Page 24 of The Prince’s Wallflower Wife (The Wallflower Academy #4)

‘C hristoph?’

So, you’ve got the harlot yourself.

‘Christoph, can you hear me?’

Unwilling to face me? Sneaking out of the palace like a thief in the night to steal my bride?

‘Christoph!’

Christoph started. ‘What the…?’

Daphne was staring at him from across the dining table with a most confused expression. ‘Where were you?’

Where was he? He was here—had been for the last twenty minutes, since the dinner gong had been rung—seated here, at the dining table. Two footmen stood silently at either end of the room, and here he was, with his wife. A wife he had been ignoring.

Christoph shifted uncomfortably on his seat. At least, here was where his body had been. His mind had been completely elsewhere. But that surely could not be what Daphne had meant…could it?

‘My apologies. I am… I am preoccupied,’ he said stiffly.

There was hurt in her face at his coldness, but Christoph could not bring himself to tell her the truth. How could he?

The letter was still in his coat pocket. He had not been able to leave it anywhere in the house. Daphne was not the prying sort, but he could not run the risk of her picking it up—or, God forbid, a servant.

The paper was burning within him, the words already seared onto his brain so clearly he could almost recite it.

Christoph,

You bastard. You realised I had a good thing going with this Lord Norbury lout, and you just couldn’t bear the idea of me having all that money.

So, you’ve got the harlot yourself. I hope she’s keeping you occupied. I can’t imagine she’s particularly good in bed, wallflower as she is, and of illegitimate birth. I expected better of you, you coward. Unwilling to face me? Sneaking out of the palace like a thief in the night to steal my bride?

It won’t be long before you regret this. Don’t think I can’t carry out my threats—you saw Katalina. You know what I’m capable of.

When I find Laura, she’ll be in for the same fate as you. The pair of you can’t hide for ever.

Tell that common hussy that she’s settled for the inadequate brother. The pathetic one. The one that couldn’t hack it as a true prince of Niedernlein.

I am watching you.

Anton

Christoph swallowed. Damn. Someone had said something. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Daphne had been saying something. He knew that because his heart had suddenly been soothed in a way that only happened when she was speaking, though he could not for the life of him recall what she had said.

She was not glaring at him, not exactly. Still, there was an undercurrent of… If Christoph did not know any better, he would have called it frustration in Daphne’s eyes.

‘I was saying,’ she remarked pointedly, ‘How distracted you have been this afternoon. No bad news, I hope?’

‘Bad news?’ Christoph said quickly. Far too quickly. ‘What gave you that idea?’

Daphne blinked. ‘Only…well, was not Laura supposed to join us today? I hope her travels have not been interrupted.’

Christoph’s stomach lurched again. Yes, that was another thing to worry about. A sadistic, murderous brother who had finally discovered Christoph’s subterfuge, a threat from said brother that he was watching him—how, he could not imagine—and now a sister who was missing.

Well, not missing, but most definitely late. His brother’s threat rang in his ears…

‘I imagine she has got caught up with the delights of Paris,’ said Daphne quietly, placing her knife and fork down on her almost untouched plate. ‘That must be it.’

Christoph’s smile was a mite strained. ‘That must be it.’

How like her to attempt to allay his fears.

That was something else he was starting to realise about Daphne: she truly cared about those around her, and sought not just to listen to them, but to aid them.

Henderson had scoffed at his mistress’s attempts to get to know the servants, but Christoph knew for a fact that when the maid—whatever her name was—had received bad news from her mother, it was Daphne who had dried her eyes, placed a fresh handkerchief in her hand and ordered the carriage to take the protesting yet grateful girl home to Brighton with a month’s full wage—and a promise of her position waiting for her.

That was kindness itself. That was his wife.

‘But there’s something else, isn’t there.’

Christoph raised his head with a jerk, momentarily catching the eye of a footman who had been looking curiously at his master. The servant flushed.

Daphne had not asked a question; it was a statement. There was a knowing look in her eye, as though she was able to look through the jacket and waistcoat into his pocket, where lay the letter.

‘You have a very curious and enquiring mind,’ Christoph said aloud. Yes, that was it—distract her.

‘You may think you are throwing me off the scent,’ Daphne said with an arched eyebrow. An arched eyebrow? His Daphne?

He could not help but give a laugh. ‘You know, I couldn’t imagine dinner without you, now. You’re part of my life. A vital part of it.’

The admission was perhaps too strong. Dark splotches of embarrassment crept across Daphne’s arms, right down to her fingertips, and she stared at her plate, shifting in her seat.

And that was how to halt a conversation with his wife, Christoph thought sadly, irritated beyond belief at himself. Why had he done that? Why had he opened up his heart, revealed some affection for her? Affection she clearly did not want.

There came the clearing of a throat. Christoph’s attention was drawn to one of the footmen, who evidently had one of those early winter coughs that was going around. A little early in the year, perhaps…

Ah, right. It was not enough for him to ache for Daphne to be comfortable. He had to do something to make sure she felt comfortable.

‘Thank you, that will be all,’ he said smartly to the two footmen.

For a moment the other footman hesitated. It was not usual to be dismissed from dinner, and evidently he wished to ensure that he had not misunderstood.

Christoph’s patience throbbed at his temple. ‘Go on, off with you.’ He said it with a smile, and hoped the two men knew they had done nothing wrong. Nothing wrong save be there, of course.

Examining his wife as the door closed behind the two footmen, leaving them alone, it came as no surprise to see that she visibly relaxed. Her shoulders loosened, a smile teased at the corner of her lips and there was a brightness in her eyes that had not been there before.

He had so much to learn about caring for this wife of his. This was not a woman who felt comfortable in front of an audience, however small that audience was. The thought was rather discomforting. Was he an audience?

‘Why did you send them away?’ Her voice lilted, a confidence in it that had not been there before.

It confirmed in Christoph’s mind that he had indeed done the right thing. ‘So that you can be comfortable—comfortable saying anything.’

‘Anything?’ There it was again, that raised eyebrow.

It was a good thing that Christoph was seated, for he was not sure his legs would have held him if Daphne had given him that look while he’d been upright. It was suggestive, and delicious, and reminded him of those dreams that made him reach out for her in the night.

His desire, his lust—he could not blame her for that. She could not know, surely, what such an arch expression did to him or would do to any man?

‘You look a tad flushed. Are you quite well?’

Christoph coughed, hoping that the movement to clear his throat would help dislodge some of this ridiculous attraction soaring through his veins.

Attracted…to his wife? It was all very well for those in a love match. He was here as part of an arrangement and, when he had suggested mere friendship to her, Daphne had looked pained. If friendship was too much, then what he wanted—true, erotic connection—would be far too much.

‘I’m quite well, I thank you,’ Christoph said aloud. ‘In fact, I was wondering—’

‘Christoph, I need to tell you—’

‘It’s something I’ve been thinking for a while,’ he said, barrelling forward, for he knew that if he halted he would never be able to start again. ‘After all, we have been married for over a month now.’

‘Yes, I know, and that’s what I need to tell—’

‘And, although I am perhaps not the sort of husband you would have chosen, I hope to become that. The sort of husband you would choose, I mean,’ Christoph said in a rush.

Daphne’s eyes were wide, her cheeks pink. ‘Do…do you?’

He nodded. Oh, hell, admitting that he was starting to fall in love with his wife wasn’t supposed to be this difficult, was it?

‘And so I wanted to know… I mean, we have our whole lives, and I am sure things will change in time,’ said Christoph, warming to his theme.

Well, she hadn’t shut him down immediately, had she?

‘And so I thought… I mean, if there was anything I could ever do that would increase your happiness…help you with, even.’

Now her eyes were even wider—which was odd, because Christoph did not consider a single word of his admittedly poor speech to have been that suggestive.

Quite the opposite, in truth. He was trying most desperately not to think of Daphne beneath his fingertips, quivering at his touch; Daphne lying on his bed in her naked glory; Daphne squirming beneath him as he poured himself into her…

‘I’m actually…’ Daphne halted, but she appeared determined to continue. ‘Hungry.’

Christoph blinked. They were seated at the dinner table. True, they had not yet finished, but he would have thought the soup and the delicious trout with lemon butter sauce would have been sufficient for anyone.

‘Hungry,’ he repeated.

Daphne’s cheeks were pink and she would not quite meet his gaze, which also suggested he had gone wrong somewhere. ‘Hungry. A hunger I have felt for…for weeks now.’

A hunger she had felt for weeks? If it had been any other woman but his wife, Christoph would have said that she was attempting to flirt with him. No, more than that—he would have suspected her of attempting to seduce him.