Lady Whittaker Wages War

Prologue

In the gothic books that Daphne read on occasion, funerals were meant to take place on desolate feeling days where the clouds covered the sun and the thunder rattled the doors of the house.

The day Daphne buried her husband, the sun shone brightly in the sky and birds landed on her windowsill to chirp a merry little song. And though her heart was heavy with grief, Daphne was unable to divert attention to her own mourning because Prince Alexei Aleksandrovich Menshikov, cousin (some dozen or so times removed) to the Tsar of Russia, was currently weeping into her gown.

"Alexei, you must get a hold of yourself. He wouldn't want to see you like this," she chided him gently, which only made him weep harder. Praying to God to grant her patience, Daphne was forced to pause and take inventory of the many decisions in her life that had led her to this very moment where she found herself comforting her husband's lover after his funeral.

That couldn't possibly be a real thing that happened to people, could it?

And all roads led to one answer: Cassius Godwin. No matter how she looked at it, if it hadn't been for him, she would likely have never ended up here. How foolish was it that she had taken so many decisions in her life as a reaction to him? Perhaps if she had not loved him, perhaps if she had not lost her heart to him entirely, then perhaps....... But what was the point of pondering these what ifs?

If it hadn't been for Cassius Godwin, she'd be dead.

She shook her head. So what if she loved him still? He had made his choice and married Jemma, in reaction to which she made hers and married William. And that, she could not regret, for Will had been a perfect husband. He had been a true friend, he had stood by her when David had thrown another fit of rage when she had defied him, he had taken her all over the world, indulged her love for traveling, had never chided or balked at her shopping bills. He always made sure that he was home in time for dinner, he made an effort to spend time with her.

There had just been the teeniest, tiniest problem that he felt no physical attraction to her whatsoever.

And that he was in love with another man.

"Ah, forgive me, malyshka. You are grieving too," Alexei sniffled into the handkerchief she'd shoved in his direction. He wiped at his tears and gave her hand an adoring, brotherly pat. "I just cannot imagine life without him. I cannot believe he left me the house in Paris. How am I....how am I meant to live there, when everything would serve as a reminder of him? I could not bear it."

And for good reason, William and Alexei had been together for more than fifteen years. They'd met when William had first moved to Paris and Alexei had returned to France to study architecture. As a noble, Alexei was not particularly encouraged to pursue any sort of trade, but he was rather talented and sometimes made designs for friends and family- which was how they made each other's acquaintance. Their house in Paris was of Alexei's design, in fact, and the way every detail in it had been crafted to suit William was a testament of the love the pair shared.

She hazarded a look at the man, who was shrugging his coat on with solemn movements and felt a pang of both sorrow and affection. 

Her relationship with Alexei was...complicated and convoluted in equal measure. They'd had a civil, yet aloof acquaintance for many years, Daphne looking the other way to what happened in her husband's private life while Alexei was "visiting relatives in England". They greeted each other politely enough if they were to meet in public, but in private they were both content to pretend the other did not exist.

Then, there had been the ill-advised attempt between her and William to get her with child- and then it had become entirely impossible for the two of them to pretend indifference. Alexei had not liked that one bit, and quite frankly every time had been a miserable experience for everyone involved.

After the war was over, she and William spent most of the year in France instead. While they were in Paris, Alexei had his own lodgings very close by and William spent most of his days there, returning most nights for dinner and to sleep.

And then William had fallen ill and she and Alexei had become each other's support system. Seeing vibrant, charming William, who had become her dearest friend, waste away day by day had undone Daphne in ways only Alexei could understand. He had moved to England to be with William in his final months, and to support Daphne in his care. They had held and helped each other through the most awful, difficult days, emerging through it with such a soul deep understanding of one another that they were bonded as closely as two individuals could be.

"I will take my leave, malyshka," he bent down and pressed a kiss to her head. "It is time for me to leave for Paris, perhaps go on to Belgium for a while. My mother wishes for me to return to Russia, and I see no reason not to."

She gripped his arms, murmuring a protest. Alexei would leave her too? So soon after William?

"Ah, my dearest one, do not fret," he pulled her into his embrace again. "Be well. And heed the letter he wrote you. You will never be without options again, he has made it so the next time you marry, you only marry for love."

That much was true, Daphne now had more wealth than she could possibly spend in a lifetime. But what use were options when the man she truly loved would never be hers? 

She watched Alexei depart and then idly, she crossed into her study and pulled out the document that declared her share of William's vast holdings, as if still unable to believe it.

In addition to the fortune he had left her, there were three properties scattered across England, a villa in Florence, an estate in northern France, a house in New York....and the house in London.

Right across the street from the Earl of Pembroke's abode in London. Where his son, Lord Cassius Godwin's wife resided year round. Who was also, incidentally, Daphne's most hated cousin.

Well, she could always sell it.  

But she wouldn't.

Perhaps one day she would stop torturing herself where that man was concerned, but it appeared that day remained elusive still.