Tale of Obsession: Courting Daphne Ch. 11

Leander was still deep in thoughts when the Duke finally arrived, clothed in black as he always was. The general rose to greet him, but the Duke ordered him to remain seated.

"I have read the reports of your campaign," the Duke said without preamble as he sat on the chair at the other side of the desk. "I must say, I'm quite impressed, especially when you were able to get Northcove to arm for Thersalian cause."

"I'm afraid it's not my efforts that convinced him to do so, Your Grace," Leander admitted. "It was your daughter who recruited Northcove to our side."

The Duke merely nodded, before discussing with him the details of his campaign. A servant came and went, bearing drinks and snacks, and the only things the Duke and the general talked about were the events of the recent war. Leander felt uneasy, knowing that Daphne's father did not ask for a meeting merely to recount his experiences in the battlefield. As each minute ticked by, his apprehension increased, reaching its peak just as they were - finally! - going over the details of what happened in Northcove.

"I understand that this Sylvia woman had been your mistress?"

Leander attested to the certainty of the Duke's information. "She was also the one who sent reports of what went on in our camp to Norcross."

The man's icy stare made him uneasy. "And this woman, together with the others who aided her, are imprisoned in Northcove right now?"

"Yes, Your Grace." Gods, why would he not get to the heart of the matter? Surely, he must know the truth in every boring detail of the written reports sent to him? "The Duke of Northcove has expressed his wish, however, that the prisoners be transferred to Thersalian land as soon as possible."

"Very well." Wildercross leaned back on his seat, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. It reminded Leander of Daphne's habit of doing the same thing, and he was once again struck by the acute realization that she was a Wildercross through and through. "Am I to assume, then, that things are quite in order now?"

He confirmed it. "As much as they can be put in order in such a short time, Your Grace."

When the man nodded and his icy countenance returned, Leander knew that the moment has come for them to discuss the real reason why he was sent to the Duke's study.

"I received information that you are my daughter's lover." Wildercross raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"

Feeling his guts tightening, Leander nodded. "Yes, Your Grace."

"Hmm." The man stood up, walking to the window, whose parted curtains allowed him to see the view outside. "When did you become her lover?"

As Leander answered the question, he realized where the Duke was heading to. He first claimed Daphne while the armies of Elgeshore and Thersale were at war -- when he was still officially working for the Duke of Wildercross. As such, he was expected to carry out the duties given to him exactly as they were -- at least, when it comes to the Duke's daughter.

"You are aware, of course, that you disobeyed my command the moment you took her?" Wildercross asked. "You were specifically asked to search for Daphne and bring her home. True, I asked you to fight for Thersalian cause, yet, your priority was in finding her. You were allowed to kill as many enemies as you could and to take women as prizes, but you were not to lay a finger on my daughter." The Duke paused and glanced back at him. "Is that right?"

Leander decided to remain silent. He would not speak to add fuel to the fire raging within the Duke. He knew that even though the man kept his front, deep inside, Daphne's father wanted him dead for what he has done.

"I trusted you to keep her safe," the Duke continued, turning his back on Leander once again. Whatever it was that he found interesting outside must be keeping his attentions. "I expected you to send her safely home when your duty to the kingdom conflicted with the specific duty I placed upon your shoulders. But, you decided to keep her with you." He took a deep breath, perhaps to control his mounting anger. "Had something terrible happened to Daphne, you would not have been given the opportunity to face me and offer any explanation. You would have been dead a long time ago."

The general knew, of course, that the Duke was right. He placed Daphne's life in danger when he decided to keep her. He even left her in the care of a very few men when he had to fight the army of the son of Elgeshore's king. Leander has realized that months ago, when he left Daphne in Northcove during the last bouts of war. It was the exact reason why he did not let her come with him even though she had begged him to.

"Forgive me, Your Grace," he managed to say. "It was a lapse in judgment. I wanted to be with her even for a while. I'm deeply sorry to have thought about myself before thinking about her."

"It's in the past, Van Halen. Nothing terrible happened to her, which is lucky for you. But, how many more lapses in judgment will prevent you from doing what's best for my child?"

He used the Duke's own words to answer the question. "As you said, my lord, it was all in the past. To judge my future decisions due to a previous poor performance is rather unfair. I swear on my honour as a man that I will never let anything terrible happen to Daphne."

The Duke faced him again. "And you expect me to trust you? Like you said, you made a poor performance in the past -- "

"And I intend never to do that again," he insisted.

"Ha!" The Duke returned to the desk, standing across from Leander, looking as irritated as Leander never saw him before. "A man's promise to the one who fathered his beloved. You expect me to believe that? I have known far too many men to know that not everyone keeps his words."

"Not every one of them is Leander Van Halen." He looked straight into the Duke's eyes. "Give me the chance to prove my words and my honour, Your Grace. You will not regret it."

Wildercross placed his hands on the desk, leaning forward with narrowed eyes to scrutinize him. "I won't regret it? I already regret hiring you to bring my daughter home. You talk about honour, yet, what honour led you to claim a woman against her will? Will you try to tell me that my daughter was willing to let you have her when you first took her? Will you, Van Halen? Because, I'm telling, I will not believe it."

"Yet it's the truth." He remembered the first time he claimed Daphne. He gave her a choice; she decided to let him take her.

"Let's say it is," the Duke argued. "Was she sober when she gave you her permission? Or was she drunk with pleasure? Were you seducing her?"

Unwilling to disclose any detail of his sexual experiences to the Duke, Leander remained silent. The man, it seemed, was not waiting for his response anyway.

"Tell me!" the Duke continued to rage on. In all the years of his life, Leander never knew that this man -- the Duke of Wildercross -- was capable of losing such control. He was always depicted as the cold-hearted, icy-faced Duke who never let anyone see through his facade; who knew that the subject of his daughter would show the fire he was hiding inside? "What honourable man seduces his lord's daughter, especially when she is so vulnerable?"

Leander did not hesitate on his reply. "A man desperately in love with her, my lord."

"Love." The arching of Wildercross's eyebrows displayed a life-long cynicism -- or so it seemed to Leander. "You dare to speak of love? Not everything in this world is about love, General. You, of all people, should know that above all, there is duty. For it was your duty to fight for the kingdom. It was your duty to protect Thersalians. It was your duty to guard my daughter."

"Forgive my insolence, but Your Grace, of all people, should know that I spent my whole life fulfilling my duties," he responded. "Yet, I cannot live life that way; I refuse to. Because if I do, I would be labelled inhumane." He looked at the Duke levelly. "Heartless. Cruel."

The slight narrowing of the Duke's eyes told Leander that the man knew exactly how to read between the lines. Strangely enough, he said nothing about the general's attack. Instead, he said, "The way you are presenting yourself to me, General, I must conclude that you are not a man who can control my daughter. She's got you wrapped around her little finger."

"It will entertain me very much to prove you wrong," Leander challenged. "Besides, my lord, Daphne does not need any man -- anyone -- to control her."

"No wonder why you allow her to run wild," the Duke said, now getting back his composure as he sat on his chair. "Letting her visit you in your room when everybody's watching her every move..."

"If it keeps her happy and out of trouble, then, yes, Your Grace, I do let her do that," he answered.

"It is hurting her reputation, Van Halen."

"As long as it does not hurt anything else about her," Leander replied. "Life is more than mere reputation, Your Grace."

The Duke shook his head, getting up from his chair and opening the bottle of wine on top of the nearby table. "What do you need to leave Daphne, Van Halen? Lands, gold, rank -- name anything and it is yours, as long as you never show yourself to my daughter again."

He never expected himself to cross words with Wildercross, but the circumstances were asking for it. "You can offer the whole world to me, Your Grace, and I will still refuse. She is worth to me more than life itself."

"Does it never occur to you that I can take that life away from you in an instant?"

"I'm sure you can," he said. "But if you want to, I won't be sitting here conversing with you."

"You are an impossible bastard, Leander Van Halen," hissed the Duke, who returned to the desk with two glasses of wine, one of which he offered to the general. "You tempt me to send you to the next available executioner."

"Then do so, my lord, if it pleases you," Leander said, shrugging. He could not place what it was, yet, there was something about the Duke's countenance that made Leander think the man was actually amused by the whole conversation. "But let me love Daphne until my very last breath."

The Duke leaned back on his chair, watching the wine inside the crystal glass as he made it swirl. "I once loved a woman, too, General." He paused to shake his head. "And you're right. The woman you love is worth more than anything, even everything, in the whole world. But you must keep it in your heart that, when duty calls, you must answer, even if it means letting that woman go."

Leander never thought he would be brave enough to pry into Wildercross's life, but there was no other way to keep the conversation going. "Is that why you let her go?"

"I would never have let her out of my sight otherwise," the Duke responded. And, much to Leander's surprise, he smiled, if bitterly. After a sip of the wine, he added, "She was the most amazing woman in this world." He paused, raising an eyebrow at the general. "Daphne is proof of that."

"Did it make you happy?" Leander inquired. "Letting her go?"

"It was never about my happiness," the Duke confessed, sipping from the glass again. "I had no choice."

"Do you think it made her happy?" he asked, now remembering Daphne's mother, remembering how the Duchess used to cry for apparently no reason at all.

Daphne's father shook his head. "Anna understood. She knew there was nothing we could do, regardless of whether she is happy about the arrangement or not."

Seeing the sadness that crept into the Duke's eyes made Leander wonder aloud, "What is worth more than the happiness of the woman you love?"

Again, that bitter smile crossed the Duke's face as he counted off his fingers. "The peace of my kingdom. The security of my people. The future of my daughter." Then, looking intently at Leander, "and of my son."

Leander stiffened. Son? The Duke has three legitimate sons by his wife, but, surely, he could not be talking about them? "Your son?"

"Lord Zachary, courtesy Marquis of Leraid," came the reply. "My own flesh; my own blood."

The general merely nodded, drinking his wine. He had seen the styled Lord Leraid before; the boy is the future Duke of Brayhorn, after all. And nobody who had seen the Marquis would doubt that he was a Wildercross, for he was in fact the younger replica of his father. It was a secret everybody knew, although neither the Duke and Duchess of Brayhorn nor the Duke of Wildercross ever confirmed it. Until now.

"I do hope, my lord, that there are no such duties that prevent you from granting me permission to stay with Daphne and make her happy?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"I'm disappointed that there is none," admitted the Duke, "yet, there are things that you need to understand, General." He stood up to get the bottle of wine he opened earlier. "Daphne has spoken her mind to me. I know she favours you, perhaps even loves you. She wants to be with you for the rest of her life." He stared at Leander when he finally sat back on his chair. "But there are decisions that are yours to make alone. Listen to what I have to say, forget your feelings for a while, and use your head."

Leander frowned. "You have me puzzled, Your Grace."

"Good." Wildercross poured wine to both of their glasses. "I hope you have not made arrangements for the rest of the day. There are things we need to talk about."

*****

"Sister!" Leonard, courtesy Marquis of Raidencourt, heir apparent of the Duke of Wildercross, called Daphne as he and his brothers were heading for the stables. "Would you like to join us?"

Daphne, who had been brooding ever since she learned that Leander was called to her father's study, approached the boys. Leonard was fourteen, already looking very much like a man. Tall and fair, his hair as blonde as Daphne's, he was ready to break young girls' hearts. Anthony was two years younger than Leonard, but looking as mature and handsome as his brother. The youngest, Jeremy, was but nine, and was the recipient of his brothers' constant teasing, but the boy was a playful one, too, and never took offense.

She had observed that none of the three were close to their mother, the Duchess of Wildercross. Not that Daphne was surprised. When your mother was as frigid and dispiriting as Lady Cornelia, you would most likely not want to be with her.

"Where are you going?" she asked the boys.

"Horseback riding," answered Jeremy, beaming at her. He then pointed to the north, where a hill as located. "We will go to the top of the hill, urge our horses to a canter, and then make them run for a race once we're down, or at least when we feel like making them run is not dangerous anymore."

"So, do you want to come?" asked Leonard. "The Duke purchased more horses a few months ago, so you have a lot of them to choose from."

The smile on the Marquis's lips told Daphne that her brother has not forgotten her fascination with horses. She smiled back. "Sure. A warning, though." She paused for effect. "Get ready for a sound defeat."

"Oh, this girl has got guts," Anthony said, grinning. "Don't you need to change into a riding habit first, though?"

"Who needs that?" Daphne asked, leading them to the stables.

A quarter of an hour later, she was sitting sidesaddle on her father's favourite white stallion, Whitespark, amidst the objections of her brothers and the Stablemaster.

"You know that His Grace's horses are exclusively for his own personal use, right?" Jeremy asked, urging her to dismount. "Come on, Sister, you don't want to see him enraged!"

Daphne would not be dissuaded, though. "I've always wanted to ride Whitespark, and today seems to be the right time."

"Please, my lady," the Stablemaster pleaded, pale and sweating as he tried to negotiate. "I assure you that His Grace's stable has the finest horses in the land. I will give you the fastest of the lot if only you would not bring Whitespark out."

"No, I'm fine with him." Daphne leaned forward and stroked the animal's neck. "We'll make a great team, won't we, Whitespark?" Then, turning to the Stablemaster, she said, "Besides, you already put the saddle on him. It's all right. Papa will probably never know as long as none of you speak of it."

Leonard drew a deep breath. "You are very troublesome, Daphne. If His Grace finds out, we will all miss dinner tonight."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, it's good to fast sometimes so that you may realize how hard it is for most people to earn their meals." She turned to the Stablemaster again. "Worry not. I will tell the Duke that I stole the horse if bad comes to worst."

Knowing fully well that Daphne could not be asked to change her mind, the Stablemaster bowed low before leaving the Duke's children.

"So, are we starting the race or not?" Daphne asked, urging Whitespark to walk towards the hill to the north.

Anthony burst out laughing as he followed his sister. "Oh, you really have some guts!"

Daphne smiled, feeling a sense of triumph as the four of them headed for the hilltop. She only wanted her father to know that she was as stubborn as she had been all those years back. She wanted to tell him through insubordination that, whatever he did, she would not succumb to his wishes -- if he wanted her to leave Leander, that is.

As soon as they were at the top, Leonard began the countdown for the race. Daphne led Whitespark to a canter, eager for the moment when she could urge him to run.

The exercise vividly reminded her of her younger days, when she would go out riding with her father and his company. She had been taught how to ride since she was five, and by the time she was seven, her father allowed her to join his hunting party as long as she had two companions who were always riding close to her. Their party would use the top of this hill as starting point, too, riding out to the western part of the duchy where the forest was found. Her favourite part was when they would see a game and run after it, for it was when she could urge her horse to a run and get away with whatever pace she used.

Always, Daphne found the activity exhilarating. With the cold breeze on her face and the sweet scent of the grass and the earth greeting her nose, Daphne felt as free as the wind itself, unpinning her hair and undoing the intricate style her ladies-in-waiting took pains applying to it.

It was, for her, still the best way to take her mind off things, and it was on this very moment that she wanted herself to stop pondering the fate of her affair with Leander. She knew that her father called the general to talk about it -- and how long their conversation was! Her worry had turned to brooding silence and restlessness and might have evolved to bouts of anger if her brothers did not provide a way for her to unwind.

She remembered Anthony Renard's warning, whispered to her the night they arrived at Wildercross, when Leander was busy talking to other generals at the party her father held for Thersalian victory in the war:

"Your father was outraged when he found out that Leander took you as his lover. My spies told me that it was the first and only time they saw the Duke lose control, and for a time, they were afraid that he would send assassins to kill Van Halen in Elgeshore. The only thing that might have made him reconsider was the fact that Leander is one of his best generals and he needed him. Now, the war's over, and your father can do anything he wishes to Van Halen. If he is as just as I think he is, he will only send Leander away with an order never to return to Thersale. But if he deems the violation of your innocence the highest crime, Leander will lose his head. If the latter happens, may you forgive yourself for convincing him never to leave you, for I'm telling you that I never will."

She dismissed Anthony then with an angry remonstration -- perhaps because she knew that he was right. Anthony was Leander's best friend, and Daphne knew that the two men were like brothers. She knew how Anthony cared for Leander, and how Leander cared for Anthony in return. They shared a bond of friendship like no other, and Daphne understands Anthony's resentment of her, for he thinks that she brought nothing but ill fortune to Leander.