"The Earl doesn't like you," Honoria finally spoke twenty minutes after she had shown up at Daphne's doorstep, looking so sullen and angry that Daphne could practically see the thundering storm cloud above her head.

"No," Daphne conceded, "he does not."

"Why?"

Now that was a loaded question. Daphne herself never could understand just why was it that Cassius Pembroke had started keeping her at arm's length. When she had just been a young woman thoroughly infatuated with him, she knew that he had been attracted to her. She knew that he had wanted her.

And yet he had spurned her in favor of a woman who not only was Daphne's opposite in every way, she was also someone who Daphne had always had a tumultuous relationship with.

Afterwards though.....She knew what he thought of her and Alexei, and she let him think so to protect William's reputation. After all, what did it matter now what he thought of her? She had cared, once upon a time. But then, she had been a girl whose sun had set and risen on Cassius Godwin.

And then he had broken her heart beyond all recognition.

And yet the blasted organ beat for him and him alone.

"So you've gotten yourself expelled?" Daphne asked instead, deftly moving the conversation away from the touchy subject. The moody young lady sitting across from her gave her a petulant look over her cup of tea.

"Suspended," the child snapped back, huffing in irritation. "Though I wish they'd expelled me. I wouldn't care one bit! I hate that school! It could burn down for all I care!"

That gave Daphne a start. She did not know Honoria to be a mean-spirited child; after spending nearly a month as her sole guardian, Daphne was certain her estimation of Honoria's personality was not inaccurate.

"Oh? And here I thought you were rather fond of your English teacher?"

"Well...." She replied contemplatively. "I suppose Miss Heartwood is nice. She is younger than the rest of them and much nicer than Mrs. Pinehurst."

"And you wouldn't want you to put her out of a job, now would you?"

"No," Honoria conceded with a sullen look. "She supports herself and her niece with her income."

"Care to tell me what actually has you upset, Honey Bee?"

"No."

"Suit yourself," Daphne gave a nonchalant shrug as if she weren't burning with curiosity. The absolute surefire way to ensure that a child would not speak with you was to pry too deeply. Honoria would tell her what was bothering her in due time. "We can just enjoy the nice, sunny day, in my lovely garden. I've hired a new gardener, can you tell?"

A disinterested shrug. Honoria took her fork and began to dissect her slice of cake with a fork. Well! That was rude. Her hedges had been shaped to perfection and the roses and gardenias were in full bloom! She'd had a new statue of a water maiden installed on her fountain, a jet of water pouring from her pail into the pool below.

"Have I told you about the ship I took here from Italy? The rooms were so lovely. I tell you, my suite on board was bigger than my own bedroom here! And their mattress had to be the softest thing I had ever laid upon."

"That sounds wonderful," came the unfeeling response and so Daphne let the two of them lapse into silence. Honoria wanted to tell her, she could feel it in the way she kept twitching in her seat. Daphne need only stay patient.

With her blonde hair and adorable brown eyes, the girl was practically the spitting image of her father. Daphne was helpless to do anything but adore her with her whole heart, in spite of the fact that she and Jemma had never gotten along.

"He's just so annoying!" She finally snarled, stabbing her cake with the fork now. "Why couldn't he just stay in Belgium?"

And there it was. Easy as pie.

"Your father?" Daphne hazarded a guess.

"The Earl," Honoria corrected frostily.

Oh dear me. Now that seemed to be a can of worms Daphne was unsure she wished to open.

"Well, now that he has inherited the title, he would be expected to be in England more often," she said in a placating tone. "And now it is just the two of you, of course, he would want you to be together."

"He sent me back to Mrs. Pinehurst's so that is a lie," Honoria hissed, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. "Everyone keeps telling me that he cares, but he doesn't. He only cares that I made a fool of him by behaving badly."

"Oh, Honoria, that isn't true. Things between your parents were complicated, but your father does love you."

"No, he doesn't!" She flung the fork away and got to her feet. "You don't understand! He doesn't even know me! He doesn't even think about me! I bet he's just waiting for my suspension to be lifted so that he can send me back to school, and finally be free of the burden!"

The need to defend Cassius rose up in her, hard and fast. She always felt so protective of him, and always to her own detriment.

"Honoria, you are being so harsh. Why don't you give him a chance? Spend some time with him?"

"No. I hate him. I hate him! I wish that it was he who had-"

"That is enough, young lady!" Now Daphne rose to her feet in fury. She knew she had no place to scold the girl, but just the thought of Cassius overhearing something like this broke her heart. Oh, how it would hurt him. And his hurt was her own hurt, whether she liked it or not. "It is not like you to be so mean-spirited, and say such unconscionable things!"

"Do not raise your voice at my daughter!" Cassius' command fell over the garden like the lash of a whip. Daphne's gaze collided with his sullen, hurt one, and the breath left her lung immediately.

He looked so defeated.

"Honoria, go back to the house. Wait for me in my study. We will speak shortly."

"I don't want to," she squared her shoulders and glared at him. "I have been confined to my room for a week!"

"Yes," Cassius hissed, "that is rather the point of a punishment!"

"I hate you!"

"Ah yes, you have not reminded me since breakfast, thank you," Cassius deadpanned. "Back. To. The. House. Now."

Honoria looked to her for support but Daphne just shook her head.

"Go, Honey Bee," she nodded her head to the door. Honoria gave her a look of betrayal and then stormed out of the room.

"You." The word carried the weight of Cassius' anger and frustration. "Don't call her that."

"Yes. Me," she replied coolly. It was one thing to privately feel yearning for the man in front of her, and another to lay herself at his mercy yet again.

Cassius had never in his life experienced hate so blinding as he did in that moment for Lady Daphne Winslow. He hated that it was she who Honoria had willingly sought out after repeatedly rejecting his attempts at spending time with her. She refused to make conversation with him over any meals, she refused to join him for tea, she refused any gift that he got her, she just refused to have anything to with him.

When he had arrived home to find that Honoria had used her window to sneak out, he had been both scared half to death and livid at the same time. It was sheer luck that his gardener had spotted her go over to Lady Whittaker's house while he had been working in the yard.

He hated Daphne for being the person his own daughter preferred. Hated that it was her that Honoria had sought sanctuary with. He hated Daphne for being the one that Honoria wished to tell her thoughts, no matter that those thoughts threatened to tear his heart to ribbons.

"Don't call her that," he said again, fully aware of his petulance. He hated Daphne for giving her an intimate nickname that she accepted, when she had told him not to call her things like "poppet, or dear one".

Cassius hated her for being so beautiful that she scrambled his brains. Hated the way the sunlight played across her face and hair, making her appear to be some kind of nymph. Hated the way his body ached to hold her. Hated the way she made him weak.

Like his father.

"I will call her what I please. I am not the one you are angry with. Don't take it out on me."

Cassius hated her for being right.

"Do not presume that you may teach my daughter her manners or that you have any right to scold her," he snarled.

"I am her aunt." 

"Her mother's cousin who barely saw her once a year."

"Honoria is in a sensitive place right now," she continued. "She is merely throwing a tantrum and being angry because she is hurt. She needs your acceptance, not your scolding. But that does not mean that she ought to be given free rein to say whatever awful thing comes to her mind."

Cassius hated that placating, soothing tone she was employing with him. He hated that she was yet another person in a long line of people who doubted and undermined his ability as a father.

"Well," the sneering words were rolling off his tongue before he could stop them. And once they were off, he was too proud, too hurt to take them back. "Seeing as how you are not a parent yourself, I hardly need you lecturing me."

Later.

Later he would feel guilty about taking such a low blow. Later he would contemplate over and over the way her face turned pale, and her eyes had crumpled with hurt.

Right now he was just a caged animal, swiping at whoever came near, no matter their intentions.

"Better to not be a parent at all than to be one that was absent their child's entire life," she spat at him and he almost reared back as the blow hit exactly where she had intended.

Tit for tat.

Hurt for hurt.

Lethal words for lethal words.

"Go to hell and stay the devil away from my daughter," he snarled and marched back home, telling himself that he did not care that he had been awful. That he did not care what she felt or if she had been hurt. That he did not care if she thought him a bad parent.

But that voice in his head he never could quash, the one that whispered doubt and regret his entire marriage, laughed and laughed and laughed, and his heart turned and twisted in chest chest; calling him for the liar that he was.