The Duke and I (Bridgertons, #1)(96)

"Where is he?" Violet demanded without preamble.

"My husband, I presume?"

"No, your great-uncle Edmund," Violet practically snapped. "Of course I mean your husband."

Daphne didn't quite meet her mother's eyes as she said, "I believe that he is tending to affairs at one of his country estates."

"You believe?"

"Well, I know," Daphne amended.

"And do you know why you are not with him?"

Daphne considered lying. She considered brazening it out and telling her mother some nonsense



about an emergency involving tenants and maybe some livestock or disease or anything. But in the end, her lip quivered, and her eyes started to prick with tears, and her voice was terribly small, as she said, "Because he did not choose to take me with him."

Violet took her hands. "Oh, Daff," she sighed, "what happened?"

Daphne sank onto a sofa, pulling her mother along with her. "More than I could ever explain."

"Do you want to try?"

Daphne shook her head. She'd never, not even once in her life, kept a secret from her mother.

There had never been anything she didn't feel she could discuss with her.

But there had never been this. She patted her mother's hand. "I'll be all right."

Violet looked unconvinced. "Are you certain?"

"No." Daphne stared at the floor for a moment. "But I have to believe it, anyway."

Violet left, and Daphne placed her hand on her abdomen and prayed.





*



Colin was the next to visit. About a week later, Daphne returned from a quick walk in the park to find him standing in her drawing room, arms crossed, expression furious.

"Ah," Daphne said, pulling off her gloves, "I see you've learned of my return."

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

Colin, Daphne reflected wryly, had clearly not inherited their mother's talent for subtlety in speech.

"Speak!" he barked.

She closed her eyes for a moment. Just a moment to try to relieve the headache that had been plaguing her for days. She didn't want to tell her woes to Colin. She didn't even want to tell him as much as she told her mother, although she supposed he already knew. News always traveled fast at Bridgerton House.

She wasn't really sure where she got the energy, but there was a certain fortifying benefit to putting up a good front, so she squared her shoulders, raised a brow, and said, "And by that you mean ... ?"

"I mean," Colin growled, "where is your husband?"





"He is otherwise occupied," Daphne replied. It sounded so much better than, "He left me."

"Daphne..."Colin's voice held no end of warning.

"Are you here alone?" she asked, ignoring his tone.

"Anthony and Benedict are in the country for the month, if that's what you mean," Colin said.

Daphne very nearly sighed with relief. The last thing she needed just then was to face her eldest brother. She'd already prevented him from killing Simon once; she wasn't sure if she'd be able to manage the feat a second time. Before she could say anything, however, Colin added, "Daphne, I am ordering you right now to tell me where the bastard is hiding."

Daphne felt her spine stiffening. She might have the right to call her errant husband nasty names, but her brother certainly didn't. "I assume," she said icily, "that by 'that bastard' you refer to my husband."

"You're damned right I—"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Colin looked at her as if she'd suddenly sprouted horns. "I beg your pardon?"

"I don't care to discuss my marriage with you, so if you cannot refrain from offering your unsolicited opinions, you're going to have to leave."

"You can't ask me to leave," he said in disbelief.

She crossed her arms. "This is my house."

Colin stared at her, then looked around the room— the drawing room of the Duchess of

Hastings—then looked back at Daphne, as if just realizing that his little sister, whom he'd always viewed as rather jolly extension of himself, had become her own woman.

He reached out and took her hand. "Daff," he said quietly, "I'll let you handle this as you see fit."

"Thank you."

"For now," he warned. "Don't think I'll let this situation continue indefinitely."

But it wouldn't, Daphne thought a half hour later as Colin left the house. It couldn't continue indefinitely. Within a fortnight, she would know.





*



Every morning Daphne woke to find she was holding her breath. Even before her courses were



due to arrive, she bit her lip, said a little prayer, and gingerly peeled back the covers of her bed and looked for blood.

And every morning she saw nothing but snowy white linen.

A week after her courses were due, she allowed herself the first glimmerings of hope. Her courses had never been perfectly punctual; they could, she reasoned, still arrive at any time. But still, she had never been quite this late...