The other girl leaned confidently from her own saddle. “You must relax, Daisy. Your tension makes the horse nervous.”
“I’m several feet up in the air on an erratic beast. How could I not be nervous?”
Her mother reached out a hand. “Remember, dear, none of that when His Grace arrives. He likes the country. He’ll want a wife who can ride.”
He arched his brows. Did he prefer a wife who rode? He couldn’t say that he’d given it much thought.
Daisy made a face at her mother as the other woman turned. It was somewhere between a grimace and a hex, her nose wrinkling, her lips puffing out. But she remained silent.
Griff cocked his head to one side as Merrick’s words came back to him. Mary could wait. Daisy might have a few interesting points to educate him on after all.
As he drew closer to the group, Daisy noticed him first. He saw her frown before she carefully hid the look behind a polite smile. “Your Grace,” she murmured, dipping her head. When she did, her horse skittered again and she fought to maintain balance on the back of the beast.
“Miss Daisy,” he replied, studying her. By all accounts, she was either an excellent actress or truly uncomfortable on the back of her horse.
“May I introduce my dear friend, Miss Mary Gladwell.”
He inclined his head toward the other woman, noting she was attractive in the sweetest way possible. Merrick had delivered. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
And yet… He turned back to Daisy.
“Your Grace,” Lady Turley turned her horse about, trotting toward him when she finally spotted him. “Thank you for coming. And I must thank you again for offering Daisy assistance.” Lady Turley looked at her daughter with a creased brow. “She tries very hard.”
He didn’t respond as Daisy looked to the sky, a soft sigh falling from her lips. The party began to move, making their way toward a wide road that cut a path through the forest that flanked the estate. He breathed in a deep breath of air, enjoying the crisp morning air. Time in the woods would surely help with his glowering. He shook his head, only Merrick could get away with such words.
As the trail narrowed, the group thinned out, beginning to move in groups of two or three. He found himself directly behind Mary and Daisy. Neither talked much. He had no idea why Mary was so quiet but Daisy looked as though she were barely staying atop her steed. They moved at a slow pace and the rest of the group moved further and further ahead.
They approached a fork in the trail, the party veering to the left. The group would set up a camp of sorts, many of the women lounging there to watch the hunting party from a safe distance. From out of the woods, a tiny animal skittered across the road. The two dark stripes along his back told Griff the little brown critter was a chipmunk. He thought nothing of it. While a horse might feel skittish to encounter such a small animal, most any rider could calm a beast at the slow pace they were riding.
But apparently, Daisy was not one of those riders. The chipmunk crossed directly in front of her animal, causing the mare to snort and sidestep, dancing away. Daisy clutched at the reins as she called out. “Marigold,” fear tightened her voice, as her friend made a lunge for Daisy.
That only scared the animal more and it shot forward to avoid Mary’s lunging hand. The mare broke into a run, Daisy clutching wildly at the reins as she teetered on top of the saddle. A fall off a galloping horse could break a person’s neck.
Griff snapped his reins, breaking into a fast gallop after her. As he passed Mary, he called. “Get her father. I’ll stop her horse.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Mary or Marigold or whatever the girl's name was, started down the other fork as he followed Daisy, spurring his horse faster.
Daisy’s animal only seemed to pick up speed as the trail became increasingly narrow and wooded. Several branches smacked Daisy in the face. His own heart pounded. A larger limb would take her clear off the animal’s back.
He reached the rump of her horse, but the trail was now single file and he didn’t think he’d be able to pull alongside. With a growl of frustration, he yelled, “Pull up on the reins.”
Daisy looked back at him, her eyes wild with fear as she finally did as he commanded, giving them a hard pull up and back.
Her horse came to an abrupt halt and he watched her lurch forward, his own breath stopping. Would she go over the horse’s head? But she slammed into the animal’s neck, rather than fly over the top. He saw her careen back, and he didn’t waste a second, plucking her from the horse and onto his own.
Which was likely a mistake. Not that he wasn’t happy to save her, but her arms instinctively circled his neck, her body pressed to his so that he could feel the rapid thrumming of her heart. Her chin tilted up, her eyes wild and her lips parted.
Kiss her.
Where had that thought come from? He swallowed, holding her tiny waist, his fingers nearly able to encircle all the way around. His own breath was shallow, but he blamed the exertion of the chase, the fright of her nearly falling or being thrown.
“You could have been killed,” he grated out, pressing her closer as though that might prevent her from being hurt.
Her eyes widened for a moment. “I…” Her lip trembled and she looked as though she might cry. A bit of water glistened against her lashes. “I tried to warn everyone. I’m not particularly good on a horse.”
He narrowed his gaze. No, she wasn’t. There had been nothing staged about the wild ride, he’d just witnessed. And he had to confess—that, at least, had not been an act. “So why are you on this hunt?”
She shook her head, her eyes blinking back tears. “Isn’t it obvious? My mother made me.”
“Made you?” he asked though he was sure he understood. Lady Turley was not the first marriage-minded mama he’d encountered. “I see.”
She drew in a tremulous breath. “I much prefer the forest with my feet safely on the ground. I’ll happily walk back to the party if you’ll set me down.”
He shook his head, kicking his horse into a slow walk as he continued down the path. Her horse had cantered off another twenty-five or thirty feet. Grabbing the dangling reins, he tied them off to his saddle. “You can’t walk. That’s the thing about horses. When running like that, they carry you a great distance.”
She sniffed, her eyes drying and her back straightening. “Thank you for that informative explanation, Your Grace. But I can assure you that walking is a pastime of mine, as I’m not that fond of horses. I’m more than capable of walking several miles.
He raised his eyebrows as he looked down at Daisy. Her jaw was tight with irritation as she stared back.
“Several miles? Do you walk often?”
She shrugged. “Nearly every day when we’re not in London.” Then her gaze cast to the ground. “I find it clears my head.”
Exercise outdoors cleared his, too. Rather than think she was putting on another charade to trap him, he found that he believed her. “Can I ask you something?” He’d clearly gone mad. But the words itched on the end of the tongue.
Daisy blinked, her brow drawing together in confusion. “You are a duke.”
Her consent made him smile. She wasn’t attempting to impress him today. In fact, she seemed rather eager to be free of his company. They had to have gone three miles. Walking indeed. “Do you find that I glower a great deal?”
Chapter Five
Daisy stared at the duke. Was he serious?
It was impossible to say.
It was also impossible to think. Or move. Or breathe. Not without being acutely reminded of how close he was.
She was still in his arms, her body flush against his.
This wasn’t just improper, it was...indecent.
“I really would much prefer to walk.” It came out sounding far too breathy and not nearly as firm as she would have liked, but to her satisfaction, he studied her with narrowed eyes and then gave a short nod. “Very well,” he said, slowing the horse to a stop. “Then we shall both walk.�
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“Oh but—” He was already helping her down before she could finish that protest, sliding off the horse himself just a moment later.
He did it with such ease and grace, she couldn’t hold back her sigh.
“Is something wrong?” he asked as he snagged the reins to his horse so he could keep pace beside her.
“No, just…” She shrugged. “It hardly seems fair that some people get all the grace and athleticism in this world when others are so sorely lacking.”
His lips curved up into a slash of a smile that stole her breath with its suddenness and its charm. “Are you implying that you are one of those who is sorely lacking?”
She pursed her lips together like she’d just sucked on a lemon and did her best impersonation of her mother. “She tries very hard.”
His laughter startled her. It was an unfamiliar sound and it was...nice. Warm and low and just as rumbly as his speaking voice. “You sounded just like her.”
She shot him a little grin. “Where I lack in grace, I make up for in impressions.”
“I should love to see your take on me someday,” he said.
“Would you?” She arched one brow as she turned to face him. “I wonder…” She gave him a smile to soften the teasing and was rewarded with another low chuckle.
They walked several paces in silence before he broke it. “You never did answer my question, you know.”
“Which question would that be?” she asked, though she was certain she knew.
His knowing smirk said he knew that she knew, but he still spelled it out for her. “Do you find that I glower an excessive amount?”
“An excessive amount? Well...” She drew in a deep breath and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity of this conversation. She debated how to answer, before finally settling for the truth. “Yes, Your Grace. I’d imagine your face is naturally thus—” She waved a hand toward the visage, which was even now furrowed in a brooding scowl. “Even in your sleep.”
She snapped her head back around to face forward and hoped he did not catch the blush that stole into her cheeks. Had she really just referred to him sleeping?
Had she truly just imagined him in his bed...alone?
How very intimate.
Her mother would never approve. And now the image of a sleeping duke was burned into her mind’s eye.
Oh dear.
Perhaps she ought to have accepted the ride back to the hunt. This morning sun was entirely too hot for such a long walk.
Fortunately the duke did not seem aware of her discomfort. He merely mumbled something about Merrick being right and then silence descended again.
Truthfully, Daisy had no problem with silence. Unlike her friend Lily, who could not abide lengthy pauses in conversation, Daisy found them preferable to chatter for two reasons.
One, small talk was typically more boring than her thoughts. And two, she was far less likely to stick her foot in her mouth when it was shut.
“I shall speak with your father.” He said it so abruptly, so firmly, that she stumbled in her walk.
Sweet heavens, now she could not even walk properly in his presence.
“I beg your pardon?”
She looked over and—oh my. He was definitely glowering now. Clearly his thoughts during this silence had not been nearly as amiable as hers had been. She’d been thinking about what wildflowers to pick to decorate her room and he…
He looked as though he’d been planning for war.
“You should not be allowed to ride like you did today.”
She blinked. “Pardon?”
He turned to fix her with a glare. “Riding alone like that when you are so ill-suited to it. You put yourself and everyone around you in danger.”
Her head jerked back as though she’d been smacked. “I did not mean—that is, I had no idea—”
He stopped and turned, gripping her arms and tugging her close. “If something had happened to you today…” He shook his head, and that was when she caught it.
Fear.
Worry.
Concern.
His brows drew down lower. “If you had been injured because your mother had some silly notion about what I was looking for in a bride, I—” He shook his head again before letting her go abruptly. He let out a sharp exhale. “I shall speak to your father.”
Oh.
Relief flooded her as she realized it was not her that he was angry with, but her parents. And he was angry on her behalf. Because he’d been scared for her safety.
The thought brought with it a wave of warmth that made her chest ache and her heart pound.
She wasn’t certain anyone had ever been angry on her behalf before.
She knew for a fact no one had threatened to chasten her parents on her behalf before.
The fact that he planned to was oddly...endearing.
And yet, the dutiful daughter in her found herself coming to their defense. “They only want what’s best for me. They just don’t always go about it in the right way.”
He gave a grunt, which she could not decipher and they continued down the path once more.
“I suppose by ‘wanting the best’ you mean they want you to make a good match,” he said.
She tipped her chin down in acknowledgement. It was the truth, but hardly a conversation she wished to have right here and now. Certainly not with this man—her parents’ walking definition of a “good match.”
“And you?” he asked suddenly.
“What about me?”
“What is it that you wish for?”
The question was startling. No one ever asked her that. She did not have to think long, however, as the answer was obvious. “I suppose I want a good match as well. But the problem is, my idea of a good match and my parents' idea are two different things.”
“What are you looking for in a match?” he asked.
She hesitated. He would laugh. She knew he would. “Love.”
He stopped walking. He didn’t laugh. No, he did something worse. He scoffed. She hadn’t known a single huff of air could contain so much condescension and derision.
It was almost impressive, actually.
She frowned. “You don’t believe in a love match?”
“No,” he said simply.
“I know they are rare, but they do happen,” she said defensively.
“Oh, I know they do,” he said. “I made one.”
“A love match?” It took her a moment to understand. “Your wife.”
“Mmm.”
She glanced up at him, his profile grim as ever and entirely unreadable. “Then if you’ve experienced love yourself—”
“That is precisely why I won’t make the same mistake twice.” He glanced down at her. “Take my word for it, Miss Merriweather, a love match only leads to pain.”
The air rushed out of her lungs as a stab of grief on his behalf had her reaching for him. He glanced down at her hand on his arm as though it was a mystery he could not solve.
“Oh, of course,” she said. “How thoughtless of me. You must be in a great deal of pain after losing the woman you love.”
His brows hitched up in surprise. “You misunderstand me. The mistake I made was in believing in love in the first place. It may exist but it’s a fleeting, whimsical, unreliable emotion, not a solid foundation for a partnership.”
Her heart sank to her stomach with his cynical words. “A partnership,” she repeated dully.
“Yes, that’s what a good marriage is.” He didn’t seem to notice her disappointment as he set the brisk pace toward the others. “Marriage is a partnership. An understanding.”
“Ah,” she said, for lack of anything better to say. “How...romantic.”
He cut her a sidelong look at her sarcasm. “Perhaps you would not understand since you have never been in love.”
Her brows drew down. There was that condescending tone again. She wanted nothing so much as to wipe that knowing smirk of his face. “Oh but I
was in love...”
He arched his brows.
Her heart thudded painfully. Was she really going to admit this? “With you.”
It seemed she was.
He stopped walking altogether and his look of shock was better than she could have hoped. She burst out in a laugh at the sight of it. “I should add, I believed I was in love…” She waved a dismissive hand. “Of course, I was only a child. I did not know any better.”
His shoulders sank with visible relief and after a moment he seemed to recover in full. “So, when we were children you…” He pointed a finger at himself.
She gave a short nod. “That is correct.”
His sudden smile stole the air from her lungs again. She pressed a hand to her belly. He really ought to give some sort of warning before he smiled like that. He could make a lady swoon.
They walked in silence for a moment, each seemingly lost in thought before he said, “Miss Merriweather, when we first met last night...in the garden…”
He glanced over at her, his expression pained, and she arched her brows. Could she make this easy on him? Yes. Would she?
Likely not.
“Yes, Your Grace?”
He stopped walking with a huff. “I was unforgivably rude.”
He looked over at her at her silence.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
He glowered and for some reason that had her fighting the urge to laugh again. His eyes narrowed on her as her lips twitched with the urge to give in to a nervous giggle.
But really, it was not every day that an exceedingly handsome duke tried to apologize to her. At least...she assumed that was what he was attempting to do just now.
Sure enough, his brows came down in a fierce glare and he turned to face her. “Miss Merriweather...I apologize for my behavior.”
She smiled. She never had been one to hold on to a grudge, and there was no doubt that he meant it. “You are forgiven. It was clear you did not recognize me and—”
“You reminded me of my wife.”
His interruption had her pausing with her lips still parted. “Oh.”
He cleared his throat and they resumed their walk. While Daisy truly did not mind walking in silence, this particular silence was...unpleasant. It felt thick with tension and a heaviness she could not quite explain. After a few minutes she could not bear it any longer. “Your wife…” she said suddenly.
A Wallflower's Wish Boxed Set: Three Regency Romances Page 4
