The Last Duke (Thornton 1)

Taking a deep breath, Daphne poured out her situation.

“I had nowhere else to turn,” she concluded, watching her mother’s features soften with compassion. “Nor did I know when Father was returning, else I wouldn’t have disturbed you so early. But I was afraid that if I waited, I’d run the risk of his overhearing us. Mama,” Daphne’s voice quavered, “I must do something.”

Slowly, Elizabeth nodded, her chin set in a rare expression of determination. “Yes, you must. As must I.”

Daphne started. “But what if Father—”

“The missive I received from your father said he wouldn’t arrive home until late this afternoon.” As she spoke, Elizabeth leaned over and slid open her nightstand drawer, reaching in to grope around. “Therefore, if we act quickly, we shan’t have to take him on.” A triumphant glint lit her eyes, and she pulled out a small velvet jewelcase. “This should do nicely.” Unfastening it, she extracted a grotesquely large ruby-and-sapphire brooch. “It will bring you a handsome sum, more than enough to feed the parish children.”

A soft gasp escaped Daphne’s lips. “I don’t recall ever seeing that particular piece.”

“I rarely wear it.” Elizabeth grinned wryly. “It’s gruesome, isn’t it?”

“But, I don’t understand. Why didn’t the bandit take it the night of the burglary?”

“I had loaned it to Aunt Edith toward the end of this past Season. She thinks it a rare prize, but then, it’s much more her taste than mine. In any event, she only just returned it.” Turning the heavy brooch over in her hands, Elizabeth sighed. “In truth, I’d hoped she’d forget to do so. Heirloom or not, I hate it. So does Harwick. He never even noticed its absence.” Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled as she extended her hand to Daphne. “As things, turned out, however, I’m glad the monstrosity is back in my possession. It can provide food and clothing to those who need them.”

“Mama.”

“Take it, Daphne. You know as well as I that I was once as dedicated as you to the poor. We also know why I ceased my attempts to help them. My only way now is through you. So take the brooch. Find a jeweler who will pay dearly for it. Then take the money to the vicar. Do it today, before Harwick returns.”

Tears of gratitude clogged Daphne’s throat. “Thank you, Mama,” she whispered.

Elizabeth held out her arms. “I’m so very proud of you, Daphne. I don’t dare say it unless we’re alone. But I am.”

With a choked sound, Daphne leaned into her mother’s embrace. “It will all turn out well, Mama,” she vowed. “You’ll see.”

After a long, silent moment, Elizabeth cleared her throat. “When you asked to speak with me, I thought at first it might have something to do with Mr. Thorn—the Duke of Markham,” she amended.

Daphne drew back, startled. “You know?”

“Know what? That you’re drawn to him? That there’s something between the two of you—probably more than even I suspect? I’ve lost my youth, Daphne, not my intuition. I’m still a woman, and I remember what it’s like to fall in love.” A faraway look came into her eyes, a memory of a woman who was no longer, a love not destined to be.

Studying her mother’s face, Daphne was struck by a sudden realization, one she was amazed she’d never before considered. “The way you say that—there was someone else in your life, wasn’t there, Mama? Someone before Father?”

Elizabeth lowered her gaze. “That was many years ago, and ill fated from the start. There’s little point in dredging it up now. Besides,” she took Daphne’s hand between both of hers. “I’d rather hear about you and the duke.”

“You’re not shocked?”

“Why would I be? He’s handsome, charming, and, from what I witnessed at Newmarket, both clever and charismatic. Not to mention that he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

“Mama.” Daphne moistened her lips. “Pierce and Father—”

“Do business together,” Elizabeth supplied. “I’ve noticed the duke arrive at Tragmore several times for meetings with Harwick. I’ve also glimpsed him leaving the manor—but not the grounds. I presume he was seeking you out.”

“Yes, he was. Mama,” Daphne tried again, “I know Father conducts business with Pierce. But that doesn’t mean he’d accept him as my suitor.”

Elizabeth nodded resignedly. “I don’t pretend to concur with your father’s ideas on class distinction. But, i

n this case, the point is a moot one. True, last week your Pierce was a commoner. But all that’s changed now. He’s a duke. And even Harwick can find no objection to your association with such a high-ranking nobleman.”

Daphne bit her tongue, wishing she could blurt out the truth: that her mother was wrong, that the enmity existing between Pierce and her father went far deeper than the difference in their social standing.

“You care for him a great deal, don’t you?” Elizabeth pressed softly.

“You sound like Mr. Chambers.”

A faint smile. “Do I?”