fifty between them. Would you like for Gareth to find you one of those sorts?”
“No, but I don’t see your point.” She hadn’t lied. There were many couples with more than one generation separating them.
“Most marriages with such a significant age gap is because the marriage is arranged, it’s business...” she met Daphne’s eyes and impaled them, “not love.”
Jane’s words hit Daphne like a snowball square to the chest and before Daphne could form a response, Jane was speaking again.
“Whether you’re intending to or not, I think you’re dismissing Mr. Lentz's interest because you’re concerned about what others will think.”
This time Jane’s words were the equivalent of a pianoforte being pushed down the staircase. “You're right.” Daphne already knew that, but to hear Jane put voice to it made her mind reel in every direction.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
Daphne started. “Of course.”
Jane lowered her hand to her abdomen. “Gareth and I haven't told anyone, but next year at this time we'll be a family of three.”
“You will?”
Smiling, Jane said, “I wouldn't have Gareth or the joy of having a new life grow inside of me if Gareth hadn't told Michael to go hang, he was marrying me.”
Shame flooded Daphne for her resistance of Aaron and the feelings she had for him. “Thank you, Jane,” she said softly. “I know exactly what I must do.”
Chapter Eight
Later that Night
At the Ball
Not for the first time since Aaron had told Daphne the extent of his feelings, he was tempted to regret having told her. Not that it mattered so much, he'd lain his heart at her feet and she'd trampled it. It would have happened the same way either here or in London had he waited to pursue her then, he supposed. He nearly snorted, which would have been quite painful since he'd just taken in a deep sip of his champagne punch.
It all mattered not. What was done was done. It was over between them. Sure last night, he'd noticed her looking in his direction, but she'd never come up to talk to him or even gestured him to come to her. He sighed. That wouldn't be happening any more than ladies of the ton would stop their matchmaking schemes.
“How have you enjoyed your visit?” The duke's voice caught him unaware.
Aaron swallowed his discomfort and forced a smile. How ironic the only gentleman he'd ever known to play matchmaker had to pick this very moment to appear. “Very much so. Thank you for inviting me.”
“I'm glad to hear it.”
“Ah, love has been in the air this trip, my boy.” Danby said, idly rubbing his hands together.
“Do I need to perform a wedding tomorrow?” Aaron fought the tension in his shoulders. When the duke didn't respond, Aaron added, “Two?”
Danby shook his head, a slight smile on his lips.
“Three? Four?” Aaron stared at the still smiling man. Gads, how many of his grandchildren had he unwillingly shoved into holy matrimony? “I draw the line at five, Your Grace. Your hospitality was good, but not that good.” Aaron half-expected the man to at least chuckle at that. He did not.
“And what of the company?” Danby wondered as he looked out over the crush of finely dressed people congregated in his ballroom.
“You have a very nice family.”
At that, the duke did laugh. Loudly. “And I'd wager you'd like to become part of my very nice family.”
Aaron fisted his hands in his pockets and forced a shrug.
“Come, boy,” the duke said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I have matters to discuss with you.”
As if by sheer will of their own, Aaron's heavy feet followed the duke out of the ballroom and down a dimly lit hall. “Couldn't we have discussed this in the ballroom,” Aaron wondered aloud as they passed another sconce that hadn't been lit.
“No.” The duke thumped his cane on the hardwood floor. “This matter is of the utmost importance and must be discussed in private.”
Aaron doubted that. Well,
“No, but I don’t see your point.” She hadn’t lied. There were many couples with more than one generation separating them.
“Most marriages with such a significant age gap is because the marriage is arranged, it’s business...” she met Daphne’s eyes and impaled them, “not love.”
Jane’s words hit Daphne like a snowball square to the chest and before Daphne could form a response, Jane was speaking again.
“Whether you’re intending to or not, I think you’re dismissing Mr. Lentz's interest because you’re concerned about what others will think.”
This time Jane’s words were the equivalent of a pianoforte being pushed down the staircase. “You're right.” Daphne already knew that, but to hear Jane put voice to it made her mind reel in every direction.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
Daphne started. “Of course.”
Jane lowered her hand to her abdomen. “Gareth and I haven't told anyone, but next year at this time we'll be a family of three.”
“You will?”
Smiling, Jane said, “I wouldn't have Gareth or the joy of having a new life grow inside of me if Gareth hadn't told Michael to go hang, he was marrying me.”
Shame flooded Daphne for her resistance of Aaron and the feelings she had for him. “Thank you, Jane,” she said softly. “I know exactly what I must do.”
Chapter Eight
Later that Night
At the Ball
Not for the first time since Aaron had told Daphne the extent of his feelings, he was tempted to regret having told her. Not that it mattered so much, he'd lain his heart at her feet and she'd trampled it. It would have happened the same way either here or in London had he waited to pursue her then, he supposed. He nearly snorted, which would have been quite painful since he'd just taken in a deep sip of his champagne punch.
It all mattered not. What was done was done. It was over between them. Sure last night, he'd noticed her looking in his direction, but she'd never come up to talk to him or even gestured him to come to her. He sighed. That wouldn't be happening any more than ladies of the ton would stop their matchmaking schemes.
“How have you enjoyed your visit?” The duke's voice caught him unaware.
Aaron swallowed his discomfort and forced a smile. How ironic the only gentleman he'd ever known to play matchmaker had to pick this very moment to appear. “Very much so. Thank you for inviting me.”
“I'm glad to hear it.”
“Ah, love has been in the air this trip, my boy.” Danby said, idly rubbing his hands together.
“Do I need to perform a wedding tomorrow?” Aaron fought the tension in his shoulders. When the duke didn't respond, Aaron added, “Two?”
Danby shook his head, a slight smile on his lips.
“Three? Four?” Aaron stared at the still smiling man. Gads, how many of his grandchildren had he unwillingly shoved into holy matrimony? “I draw the line at five, Your Grace. Your hospitality was good, but not that good.” Aaron half-expected the man to at least chuckle at that. He did not.
“And what of the company?” Danby wondered as he looked out over the crush of finely dressed people congregated in his ballroom.
“You have a very nice family.”
At that, the duke did laugh. Loudly. “And I'd wager you'd like to become part of my very nice family.”
Aaron fisted his hands in his pockets and forced a shrug.
“Come, boy,” the duke said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I have matters to discuss with you.”
As if by sheer will of their own, Aaron's heavy feet followed the duke out of the ballroom and down a dimly lit hall. “Couldn't we have discussed this in the ballroom,” Aaron wondered aloud as they passed another sconce that hadn't been lit.
“No.” The duke thumped his cane on the hardwood floor. “This matter is of the utmost importance and must be discussed in private.”
Aaron doubted that. Well,
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