The next morning, Daphne woke to the familiar sight of an empty bed. Her heart ached with a subtle, lingering anger from yesterday's confrontation.
She looked over at the nightstand, where a fresh bouquet of flowers sat, a constant gesture from him. But his flowers didn't quell the hurt of his refusal.
She had to go.
She would not allow him to stop her from visiting.
She heard a gentle knock on the chamber door, and Alice entered with the other maids. "Good morning, madam," Alice said, her expression still warm.
Daphne looked up, her expression hard. She didn't bother with a formal greeting. "Alice," she said, her voice a low, determined murmur. "I am going to my parents' house. Please help me prepare."
Alice froze, her hand still resting on the doorknob. Her warm expression gave way to a look of conflict. "Madam," she began, her voice hesitant, "the General—"
