Chapter 168 - 167: Daphne and Her Truth!

"Because it seemed insignificant at the time, and you were too difficult." Eleanore said, a note of frustration creeping into her own voice now, directed as much at herself as anyone. "But now, hearing this—" she paused, the pieces settling into place with an unpleasant kind of clarity. "Victor, I think it might be the same man who poisoned Stella."

The room went silent for a moment. Victor’s jaw tightened, and Caelestis’s hand found Eleanore’s on, steadying, though his own expression had gone hard with something close to alarm.

"What makes you think that?" Victor asked carefully.

"The timing," Eleanore said. "It was around the same period Stella was poisoned. And there was something about him, I couldn’t place it then, but looking back, he felt like someone who didn’t belong in that garden at all. Like he was there for a reason, not by accident."

Victor was quiet for a long moment, clearly turning the information over, recalculating whatever picture he’d already started building in his head. "If that’s true, this isn’t just some strange wanderer causing unease. This is someone with a purpose, and he’s been circling closer than we realized."

"Can you find him?" Caelestis asked, his voice low and edged with something protective.

"I’ll find him," Victor said, and there was no hesitation in it, only the quiet certainty of a man who took threats to this family personally. "If he’s the one who hurt Lady Stella, and if he’s been anywhere near Eleanore, I want him found before he gets the chance to get close again." He was already moving toward the door, mind clearly racing ahead to next steps, but he paused at the threshold, glancing back. "Until then — both of you, stay alert. Whoever he is, he’s not just wandering by accident."

The door clicked shut behind him, and the quiet that followed felt heavier than before, the fragile peace of the previous night edged now with something colder, sharper, waiting just beneath the surface.

---

Daphne arrived at Lancaster Mansion a little past noon, announced properly this time, which already put her one step ahead of most of the household’s recent visitors. She was shown into the front sitting room by one of the staff, and it was there, waiting for Eleanore to be notified of her arrival, that the familiar prickle of unease crept back into her chest.

It happened every time she came here. Something about the mansion, the quiet efficiency of it, the way the staff moved like everything had been rehearsed a hundred times over, the careful, composed manner Eleanore always carried even in her own home. Set something faintly on edge in Daphne’s mind. She couldn’t name it. She’d tried, more than once, to pin down exactly what it was that made her instincts tighten whenever she visited, and every time she came up empty-handed.

It’s nothing, she told herself, the same way she always did. You’ve just spent too long around people who aren’t what they seem. Not everyone’s hiding something.

She was still working on convincing herself of that when Eleanore appeared in the doorway, looking marginally more rested than the last time they’d seen each other, though there was something newly guarded in her expression that Daphne filed away for later.

"Lady Daphne." Eleanore’s smile was warm, genuine. "This is a nice surprise."

"I was in the area," Daphne said, which wasn’t entirely true, but close enough. "Thought I’d stop by before you got too swept up in whatever chaos usually happens in this house."

"You have impeccable timing, then. The chaos hasn’t started yet today."

It started roughly four minutes later.

They’d barely made it out of the sitting room and into the hallway when Adena rounded the corner at speed, arms full of what looked like fabric swatches, clearly midway through some tea party related emergency.

"Eleanore! I need your opinion on—" She stopped short at the sight of Daphne, eyes narrowing slightly with the particular suspicion she reserved for anyone she considered a threat to her current campaign. "Oh. You’re here."

"Lady Adena," Eleanore said, in the flat, bracing tone of someone who already knew exactly where this was going.

"I need to know if lavender or sage is better for tablecloths. The stamp says I get final say, but apparently that doesn’t mean anything in this house unless you also approve it."

"That’s because the stamp doesn’t override common sense, and lavender will look washed out in the afternoon light of that room."

"You just don’t like lavender."

"I don’t like a color scheme that makes the entire event look like a hospital waiting room, no."

Adena’s mouth opened, already loading up whatever retort came next, but Daphne, watching this unfold with mild, detached amusement, cut in before it could fully launch.

"For what it’s worth," Daphne said, "sage does photograph better. Lavender tends to wash out unless the lighting’s very specific."

Adena turned toward her, visibly caught off guard by the interruption. "I didn’t ask you."

"No, but you were about to argue with someone who’s right, and I figured I’d save us all the extra ten minutes."

There was a beat of silence. Eleanore, to her credit, managed not to laugh outright, though the corner of her mouth twitched dangerously.

"Who do you think is Lady Daphne to interrupt in our house affairs?" Adena asked, somewhere between offended and genuinely curious.

"This isn’t exactly your household." She extended a hand with easy confidence. "And, apparently, someone with better color instincts than you, based on the last thirty seconds."

Adena stared at the offered hand for a long moment before, somewhat begrudgingly, shaking it. "Fine. Sage. But I’m still annoyed about it."

"You’ll survive."

"I’m noting this for later," Adena muttered, gathering her swatches back into her arms and stalking off down the hall with considerably less momentum than she’d arrived with, already onto the next crisis before this one had fully finished.

Once she was safely out of earshot, Daphne turned back to Eleanore, eyebrows raised. "Is she always like that?"

"Every day. Multiple times a day." Eleanore exhaled, some of the tension from the exchange visibly draining out of her shoulders. "Thank you for that, by the way. I didn’t have the energy for round four of the napkin argument."

"Happy to help. I’ve dealt with worse than color palette tantrums." Daphne studied her for a moment, something warmer settling into her expression now, the earlier wariness quietly tucked away for the time being. "You know, I think I like you a lot better without an audience of tabloids and business associates hovering around."

"I think I like myself a lot better that way too," Eleanore admitted, a small, tired laugh escaping her.

They fell into step together, walking further down the hall, and for the first time in longer than Daphne could quite remember, the usual quiet unease she carried into this mansion had eased into something else entirely, something that, against all her earlier instincts, felt a great deal like the start of an actual friendship.