And not because she was particularly close to the housekeeper, just because she had no one else.
But she didn't call out, and Mrs. Colson left the room.
Daphne picked up a biscuit and bit into it. Maybe, she thought, it was time to go home.
Chapter 19
The new Duchess of Hastings was spotted in Mayfair today. Philipa Featherington saw the former Miss Daphne Bridgerton taking a bit of air as she walked briskly around the block. Miss Featherington called out to her, but the duchess pretended not to hear.
And we know the duchess must have been pretending, for after all, one would have to be deaf to let one of Miss Featherington's shouts go unnoticed.
LADY WHISTLEDOWN'S SOCIETY PAPERS, 9 June 1813
Heartache, Daphne eventually learned, never really went away; it just dulled. The sharp, stabbing pain that one felt with each breath eventually gave way to a blunter, lower ache—the kind that one could almost—but never quite—ignore.
She left Castle Clyvedon the day after Simon's departure, heading to London with every intention of returning to Bridgerton House. But going back to her family's house somehow seemed like an admission of failure, and so at the last minute, she instructed the driver to take her to Hastings House instead. She would be near her family if she felt the need for their support and companionship, but she was a married woman now; she should reside in her own home.
And so she introduced herself to her new staff, who accepted her without question (but not without a considerable amount of curiosity), and set about her new life as an abandoned wife.
Her mother was the first to come calling. Daphne hadn't bothered to notify anyone else of her return to London, so this was not terribly surprising.
“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.”