. Everything will be organised to my expectations.’

And that was why Daphne Smith left the room in a complete daze, knowing she was going to get married—and with absolutely no idea to whom.