Page 37 of The Prince’s Wallflower Wife (The Wallflower Academy #4)
‘Yes, I did call the carriage for you, you are welcome,’ Laura said with a grin. ‘Now, would you mind finding my sister-in-law so I can have a proper introduction?’
Christoph blew out a laugh as he kissed her cheek and tore out of the front door.
The carriage was indeed waiting. Thanking his sister silently that he would not have to wait an agonising fifteen minutes for the coachman to prepare the horses, and trying to remind himself to thank her properly when he returned with Daphne, Christoph gave the man the briefest of instructions.
‘The Wallflower Academy. Quick as you can.’
Surely she would be there now, two days after her disappearance from their home? It was the only one place she had lived for almost all her life, after all; the only place that had been truly hers, a thought which made Christoph’s stomach lurch with pain.
His home, their home, should be the place where she felt safe. And, because he had surprised her with a sudden declaration of love, it wasn’t. She’d left, walking—fine, running—away. Was it because…because she was overwhelmed? Because she did not believe him? Something else he had not yet fathomed?
It seemed to take an age to leave London. Despite the early hour, there were a great number of people on the streets. Christoph’s foot tapped rapidly against the floor of the carriage as his coachman attempted to navigate their way through.
Perhaps he should just have ridden. Just as he was considering launching himself out of the carriage, running back to the house and saddling his horse, Christoph was relieved to see open road before them. The traffic of London lay behind and the path to the Wallflower Academy was clear.
If only the path to apologising to Daphne and winning over her trust again could be just as clear.
It took an age to get there. Or half an hour. Christoph was not particularly sure; all he knew was that, when the redbrick manor house appeared on the horizon, surrounded by golden-leafed trees, he felt a dark sense of relief.
And fear. Because he had to hope it meant that it would not be long before he was talking to Daphne, attempting to explain, hoping she would accept his apologies.
Christoph half-stepped, half-fell out of the carriage just before it came to a stop outside the Wallflower Academy. ‘Wait here!’
Was she there? It was impossible to tell from the outside yet the place seemed to have a warmth that he associated with the woman who had brought such joy, such sparkling happiness, to his life.
If she was in there, he would have but five minutes to make his case, and Christoph had no idea how long it would take to explain all this to Daphne.
There was so much of him he had to explain, his life, his love, and he did not think he could do it all in one afternoon.
He had not been able to do it over the last month.
Perhaps it would take a lifetime truly to explain how much she was desired and appreciated.
This arranged marriage… They had not known each other beforehand, but that had to be rectified. And he would start today.
All he had to do was be calm…
‘Daphne!’ Christoph yelled the minute he knocked on the large front door. Her name had spilled out before he could stop it, his desperate desire to see her overwhelming him.
‘Daphne!’ he cried again, pulling at the doorbell for good measure, then thundering his fists against the wood. ‘Daphne!’
Where was that footman? Why on earth was he taking so long?
‘Where is Daphne?’ Christoph said in a rush as the door opened. ‘Where is my wife?’
It was perhaps not the most elegantly phrased of questions. It certainly earned a raised eyebrow from the footman who stood blearily in the doorway.
‘Your Highness?’ the servant said.
Christoph tried not to wince, but it was a close-run thing. ‘Where is my wife?’
‘Your wife?’ repeated the footman.
It was growing increasingly difficult to swallow down his panic. ‘Yes, Daphne von Auberheiser. Daphne Smith to you, I suppose. Please tell me she is here. I have looked everywhere for her—where is she?’
Without waiting for a reply, Christoph forced himself through the door into the hallway.
‘You can’t… Really, it is most—you’re not supposed to—’
‘Daphne!’ shouted Christoph, turning on the spot in the hope that he would see a flash of golden-blonde hair. ‘Daphne!’
‘Really!’ exclaimed the footman. ‘Now where’s the call for—’
‘I must find my wife,’ Christoph said firmly. ‘She is here, I know it. What do you know? Who is paying you?’
Perhaps there was a little interrogation in his voice, but he could not help it. His nerves had grown tighter and tighter with every passing mile from London to the Wallflower Academy, and now he was desperate to see the woman he loved more than anything.
‘What do I know?’ repeated the footman, wide-eyed. ‘Who is paying me? Miss Pike is paying me, but it isn’t the day for… Your Highness, it is but eight o’clock in the morning. I don’t know anything this early in the morning.’
All too late, Christoph remembered.
Six in the morning? It can’t be. You’re just going to bed.
I’ve just got up, you fool.
Ah. Right. Clearly the time spent with his valet and through the slow traffic of London had not actually been an eternity.
‘Half of the wallflowers are not even up,’ the footman was said. ‘And breakfast won’t be served until—’
‘Matthews, what do you think you’re doing, allowing outsiders into my academy before visiting hours?’ came a determined voice that Christoph knew. ‘It is most outrageous of you to… Oh! Your Most Excellent and Resplendent Highness!’
Miss Pike almost stumbled down the final steps of the staircase as she attempted to curtsey sufficiently low for royalty.
Christoph tried to smile. It was all a tad awkward.
‘I did not realise you were planning to visit with your wife,’ Miss Pike said, her voice a simper as she remained in a low curtsey. ‘I would certainly have prepared for the two of you a most splendid—’
‘Where is Daphne?’ Christoph demanded, striding toward her, pulse thundering.
‘Daphne?’ Miss Pike looked blank. ‘Princess Daphne, you mean? Your wife?’
‘Of course my wife.’ Difficult as it was to control his temper, Christoph was determined to do so. He had to find Daphne . ‘Where is she? At breakfast, perhaps, or still in her bedchamber?’
But, instead of calmly producing his wife, Miss Pike merely gawped in confusion. ‘Her bedchamber? Are you under the misunderstanding that she is here, then?’
Christoph’s pulse skipped a beat.
No. No, she had to be here, because where else was there to go? Where else was home?
He had looked everywhere—spoken with the authorities, enquired of her father, gone to the papers—and still there was no sign of her. Surely…surely she had to be here?
‘If she did not come here,’ he asked hurriedly, ‘where would she go?’
Most unexpectedly, Miss Pike bristled. ‘I believe it would be most outrageous of me to give out that sort of information. Daphne is one of my wallflowers, after all.’
Christoph stared. ‘She’s my wife!’
‘She’s my wallflower! And perhaps, if you had taken better care of her, you would know where she is,’ retorted the proprietress of the Wallflower Academy sharply.
‘Honestly—men! Do you think that merely because Miss Smith has gone off and married that I care any less about her? Do you think I would just bandy about that information for all and sundry to hear?’
Desperately attempting to regain his footing in the conversation once again, Christoph said weakly, ‘But I’m not all and sundry, I am her husband!’
Miss Pike’s nostrils flared. ‘Yes. And yet you do not know where she is. Shouldn’t you?’
There was a very witty retort somewhere, Christoph was sure of it, but he could not think of it. Even if he could find it, he was not sure he could say it with feeling.
His shoulders drooped. ‘Yes. Yes, I should.’
Ignoring Miss Pike’s look of astonishment, Christoph walked past her and dropped onto the bottom step of the staircase, dropping his head into his hands.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ came his muffled voice. ‘I don’t know where to go. I don’t know how to look after her, or regain her trust, or anything. She could be in danger. She could be hurt, cold, hungry and I’m… I’m lost without her.’
The ache in him which had emerged the instant Daphne had left his home, their home, twisted painfully.
What was he supposed to do? Who even was he without her?
It had happened so gradually, Christoph had not noticed it happening, but he was shaped around her now.
There was a hole in his life that nothing else, no one else, could fill, and it was agony. He couldn’t bear it.
‘You appear,’ said a gentle voice that made his broken heart soar, ‘to have mislaid a wife.’