“You’re wearing it,” he said.
Daisy touched the place where the necklace brushed her collarbone. “Thank you. It’s lovely. But I don’t know what I did to deserve such a gift.”
He knew what she was asking. She was not the sort of girl who hungered after fine jewellery. She wanted to know what the necklace meant. But in order to answer that question, he would have had to know himself.
“It belonged to my mother,” he said.
Daisy’s eyes widened. “Alexander,” she whispered. “You should not have given me this. Someday I shall have to give it back.”
“And why is that?” He offered her his arm and added, in a low voice, “Call it a gift of friendship, if you will. My mother left me many things, and I know she would have loved the way it looks on you.”
Daisy’s hand closed around the largest jewel in the centre of the necklace. “I do not know many dukes. I never imagined they gave all their friends diamond necklaces.”
“You are no ordinary friend. Think of it as a memento of our unique arrangement.” The audience had begun filtering out of the foyer and into the theatre. Selina and Anthea came to join them. Anthea let out a gasp as she saw the necklace.
“Oh, Daisy! It looks perfect on you.” She kissed her on both cheeks. “I have been longing for Alexander to find someone worthy of Mama’s jewellery for years!”
Daisy’s hand tightened on Alexander’s arm. She looked from Anthea to Selina in consternation. “I would never have accepted it if I knew who it once belonged to. Surely it would be better if one of you had it?”
“Not at all.” Selina gave her an encouraging smile. “Our mother left plenty to all of us. Some things to keep, and some to do with as we pleased. I could not be happier to see you wearing her necklace.”
Alexander breathed a sigh of relief. He and Selina were the siblings who remembered their mother best, and he had not been certain she would approve of his giving the necklace to Daisy. How could he explain that, false or not, their engagement was growing more important to him by the day? He certainly could not tell Selina that he had given the necklace to honour the much more meaningful gift of Daisy’s first kiss. Her trust. Her wide eyes gazing into his.
Memories as precious to him now as any from the few happy years with his parents.
As they reached the entrance to their box, Alexander caught sight of a familiar balding head further down the corridor. “Excuse me a moment.” He held open the door for the ladies to enter and let it fall closed before hurrying across to greet Mr Kettleburn.
“Your Grace!” The lawyer bowed deeply. “How pleasant to see you here. I trust you are well?” He rubbed his hands together. “I must congratulate you on your recent engagement! Such a happy event. She is a very lucky young lady indeed!”
“Thank you.” Alexander was beginning to dislike the lawyer’s oily deference. Kettleburn was not alone in attempting to appeal to the ducal ego, but he had a particular wheedling tone that set Alexander’s teeth on edge. Old Loxwell must have been a tolerant man indeed to put up with him for so many years. “Mr Kettleburn, there is a rather delicate matter I wish to discuss with you. Miss Morton saw you entering my bedroom when you were last at the house. It was just before I took the duchess in to collect her husband’s things. Do you recall why you were in there?”
“Your bedroom, Your Grace?” Kettleburn scratched his chin. “I would never presume to enter your private rooms without permission!”
“Perhaps you were looking for the water closet and lost your way,” Alexander suggested. Kettleburn hesitated a moment, then shook his head firmly.
“No, Your Grace. Miss Morton must be mistaken. I have never entered your bedroom.”
“Yes, that is the most likely explanation. A simple mistake. Well, I am sorry to trouble you.” Alexander turned to go, then stopped as though only just remembering something. “One other thing. I wonder if you know the whereabouts of a particular vase the duchess was looking for. A white vase with an orange and blue pattern. Does it appear in the late duke’s will at all?”
“A vase?” Kettleburn repeated. Alexander held his breath, scanning the man’s face for any sign of recognition. “No, Your Grace. I cannot recall any mention of a vase. I will check the documents tomorrow to see whether it appears.”
“No need,” said Alexander airily. “I’m sure it will turn up. Enjoy the play.”
He glanced back over his shoulder just before entering his box to find Kettleburn staring after him, all pretence at servility gone. In its place was a cruel sneer which distorted his features from those of a benign old gentleman to a cunning fox.
Alexander turned his head away before Kettleburn realised he was watching. He took a moment to settle himself as a shiver of apprehension traced down his spine.
He was certain now that Daisy was right, and Kettleburn had been lying. He would have the man dismissed as quickly as possible. Whatever Kettleburn had wanted to steal from the old duke’s estate, he would not have access to it for long.
Daisy’s eyes turned to him as he stepped into the box. She smiled in a way that sent a sunburst of warmth through his chest. “It’s just starting. Sit with me?”
“Where else?” He drew his chair forwards so that everyone in the audience could see he was at Daisy’s side. She leaned her elbows onto the balustrade and gazed down at the stage with rapt wonder. It was wonderful to see. Even Anthea had never been so helplessly entranced by a play.
As the actors began their speeches, Alexander found himself watching Daisy much more than the action on stage. The play of emotions across her face was far more entrancing than anything a playwright could invent.
He wanted to memorise the way she looked when she was shocked, sad, joyful. What did it mean when she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth that way? Would he ever be able to make her laugh as she was laughing now, her teeth flashing and her head thrown back?
When the curtain fell on the first act, Alexander clapped politely and dragged his gaze from Daisy’s face to find Selina watching him just as closely as he had been studying his pseudo-fiancée. Guilt flooded through him.
He was making a show of himself for more than just the audience. He needed to speak to Selina, and soon, to tell her that he had not forgotten the promise he had once made her.
Daisy was distracting, yes, but he would not abandon his duty. Family came first.
He would have liked to leave the box to stretch his legs a little before the second act, but the interval was entirely taken up by a stream of visitors all bowing respectfully and congratulating him and Daisy on their engagement. A few were brave enough to inquire as to when the wedding might take place – there was more than one hint for an invitation – and Alexander heard Daisy stumble over the answer. Before he could step in and rescue her, Selina made her own smooth interjection.
“Before long, I hope. My brother is a busy man, but not too busy to take care of such important business as this.” She put her arm around Daisy. “We are all so excited. Daisy is already part of the family. All the wedding will do is make it official.”
Daisy beamed and kissed Selina’s cheek. Alexander felt sick. He could only imagine what Selina’s show of enthusiasm cost her.
The second act passed without further incident. Daisy and Lady Peyton did not stop to chat to their acquaintances in the foyer; Lord Peyton had just arrived from the country and they were to join him at his house for a late supper.
“You must remember not to call on me at Morton House any longer,” Daisy reminded him as she left. “Unless you want to call on Ralph and risk triggering another explosion of brotherly protection. The last of my things should be unpacked and ready at Lord Peyton’s house now, and I will be there until the end of the Season, when he and my mother leave for their tour of Europe.”
“That is, unless you find yourself living with us before the Season is over,” said Selina with a smile. Daisy pressed her hand, bid a fond goodbye to Anthea, and followed her mother
out of the theatre.
“Selina.” The warning note in his voice shocked a sharp glance from his sister.
“Is something wrong, Alex?”
Something was very wrong, but he dared not mention it explicitly with so many people around them and Anthea, for one, listening to every word they said.
Fortunately, Anthea was a dose too perceptive for her own good. “I sense an intrigue,” she said, looking from Alexander to Selina with a knowing smile. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”
“No,” said Alexander and Selina in unison. Anthea made a theatrical pout.
“You are not so much older than me, Alex, duke or not. I don’t like being kept out of a secret!”
Selina glanced in the direction of one of the gentlemen Anthea had been conversing with so eagerly before the play began. “Is that so? I expect you tell us all of your own secrets, don’t you?”
Anthea flushed red. “Of course I do.” Alexander suspected she had never told a more outrageous lie. “Please excuse me. There are a few friends I ought to say goodbye to.”
“I’m sure there are.” Selina waved her on, laughing. “Give my regards to Lord Wetherton. We will wait for you in the carriage.”
Anthea’s face was a picture at the mention of Lord Wetherton’s name. Shock, guilt and discomfort pulled her mouth into a tight little moue. She turned on her heel and marched back towards her friends without another word.
“What was that about?” Alexander asked, as they stepped outside. A light rain was falling. Selina held up a hand to shield her face.
“Believe me, it’s better that you don’t know.” Their carriage was waiting in the street, and a footman held open the door as she stepped inside. Once the outside world had been shut away, Selina fixed Alexander with a quizzical expression. “I have done something to upset you.”
He removed his top hat and ran a hand through his hair. “You have no right to tease Daisy by talking of wedding dates.”
“I thought the entire point was to convince the world that you wish to marry her?”
“Yes – the rest of the world, not Daisy herself.” His hair was a tousled mess. Selina pursed her lips, running her eyes over it as though her fingers itched to fix it. Alexander realised he would have to be honest. “The situation with Daisy has taken an unexpected turn. The last thing I want is to hurt her, but I fear…” He made a vague gesture in the air. “I fear her imagination is running away with her.”
Selina laid her hands in her lap and regarded him steadily. “Her imagination?”
“Yes.”
“Does she also imagine the way you look at her?”
Alexander’s fingers tightened on his hat. “That is all part of the pretence.”
“I never knew you were such a wonderful actor.” Selina’s left eyebrow arched elegantly upwards, but even the haughtiest expression could not disguise the sadness in her eyes. “I know what it means when a man looks at a woman that way. Once upon a time, someone used to gaze at me with a very similar expression. Or had you forgotten?”
“I will never forget,” said Alexander softly. “Nor will I ever forgive myself for what I did about it. You know that.”
Selina sighed. “That’s not what I –”
She closed her mouth abruptly as Anthea clambered into the carriage. Anthea pulled the bonnet from her hair and wrung it out, splattering water over Alexander’s knees. “It’s raining!” she announced redundantly and looked from Alexander to Selina with concern. “Though the temperature’s a good deal more icy in here than outside. You haven’t fallen out, have you?”
“Not at all,” said Alexander, rapping on the roof. The carriage lurched off over the cobbles in response.
“What did you think of the play?” Selina could not have chosen a question better designed to launch Anthea into an endless monologue. Alexander suspected she had done it on purpose.
He attempted to make sense of his hair with his gloved hand before settling the hat back on his head, pulling it low over his eyes. Anthea’s chatter and the motion of the carriage lulled him into a restless half-doze.
He was extremely careful that Daisy Morton and her tempting lips did not appear in his idle dreaming. He doubted that either of his sisters could read minds, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
The carriage came to an abrupt halt.
“Are we home?” asked Anthea, surprised. She peered out of the window. “No, we’re on Highbridge Street.”
Alexander cracked open the door and called to the footman. “What’s going on? Why have we stopped?”
“Nobody’s moving, Your Grace,” said the footman. “Trouble up ahead.”
“What sort of trouble?”
The footman gave an audible sniff. “Smells like fire to me.”
Alexander glanced at his sisters, both of whom were preparing to leave the carriage and take a look for themselves. “Stay inside,” he warned them. “It may not be safe.” He ducked through the door, swinging it closed on Anthea’s outraged expression.
The rain was still falling, but there was a sharp taste of smoke in the air. Alexander moved forwards, dodging between restless horses and stalled carriages, until he reached the source of the blockage.
A woman in a green dress and an elaborate turban was wailing in the street as smoke poured from the upstairs windows of a fine-looking townhouse. A portly gentleman was restraining her from running back inside.
Alexander’s heart reacted before his brain understood what his eyes were seeing. It froze in his chest.
The woman turned to the gathering crowd, tears streaking her familiar face, and let out an unearthly scream. “My daughter is still in there! Please, someone save my Daisy!”
Alexander dashed forwards and caught Lady Peyton by the arms, helping her portly husband keep her from running back into the smoke.
“Where is she?” he bellowed. “Which room? Tell me where to find her!”
“Oh, Your Grace,” Lady Peyton sobbed. “Oh, save her, save her!”
“She was upstairs,” said Lord Peyton. “In the library – down the corridor to the right. I tried to get there myself, but the smoke – Here!” he called, as Alexander sprang away. “Take my handkerchief! Cover your mouth!”
Alexander snatched the handkerchief from Lord Peyton and clasped it over his nose and mouth, running into the smoke-filled building without a second thought.
9
The first thing to do was not to panic.
Daisy congratulated herself on her lack of wailing terror as she pressed her chest against the carpet of Lord Peyton’s upstairs hallway, smoke billowing above her. Her heart did seem to be pumping unnaturally fast, but overall, she felt quite calm.
She had always suspected she would be heroic in the face of mortal danger, and while she did not seem to be at imminent risk of burning to death, she was pleased to see that her confidence was well-founded.
The second thing, of course, was to find a way out. And that was where Daisy was struggling.
She had never stayed at Lord Peyton’s house before and she did not know it well. After emerging from the upstairs library to find the air full of smoke, she had dropped to the floor and begun crawling in the direction that she thought led to the servant’s staircase. She had reached a promising doorway, only to discover that it opened onto her mother’s bedroom. As the smoke thickened, her prospects of remembering the way to the servant’s entrance in time to escape grew slimmer. She moved on her hands and knees, stopping every so often to cough, and made her way back along the lengthy corridor to the grand staircase.
That staircase, unfortunately, was full of choking smoke. Daisy was not certain, but she thought she saw orange flames licking their way up the bannisters from below.
Daisy crawled slowly backwards, one hand pressed over her mouth. The air was becoming hard to breathe.
That was when a tall, broad-shouldered figure plunged up through the smoke filling the staircase.
Alexander caught Daisy un
der the arms and heaved her up, pushing her ahead of him as he ran down the corridor. She tried to speak to him, but a fit of coughing doubled her over. He caught her up at the waist, flung her over his shoulder and kicked open the closest door.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, slamming the door closed on the smoke. Daisy shook her head, still gasping for breath. She was not quite sure that the smoke hadn’t addled her brains. What was Alexander doing in her stepfather’s townhouse?
They were in a small guest room with an unlit candelabra standing in one corner. Alexander seized it and used its heavy base to smash through the window at the back of the room. “Can you walk?” he asked, turning back to her.
She nodded.
Alexander kicked out the rest of the glass in the window and swung his leg out through the hole. “You will have to follow me,” he said, stretching his hand out towards her.
Daisy clung to his arm and looked over his shoulder at the drop into the dark garden below. “I don’t think I can…”
“You must. I will catch you.” He swung out his other leg, paused for a second, and dropped to the ground, rolling with the impact.
Daisy clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle a scream. She leaned out, peering into the darkness. “Alexander!” Another fit of coughing overwhelmed her.
“I’m here!” He was struggling to his feet below. “I’m not hurt!”
He spread his arms to catch her. Daisy’s legs trembled.
“I can’t.” She glanced behind her. The air in the room was growing hazy.
“You’ll be safe!” he called. “I promise!”
Daisy swung a leg out through the window frame, careful to avoid the shards of broken glass. Alexander seemed an awfully long way down.
“Hurry!” he called. His voice was rough, desperate, but carried that familiar tone of command that spoke to the innermost part of her, the part that had forgotten all about not panicking and was shaking and crying like a child.
A Duke She Can't Refuse Page 7
