“Thank you, Frederick!” Her heart sped up and she bounded back down the steps in a way that would have made her mother of old cringe. Following his visit yesterday when he’d spoken to her of making a match with another—a man who was not him—she’d been besieged by alternating feelings of outrage, hurt, and annoyance. She reached the end of the corridor and slowed to a quick, jerky halt. Daisy smoothed her hands over her cheeks and then ran her palms down the front of her skirts, composing herself. Through the years, she’d believed his frequent visits a mere obligatory social call paid her mother, and yet, with the marchioness so often indisposed, why, why would Auric return day after day if not some small part didn’t long to see her? Daisy turned down the hall. Why, unless… She stepped into the room.
Her gaze locked on Auric, standing at the hearth, arms clasped behind his back. And then she became aware of another gentleman, seated on the King Louis XIV chair looking about as put out with Auric as Daisy herself. The tall, lean, dark-haired gentleman, the Earl of Astor. She’d not met the man beyond an introduction and two or three sets in total at a variety functions. It was certainly not enough to merit an unexpected afternoon call. Unless— Her mind spun rapidly. Then the truth settled around her brain and Daisy slowly narrowed her eyes. By God, she would bloody Auric’s nose for this, she would. And if he were lucky, that was all she would do.
Lord Astor tugged out his watch fob, happening to glance up at her silent figure in the doorway. He sprang to his feet. “My lady,” he greeted, in a not at all displeasing baritone.
Auric stiffened and then turned around slowly, coolly unaffected as he so often was. Tamping down her annoyance, she shifted her attention from him to the smiling Lord Astor. “My lord,” she greeted. She dipped a curtsy and then entered further into the room. Her maid, Agnes, bustled in behind her and set up sentry in her usual seat at the blue arm chair in the far right corner of the room. Forcefully thrusting aside the urge to throttle Auric, Daisy drew on years of good breeding and motioned to his chair. “Would you care to sit?” The young earl with his chiseled features and hard, square jaw hesitated a moment and then reclaimed his seat. She claimed the nearest chair opposite him.
The dunderhead in the corner crossed over in three formidable strides. With a glower, Auric sat on the blue sofa, making the elegant piece of furniture appear hopelessly delicate with his broad, powerful frame.
Daisy folded her hands primly on her lap. “Would you care for refreshments?”
“No,” Auric snapped.
She arched an eyebrow and then looked pointedly at the earl.
He grinned. “No, refreshments, thank you, my lady.”
The gentleman had manners, which was a good deal more than she could say for certain boorish dukes who took it upon themselves to go and select men she might take for her husband. Fury stirred in her belly once again. She forced her features into a pleasant, unruffled mask.
An awkward pall of silence descended over the room, made all the more glaring for the incessant tick-tocking of the loud clock.
Pleasant discourse. Pleasant discourse. She ran through years of proper lessons on deportment. Weather. She discarded that inane, dull topic cared about by none. After all, maybe one needed only to direct their stare to the window to ascertain as much.
The earl’s gaze skittered about the room.
“Lady Daisy quite enjoys music,” Auric supplied, unhelpfully.
She pressed her lips into a tight line to keep from telling him what she thought of his pronouncement. Would he have her show her teeth next?
“Indeed?” Lord Astor inquired, his expression fairly pained, and she appreciated the honesty of that reaction.
“She does.” Is that what Auric thought he knew of her after a lifetime of friendship? She’d kick him in the shins if there weren’t an additional guest present.
Daisy shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
Both men startled at her contradiction. She grinned. “I enjoy dancing to music.” She wrinkled her brow. “I detest the pianoforte, as I’m quite deplorable at it.”
Lord Astor made a gentlemanly sound of protest.
She gave a flick of a hand. “Oh, you needn’t defend on my account.” Daisy lowered her voice to a none-too-quiet whisper. “I’m really quite horrid. My mother despaired of my nonexistent skills through the years.”
The first real grin turned the gentleman’s hard lips upward and some of the stiffness in his shoulders eased. He placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward, shrinking the space between them. “Your secret is safe with me,” he whispered back.
Auric coughed quite noisily.
Daisy looked away from the earl. “Are you unwell?”
He gave his head a jerky shake. “Fine,” he grit out between clenched lips.
“I daresay a woman of your grace is not deplorable at anything,” Lord Astor said in somber tones. All the right words that should rouse a sense of romance in her breast, and yet… She preferred his earlier honest reaction to any feigned response. “Quite the opposite,” he said confidently.
“Th—”
“Astor was just taking his leave,” Auric snapped, rising suddenly.
The man angled his head. “I was?” The black glower fixed on him by the powerful duke brought him swiftly to his feet. “Er, right, uh yes.” He bent low at the waist. “My lady, if I may be so bold as to request the opportunity to call on you in the future?”
She inclined her head and gave him a smile. “Of course,” she said, as she stood.
He opened his mouth to say something more, but Auric glared him into silence. With that, Lord Astor spun on his heel and made a hasty retreat.
What was that about? “Why did you run off Lord Astor?” The gentleman he’d brought ’round? Daisy took a step toward Auric and jabbed a finger in his direction before he could speak. “And firstly, why was Lord Astor here? With you?”
A mottled flush stained his rugged cheeks. “Astor is a perfectly agreeable gentleman.”
Not that she’d had time to notice in the earl’s brief, very brief, visit. “So friendly you ran him off?” Her words instantly silenced him. That was an impressive feat considering no one servant, peer, or Prinny himself could silence the powerful, austere Duke of Crawford. “Why was he here?” she repeated, her tone firm, even as she knew the answer.
“Courting you.”
Courting her? “Courting me?” she blurted. Then a sharp bark of laughter escaped her. Daisy gave a sad shake of her head. “That was most certainly not a gentleman courting me.” Of his own volition, anyway. She widened her eyes. He wouldn’t. He had. She groaned and covered her eyes.
“What is it?” Auric bristled.
“You forced him here.”
He hesitated. “I hardly forced him.”
And she hardly believed him. Daisy closed her eyes, not knowing whether to laugh or cry at the idea of the man she loved going to such lengths to arrange a match between her and another gentleman. She opened her eyes. “Agnes, will you see to refreshments?” she asked, not taking her gaze from him.
Agnes hopped up and hurried to the door.
“I do not require refreshments.”
The maid froze with one foot over the threshold. She looked expectantly at her mistress.
He’d come into her home and play matchmaker? “I believe you do,” Daisy bit out. For she’d known him the whole of her life to know he’d not care to have his ears blistered before her maid.
Agnes completed her step.
Auric furrowed his brow in consternation. “I assure you, I do not.” He turned to her maid.
By God, if he gave directives to her maid, she’d have him tossed on his pompous, ducal arse before the whole of London Society. “Agnes, refreshments.” Auric might be an all-powerful duke who could command a room with his stare alone, but she would not be cowed by him. Nor would her maid.
The relieved young woman all but sprinted from the room.
Silence filled the parlor. Auric br
oke it. “Did you not care for Lord Astor?” He spoke as though selecting a potential bridegroom in the same way as choosing a chocolate biscuit over a sweet, fig pudding for dessert.
Daisy counted to five for patience. “I don’t know, Auric,” she said in calm, quiet tones. “Beyond his opinion about me not being horrid and a possible suggestion of my being graceful, he said all of two statements.” Excluding his greeting and hasty goodbye.
Auric gave a curt nod of agreement. “I quite agree. He’d make you a deplorable husband.”
Despite outrage over his highhandedness, Daisy’s lips twitched and the blistering words on her lips died. He’d determined all of that with but a handful of exchanges? Even as a boy he’d possessed the same arrogance. Then, when one was born heir to one of the oldest, most respected dukedoms, such bumptiousness was inevitable.
He took a step toward her, and then another, and another, until only a hairsbreadth separated them. Heat spilled off his muscle-hewn frame and her pulse quickened at his body’s nearness. Struggling to rein in the warring annoyance and almost pained amusement thrumming through her, she tipped her head back and held his stare.
A tight curl slipped from her chignon and almost in a reflexive movement, Auric captured the strand between his thumb and forefinger. He studied the dark tress as though he’d never before seen a single lock of hair before this one. “What else do you require in a husband, Daisy?” His voice, a deep, husky whisper washed over her and her brain had to remind her lungs to draw in air and release it once more. “Tell me and I’ll find him for you.”
She’d already found him. Only he was too blind to see her. She wetted her lips and his gaze dipped lower, following that subtle movement. “Confidence,” she managed to force the single word out.
His thick lashes swept down.
“I’d want him to be resolute.” So that a mere glower from another man, even if that other man happened to be a duke, didn’t send him fleeing with wan cheeks. Auric the boy and now Auric the man was fearless and bold in all matters.
He released her strand of hair, as though burned and then took a step away. Then another. “Resolute,” he repeated, as though to himself.
“In all matters.” Of the heart, in his beliefs, in his hopes and dreams. Just as Auric would be.
With another bow, he turned on his heel and wordlessly took his leave.
Her shoulders sank and she wandered over to the window. She peeled back the curtain and stared down into the street. The front door opened and Auric stepped outside. He paused on the top step and surveyed the street. Then, as though feeling her gaze upon him, he looked up. With a gasp, she released the curtain and let it fall back into place.
“Daisy?”
She spun around, slapping a hand to her breast. “Mother.” Whatever was her mother doing from her chambers? She so very rarely took herself from her rooms.
“He’s left, Mother,” she informed the lady. Or rather, he’d run off. The coward.
A wistful expression stole over her face. “I believe he’s courting you,” she whispered, the faintest hint of joy underscoring those words. Odd, how any and every other Society mama would be fixed upon that link to the Duke of Crawford for his title, and yet her own mother craved that connection for altogether very different reasons. Reasons that were not at all material.
Daisy loathed robbing her sad parent of the one hint of something that brought her a remote bit of happiness. “He’s not courting me, Mama,” she said gently. She could not, however, allow her to hang upon false hope.
Mother walked over in a flurry of black, bombazine skirts. She came to a stop in front of Daisy. “He visits you.”
“He arrived with the Earl of Astor.”
“The Earl of Astor?” Lines of concern creased her brow. “Is he friendly with the earl?”
She didn’t believe Auric to be friendly with anyone beyond Marcus. As she saw no other way to gently let the other woman down, she said, “He’s playing matchmaker, Mama.”
“He’s matchmaking for you?” Her mother pursed her lips. “Do not be silly. Why would Auric play matchmaker?”
Likely because he felt some form of brotherly obligation to her. Except, there was nothing brotherly in his kiss. “Perhaps from some misbegotten sense of loyalty to Lionel.” Auric’s devotion to Lionel through the years in life and in death had been steadfast.
Daisy may as well have thrust a dagger into her mother’s chest. Those words, the mere mention of Lionel jerked the other woman erect. “Don’t be silly.”
She didn’t doubt, even with his death, that Auric carried a commitment to his best friend’s family. “That is all we are,” she said, needing the words more for herself. “An obligation, Mama. He must live his life.”
Her mother swirled away. “Cease this instant,” she cried, clamping her hands over her ears. “This is not about…about…”
“Lionel,” Daisy supplied, feeling a needle of guilt as her mother went wan. “And it is about Lionel, for there is no other accounting for his frequent visits.” Even as she wished there was more, he’d proven with his interest in seeing her wed that there was not more.
There is the kiss…
Agnes entered the room, bearing a tray of refreshments. She looked between mother and daughter and then hurried to set her burden down. Daisy expected her mother to touch her hands to her temples, plead a megrim, and rush out, as she was wont to do. Instead, she claimed a seat on the sofa and proceeded to pour herself a cup of tea. “Sit down, Daisy.”
Daisy blinked and then automatically slid into the chair across from her mother. The other woman added sugar and milk and then took a sip. “How long have you loved him?”
She choked. “How long have I—?”
“Loved him. Thirteen years? Fourteen?” Twelve. “I daresay you’d not be so dismissive of Auric if you’d have his heart.” She gave her a knowing, motherly look from over the rim of her cup.
Unaccustomed to communicating with her mother in not only this way, but also any way, Daisy glanced down at her lap. “He doesn’t know I exist.” After so many years with no one to talk to and confide in, there was something sweet and wonderful in hearing her own voice and knowing someone else heard it, too.
Mother snorted. “If that was the case, then he’d not come week after week, even when I’m not receiving callers.”
“What of the suitors he’s trying to foist me off on?” Pain pressed on her heart. Why would he do that if he truly cared for her in the way she wished him to care?
“Oh, I never claimed he was smart. He is, after all, a gentleman and would no sooner know his own feelings than he’d spot the sun falling from the sky.”
A startled bark of laughter bubbled past Daisy’s lips and she delighted in a glimpse of her mother’s former verve.
Her mother gave her a smile. “Now, my dear, instead of all this wounded hurt at his presenting you with possible suitors, I suggest you do something a good deal better.”
Daisy tipped her head.
Her mother took another sip and then lowered the delicate, porcelain piece to her lap. “Why, you make him jealous.”
There was a greater likelihood of the sun falling from the sky as her mother had earlier commented than in Auric being jealous over her. Daisy made a sound of impatience and hopped to her feet. “Make him jealous?” A humorless laugh escaped her. “I do love you Mother, but you do not see…” She let the words trail off. For the same woman who’d ceased to remember her daughter’s existence these years, now looked at her through the lens of a proud mama, her judgment skewed.
“See what, Daisy?” her mother called up from her seat. “You’ve lovely hair.”
“It is brown,” she complained. Lady Stanhope and Lady Leticia and all their gloriously golden, loose curls slipped into her mind. “And tightly curled.” When every other sought after lady had those flowing, loose curls.
“It is unique. Just as your freckles.”
Unique, which was really just a polite way
of saying deuced odd. Daisy wandered over to the ornate, gold-framed mirror. She studied herself with a critical eye. She was seeing those brown curls and freckles and trying, desperately trying, to see a hint of truth to her mother’s prideful words. With a disgusted shake of her head, she shifted her attention to her form. “And I’m plump,” she pointed out, not taking her gaze from the not-at-all slender, lithe figure appreciated by gentlemen. Or rather, appreciated by the only gentleman that mattered.
Her mother came to her feet and sailed over. “You are indeed plump.”
Daisy’s lips pulled up at one corner in a wry smile. “Thank you.” She wasn’t insulted. She appreciated that honesty.
Her mother rapped her on the knuckles. “Do hush, I was not finished.” She gripped Daisy’s shoulders and forced her gaze to the plump, freckled woman reflected back at them. “You have a form that any sensible gentleman would admire.” The marchioness ignored Daisy’s snort. She took her by the hands.
“What are you doing?” Daisy asked, shifting awkwardly on her feet, as her mother turned her about, eyeing her the way Cook might assess a corner hock of beef.
“Shh,” her mother urged. Mama released her suddenly and raised a hand to her chin. “Hmm.” She tapped the tip of her finger against her lower lip and, but for that meditative glimmer in her eyes, said nothing. For a long while.
Daisy shifted on her feet, in that moment finding she might prefer the lack of notice to this contemplative study. She’d become so accustomed to being invisible where her mother was concerned, that she didn’t know what to do with this scrutiny.
Then her mother took a step backward, shaking her head. “Oh, Daisy, how remiss I’ve been.” She eyed Daisy’s mauve skirts, shame fairly bleeding from her eyes.
Smoothing her palms over the front of her dress, she looked down and attempted to see what had earned the regretful look from her mother.
“I’ve failed to see you for too long, my dear.”
A swell of emotion balled in Daisy’s throat. “It is fine,” she managed, wishing her words came out clear and full of conviction.
Heart of a Duke 04 - Loved By a Duke Page 14
