A Return of Devotion Page 34

  There was no one to talk to, no one to tease. No one to be strong for.

  Restless, Daphne left her room and picked her way through the quiet house to the back porch. She’d tried to resist the lure of the porch, but every night she found herself there again, even when it was raining.

  When they’d lived here, it was a nightly tradition for Kit and Daphne, and then Jess as well, to meet on the porch and watch the moon reflect on the lake at the bottom of the hill. They’d talk about the children, about life, about everything. They’d shared secrets and become family.

  She’d missed this porch. She missed Kit. That was difficult to admit since she was truly happy for her friend, but Daphne missed her. Kit had been the one constant in Daphne’s life, the person who was always willing to stand between Daphne and the rest of the world.

  Sometime after dinner, the rain had finally stopped, leaving the view before her glistening in the moonlight. Fresh and full of promise and empty of people.

  The door opened behind her and Daphne jerked to the side, hoping to step into the shadows before someone found her, but it was William who was joining her.

  “How did you know where to find me?” she asked.

  “Jess slipped a note under my plate.” William walked over to join her at the porch railing.

  They stood shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the moon, neither of them speaking. Probably because they both knew what needed to be said but didn’t want to be the one to say it.

  “They aren’t all like Araminta,” he finally said.

  “They don’t have to be.” Daphne swallowed, trying to remove the lump in her throat. This was not the moment to cry. This was the moment to be strong. “I’ll always be thankful to you, though. You showed me I wasn’t living my life. I was simply existing.”

  “What are you saying?” William turned and leaned his hip on the rail.

  “I don’t know.” She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tell him good-bye yet. This wasn’t going to work, though. Instead of a sparkling jewel on his arm when he went to London, she’d be the weight that pulled him down.

  This afternoon in the library, as she’d stood frozen to the floor, she thought she’d been ready to tell him good-bye, but here, with the night and the peaceful quiet, she wasn’t as sure that it was the right choice.

  “Don’t give up yet,” he said, reaching a hand out to run the back of his finger along her cheek. “There’s time. Araminta won’t stay here forever. She’ll probably leave as soon as the bridge clears. Then we’ll take some time.”

  It wouldn’t change the answer, but Daphne was selfish enough to want that time.

  “I’ve never felt like this, Daphne, like I would stop the whole world for another person.” His words were whispered, but their impact was enormous. No one other than Kit had ever wanted to put Daphne first. Even Kit had eventually traveled her own path, a path Daphne couldn’t follow.

  William ducked his head a bit so he could look Daphne in the eye. “I want you to know that the only reason you haven’t dined at my table this week is because I didn’t think you were ready. I want you there, Daphne, and I’d have sent a tray to Araminta’s room if she couldn’t handle it. But I’m not going to do that to you without your approval. I see you, Daphne. Don’t think I’m waiting for you to turn into someone else because I’m not. But I’ll never make you do something you don’t feel you can handle.”

  But she wouldn’t be what he needed. “You are a marquis,” Daphne whispered. “People need to see you, know you.”

  “Do not quote that woman to me. I have never wanted anyone like Araminta. Ever. All I want is a woman at my side who cares about me and the same things I do.”

  “But she’s right. People need to see you. Your people. If I stand by your side, they’ll see me, too. I don’t think I can do it, William.”

  It had been such a lovely concept, life after forgiveness, but it was too late for her. She didn’t know how to live anymore. “These past three days have been some of the hardest I can ever remember. I can’t eat, I sleep only when I’m exhausted.” A sob broke through her restraint, and the rest of her words were broken by hiccups and gasps as her chest heaved and the tears flowed. “And that’s here, in my own home. I don’t know what to do in front of her, I don’t know what to say. I was never very good with people and now what little skill I had is lost.”

  “You can relearn.” He pulled her close to him, and she buried her face in his chest, soaking up his warmth.

  She tried to speak, tried to form the words to say good-bye, but all she could do was weep. He held her as her shoulders shook and her body trembled and she cried—not just the tears that managed to overflow the walls she’d built in her heart, but the ones that had lain trapped inside. She cried until she didn’t even know what she was crying about anymore.

  And then there was nothing.

  She woke up in her own bed, somewhere in the early hours before everyone else was awake. Jess was in a chair in the corner, her head leaned against the wall, chest rising and falling easily in sleep.

  And Daphne knew. When the bridge cleared and Araminta left, Daphne was going to be right behind her.

  Chapter thirty-seven

  For the next two days, William ignored Araminta. The more she complained, the farther away he stayed. He took Edmond and Derek and began packing up the items in the glass drawing room. While Derek scribbled in his ledger, William and Edmond wrapped the various articles in old linens and placed them in crates that had been found in a storage room.

  Daphne didn’t deliver any more trays.

  He didn’t go out onto the porch again. He was too afraid the next time they spoke she would say the words that killed his hope.

  “What are you going to do with this room? Oh, that’s a Ming vase. You should put that on display somewhere.” Derek wrote another line in his ledger, and Edmond added the blue-and-white vase to the small pile Derek had declared too precious to store.

  William wasn’t sure he liked them any better than the other pieces they’d put away, but there was a table in the saloon that would easily hold whatever Derek wanted left out. Daphne could always crate them up later if they didn’t fit with her vision for a particular room.

  “A billiard room,” William declared as he carefully picked up the next piece. “If this rain has taught me anything it’s that I need a few more indoor amusements around here.”

  “That would certainly be convenient, if you intend on spending more time here. It’s rather removed, though, for a marquis,” Derek replied.

  William really wished people would stop telling him that. It was almost as if God himself was trying to remind William of his obligations.

  Maybe He was.

  That didn’t mean William had to like it.

  William didn’t join her on the porch again, even though Daphne continued going out each night. The moon was starting to shrink now. In a few days there’d be nothing but stars in the night sky. Then the moon would grow again and the cycle would repeat. Time. Moving on the way it always did. Always would.

  Even though the rain had stopped, she hadn’t moved back down to the cottage. She was done lying to herself. For as long as she was here, she would be the housekeeper. She couldn’t pretend to be the mistress of a home.

  When the door opened behind her, she dug her fingers into the stone railing before turning her head. But it wasn’t William stepping out on the porch.

  It was Benedict.

  “Ben,” she said, reaching over to run a hand through his hair the way she’d done when he was younger. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Looking for you. The bridge should be passable tomorrow, so I’ll be going back. Mr. Leighton’s probably been able to do a lot without me there, but I should get back to work as soon as I can. I don’t want him to think I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

  Daphne rather thought Mr. Leighton would soon be willing to pay for the privilege of being a part of Benedict’s brilliant futur
e, but she kept that to herself. A little humility would do the boy well if his designs became as popular as she thought they would. “I’m sure he understands. He’s seen the bridge flood before.”

  Benedict nodded and then sat on the steps. “I’ve been lying in bed the past few nights, thinking one thing over and over. I did what you always said and I talked it out with God, even sat across from an empty chair like you do sometimes and pretended He was sitting there.”

  Daphne swallowed, tears burning the edges of her eyes. As far as legacies went, that was a rather nice one to be leaving her son. “And?”

  “And the question didn’t go away.” He swallowed hard. “And I think you know the answer.”

  Dread pooled in Daphne’s gut as she lowered herself onto the step next to him.

  Benedict rubbed a hand along his neck. “I understand my . . . well, my father, I understand him not coming. I’ve been in Marlborough a few months now and I’ve seen some of those dandies coming through from London. Some of them are more interested in making sure their boots are shiny than ensuring the proper fit of their horses’ harnesses. I guess I’m kinda thinking my father was like that.”

  Maxwell Oswald had never truly been a dandy, but he’d certainly been more concerned with power and social prestige than the well-being of anyone else, so the assessment was close enough.

  “But I have to know”— Ben’s voice grew raspy—“who was my mother? Why did she leave?”

  Daphne’s heart cried to tell him the truth, that his mother loved him enough to give up everything for him. But she couldn’t. Instead, she said, “A woman on her own is very vulnerable, Benedict. If she hasn’t the means to live on her own or the protection of someone who will support her, she has nowhere to go but the poorhouse.”

  “They buried a baby last week.” Benedict scuffed his foot and kicked a pebble down the steps. “I see things like that now, living in town.”

  The image stabbed Daphne in the heart. “We created Haven Manor so that you and Sarah and Reuben and the rest of them wouldn’t be that baby. We couldn’t save them all, Ben, but we did what we could.”

  “Why? Why keep taking us in?”

  Daphne smiled and cupped a hand around Benedict’s cheek. “Once your house is full, what’s one more? There were always hands to help and food to eat, though we all grew a bit tired of turnips.”

  “Why me, then? I was the first one. Why did you take me in?” The moon, waning though still bright, threw shadows across his face, deepening the strong lines and making him look older than his thirteen years. “Who was my mother? Because you took me in to save her, didn’t you? It wasn’t about me. It was about her. She pushed me away. And now I’m being pushed away again. Lord Chemsford has been nicer to me than I could have ever expected, but I know he doesn’t want me abovestairs right now. He doesn’t want to have to explain me. I know why he’d shove me away. But I need to know why she would.”

  What could she tell him? Would the truth help him or hurt him? And what about Sarah and Eugenia and Reuben, the ones who hadn’t yet reached the point of making a life for themselves? What would the truth do to them?

  “I came here for you,” she said quietly, deciding to go with the truth that truly mattered. “Whatever you may think, I want you to know that. You are all I was thinking of when I committed to raising you and other children like you. I love you more than I have ever loved anything in this world.”

  He leaned sideways and buried his head in her shoulder. She tried to wrap her arms around him, but he’d gotten so tall that the position was awkward and she had to settle for one arm across his shoulders.

  “Who was she?” he asked. “I have to know. I don’t want any more surprises, I don’t want to wonder. I just need to know so I can nail it up and move on. I want to stop thinking about it, Mama Daphne.”

  And because she would do anything for her son, she told him. “It was me.”

  His head snapped up and he looked at her. She wanted so badly to tear her gaze from those blue eyes, but she made herself stay steady. “I am your mother.”

  He jolted up, stumbling in the process. She reached out a hand to catch him, but in moments he was safely at the bottom of the stairs.

  And then he ran.

  The chaos in Daphne’s heart was matched by the upheaval in the house the next morning. Lady Chemsford was insisting on departing as soon as possible. Edmond declared he wanted to stay, while Lady Chemsford said she couldn’t leave her son in such a mudhole.

  Mr. Thornbury was moving glass and ceramic pieces to every room in the house, and no one was quite sure what William was trying to do, but he was getting in everyone’s way.

  Since Daphne still held the title of housekeeper, it meant sorting out the entire mess fell to her.

  It should have been Daphne’s worst nightmare, but it wasn’t. All she had to do was arrange her people in all the right places to make sure everyone had the help they needed. She directed the retrieval of Lady Chemsford’s trunks and the preparation of her carriage. She stationed maids throughout the house so anyone who needed help wouldn’t have to look far.

  Little by little, she brought control to the chaotic morning. The only issue she couldn’t resolve was the ongoing fight between Lady Chemsford and William over whether or not Edmond was staying.

  The first loaded trunk was being brought into the front hall when the front door flung open, breaking Daphne’s composure into bits.

  Kit, dressed in a gorgeous dark blue traveling dress and flower-bedecked bonnet that framed the enormous smile on her face, strode in only to stop dead when she saw Cyril setting the trunk down. “Oh dear.”

  Her new husband, Graham, followed her through the door. “What is it?”

  Their arrival was going to add a new wrench in the works, but for the moment Daphne didn’t care. She was so happy to see her friend. With a squeal, Daphne rushed passed a gaping Cyril and wrapped her arms around her friend.

  Once the hugging ended, Daphne stepped back and looked at the two of them. Kit had never appeared happier, even when she’d been pushing her way into London society before their lives had taken a drastic turn.

  “I think,” Graham said, casting an eye about the front hall, “Mrs. Lancaster has misinformed us. She said the new owner was out.”

  “Then Nash told us it was complicated with the new owner. He didn’t correct her about him being in residence, though.” Kit bit her lip. “Is he here?”

  “Oh yes,” Daphne whispered with a wince. “And the thing is, the new owner—”

  “If I were to make a guess, I would have to assume you’re Kit.”

  Daphne glanced over her shoulder to see that William had come to the door.

  Kit’s loud gasp was followed by Graham’s low chuckle. “I think, my dear, that Nash wanted us to be as surprised as he was.” Graham stepped forward. “Lord Wharton. I don’t know if you remember me from Harrow. I was a year or two behind you.”

  “I remember you. And to save all of us any unpleasantness, I can assure you I have already met Benedict.” He glanced back into the house. “I believe he’s around here somewhere, but there are other guests in the house at the moment whom he’s been avoiding. Won’t you come in?”

  Daphne could have told them Benedict was not, in fact, on the property anymore, as he’d run off into the woods the night before. The moon had cast enough light and he knew his way well, so she assumed he was safe. That didn’t mean she wasn’t worried about him, though.

  “What is going on here?” Kit whispered in Daphne’s ear.

  “More than I can tell you right now,” Daphne answered. “But you can assume he knows everything. His other guests, however, do not.”

  “Oh.” Kit twined her fingers with Daphne’s as they all stepped farther into the front hall so Cyril could close the door.

  Lady Chemsford strode in, grumbling about how slowly her luggage had been retrieved.

  Daphne dropped Kit’s hand and stepped away, resuming a housekeepe
r’s proper placement. Kit frowned in response, but thus far Daphne had managed to remain just beneath general notice, and she aimed to keep it that way. Looking chummy with the new Viscountess of Wharton wasn’t likely to do that.

  Lady Chemsford went from frowning to simpering in an instant. “Lord Wharton. I had no idea you were acquainted with Chemsford.”

  “Old schoolmates from Harrow,” Graham said with a slight bow. “My condolences on the loss of your husband.”

  He hadn’t given the same condolences to William, but then, Graham always seemed to know what other people needed to hear. It was one of the reasons he was so good at finding families that wouldn’t hold the by-blow birth of a child against them.

  As the group discussed the now-passable nature of the bridge, Daphne decided to see to the remainder of Lady Chemsford’s trunks. With Kit here for a visit, Daphne wanted the other woman gone as soon as possible. Before Daphne could exit the front hall, though, a knock sounded on the front door.

  “Apparently we weren’t the only ones waiting for the path here to become clear,” Graham said as Cyril moved to answer the door.

  Daphne told herself to keep moving, that it didn’t matter who was at the door because it was sure to be someone to see William. But life was turning into a small world, and so she looked back, needing to know if the new arrival was someone who might know her. With Kit on the premises, it was far more likely someone might notice Daphne.

  Or it might be the only other person besides Kit who would recognize Daphne anywhere.

  Her father was standing on the threshold.

  There was no way he wasn’t going to notice Kit’s attendance.

  “Hullo there!” Papa said cheerfully. “There was an update on the factory and I thought I’d bring it to you myself. I took the stage in and had to wait because the rain covered the bridge. Fortunately, I ran into your cousin at the inn, and he was coming this way and gave me a ride.”