A Duke She Can't Refuse

by Gemma Blackwood

  If Alexander said she could do it, then she could. No two ways about it.

  Daisy swung out her other leg, closed her eyes, and dropped forwards.

  She struck Alexander so hard that he staggered backwards, his arms wrapping around her, his legs buckling. Her eyes flew open.

  “I did it!”

  He clutched her closely against him and pressed a kiss into her smoky hair. “My brave girl.”

  Her feet had hardly found solid ground before he was tugging her back through the dark garden. “We shouldn’t stay too close to the house.”

  Daisy let him lead her to a bench beneath a sweet little gazebo. It was unnaturally peaceful after the terror of the fire inside the house. Now that she was regaining her awareness of what was happening around her, she heard shouts from the street around the front. Only a little smoke was visible from where she sat. The house looked strangely calm.

  Her legs gave way beneath her and she sat down on the bench with a heavy thud. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “How did you find me?”

  “My carriage was stopped by the crowd outside. And I found you…” He lowered his eyes, shaking his head slowly as though he could only then understand the danger she had been in. “Providence. Simple fate. Something I have never trusted in before.”

  He knelt before her, his knees sinking into the damp lawn. Taking hold of her left wrist, he ran his hands up her arm, bending it gently at the elbow. Satisfied, he set that arm aside and took up her right arm, repeating his examination.

  “I am not hurt,” she said, though she did not really want him to stop.

  “You are in shock. I want to be certain.” He lifted her left ankle and smoothed the palm of his hand up her leg. Daisy shivered, and not only from the cold.

  “Did that hurt?” he asked, immediately on alert.

  She leaned forwards and took hold of his face. “I am not hurt,” she repeated. “I am perfectly well.”

  Alexander stared into her eyes for a moment, only the outline of his features visible in the moonlight, and kissed her.

  He tasted of smoke and fear and deep, unsatisfied hunger. Daisy let him take the lead, his hands tangling in her hair, his lips making a conquest of hers, soft sounds of passion growling deep in his throat. Her heart beat harder than it ever had in the fire.

  When they broke apart, her breathing was ragged and heavy. Alexander brushed back the hair that the rain had plastered to her forehead. “Take my jacket,” he said, shrugging it off.

  “I am not cold.”

  “You are shivering.” He settled it about her shoulders. “A poor sort of fiancé I would be if I rescued you from a fire only to let you freeze to death.”

  “What sort of fiancé are you, exactly?” The question left her lips entirely without her permission. She had not meant to ask. She knew she was likely to hear an answer she did not want.

  Alexander looked at her a long moment, rain forming rivulets down his face. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t tell me I am imagining it. It isn’t just a certain look, or a kind word. I know you well enough to guess that you treat everybody with kindness. This is different.” She touched the jewels she still wore about her neck. “You gave me your mother’s necklace. You kissed me when you swore you wouldn’t. What are we doing, Alexander? Who are we fooling – society, or ourselves?”

  He let her go and pushed himself to his feet, looking back towards the house. “Your mother was worried sick about you. There must be a side gate.”

  “We can hardly go searching for it with the house on fire.” She rose to her feet, too, standing on tiptoe to better look him in the eye. “Tell me the truth. You are beginning to feel something for me. I know it.”

  He did not look at her. “What you suggest is impossible.”

  Daisy stretched out her hand and wiped the rain from his cheek. She pressed it against his face, just enough to turn his head towards her. To her horror, his eyes were full of pain. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

  “Afraid?” He cracked a small, bitter smile. “I assure you, Daisy, nothing about you frightens me.”

  “Then why don’t you admit what is happening?” Her pride was lying in tatters in the grass. If he had not already guessed what she felt for him, he certainly would now.

  Alexander closed his eyes, pressed his hand against the one she held to his cheek, and then gently removed it. “It is not your fault, Daisy. You have done nothing wrong. Though I wish you had told me what you were feeling sooner. You promised to be honest with me, did you not?”

  She nodded, a burning feeling in her throat that had nothing to do with the fire.

  “I should have realised what was happening,” he went on. “But you have a way of getting past my defences. Of making me do things I shouldn’t. I apologise.”

  “I don’t want an apology.” Her voice cracked. “I want to know why.”

  “Why I can’t let myself fall in love with you?” He groaned, pushing a hand through his mass of dark hair and sending a spray of raindrops into the air. “Because I made a mistake as a young man. One I can never put right. I stole the happiness of the two people who meant most to me in the world. Until I have atoned for that, I cannot seek happiness for myself. And I fear it is a sin that can never be wiped out.”

  Daisy hugged herself, the cold seeping into her skin even through Alexander’s jacket. He noticed her shivering, moved to rub his hands over her arms, then pulled them away as though he thought better of it.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “Did you promise yourself to someone else? Did you break someone’s heart?”

  “Something much worse than that,” he said. His voice deepened to a rasp, caught on some hidden, primal pain. “I killed my closest friend.”

  “Miss Morton!” A beam of light cut through the rain. A constable appeared at the corner of the house, holding up a lantern. “Miss Morton! Is that you? Are you well?”

  “Yes!” Daisy cried, turning from Alexander and blinking away the tears that had mixed with the rain falling in her eyes. “Yes, I am quite safe. The duke saved me.”

  What a pathetically hopeful sentence that was. The duke saved me. Only weeks before, the very thought of being saved from danger by a duke would have thrilled Daisy to the bones. Now, in the face of Alexander’s rejection, the words were hollow and mocking.

  “Your Grace!” The constable bowed, the lantern swinging wildly. “The fire is under control. Please follow me to the front of the house. Miss Morton’s mother is very concerned.”

  “My mother!” Daisy cast her self-pity aside as the reality of what had just happened struck her in full force. “Oh, heavens, she must have thought I had burned to death!” She tried to run forwards but was halted by a racking cough.

  Alexander was at her side in a moment. “Put your arms around my neck,” he commanded.

  If the coughing had not left her sick and dizzy, she would not have obeyed him. What could be more humiliating than being carried to safety by the man who had just told her he would never love her?

  But Alexander did not wait for her to argue. He swept her up in his arms and carried her down the narrow path at the side of the house, the constable’s light hitting his face at odd angles and making his grim expression all the more fearsome.

  Daisy clutched his shirt. For balance. Not for any other reason. She hoped that the way she refused to meet his eyes made that perfectly clear.

  Perhaps his confession had shocked her wits from her, but she was not certain she was inclined to believe what he had told her. Alexander was not a murderer. Nor was he the sort to fight duels or throw errant punches. How, then, to explain the fact that he claimed to have killed a man?

  And what on earth did it have to do with the fact that Daisy was falling head over heels in love with him?

  They rounded the corner of the house to find the street bustling with people. A line of men passing buckets of water stretched down the street. There did not seem to be any more smoke c
oming from the windows.

  “Daisy!”

  Alexander set her down carefully on the front lawn just as her mother reached them. Lady Peyton flung herself onto Daisy’s shoulder, crying and clinging to her pathetically. Daisy patted her back, trying not to cough.

  “I am not hurt, Mama. Alexander took good care of me.”

  Lord Peyton appeared behind his wife, concern etched into his usually placid face. “My dear girl!” he kept repeating, as stunned as though he had received a blow to the head. “My dear girl!”

  “Send a messenger to Morton House,” Alexander commanded the constable. “Lord Northmere will be beside himself if he hears of the fire before he receives the news that his family is safe.”

  “At once, Your Grace.” The constable bowed and hurried off to obey him.

  Selina and Anthea emerged from the crowd, white-faced and clutching their shawls around them. “You have given us the fright of our lives!” Selina snapped. “Imagine how we felt when we heard you had run into a burning building!”

  “I hoped you all might think I was rather heroic.” To Daisy’s astonishment, Alexander had lost all trace of grimness. In fact, he sounded excessively pleased with himself. It was as though his hoarse confession in the garden had never happened. “I did save Daisy, after all.”

  “I would have saved myself if you had only given me the chance!”

  That, at least, was what she intended to say. What actually emerged from her mouth was another painful cough.

  “Come with us,” said Selina, putting her arm around her. “We will take you to Morton House in our carriage. You ought to get out of the rain. Lord and Lady Peyton, you must come too.”

  “Thank you, but I should remain here.” Lord Peyton looked up at the house with a dark expression. “I want to get to the bottom of what has happened in my home tonight.”

  “What do you mean?” Lady Peyton was still clinging to Daisy as Selina tried to lead them away. “One of the maids must have knocked over a candle! Surely there was nothing sinister about this?”

  Lord Peyton and Alexander exchanged a grim look.

  “Nothing to trouble you with, my dear,” said Lord Peyton.

  “Selina,” said Alexander, “take Daisy home.”

  Daisy was firmly of the opinion that she would much rather be troubled with their suspicions than not, and the sooner the better. But the world had begun spinning around her at a disturbing pace. She took a step forwards, stumbled, and caught Selina’s arm as she fell.

  “We are taking you home at once,” said Anthea, linking her arm with Daisy’s. “Lean on me. I am stout enough to carry you, if I must!”

  There was nothing she could do but let her friends lead her away. The last she saw of Alexander was his dark head dipping low as he and Lord Peyton engaged in an agitated conversation with the chief constable.

  Something very wrong had happened at Lord Peyton’s house that night. But her head was aching, and pain tore at her throat, and the arms of her friends were steady and comforting. Daisy let her head fall onto Anthea’s shoulder.

  Solving mysteries would have to wait until the morning.

  10

  Was a bunch of hothouse anemones the appropriate gift to give a girl to whom one was engaged, but could not marry?

  What about a girl who had all but declared her love, and was rewarded only with a grim confession of a long-buried secret?

  Alexander briefly considered throwing the flowers away as he waited for the butler at Morton House to open the door. He had still not made his decision when the eccentric Mr Tyler made his appearance.

  “Good morning, Your Grace!” he said, bowing so deeply his precarious toupee nearly tumbled to the floor. “Do come in at once! You will be pleased to hear that Miss Morton is already out of bed and marvellously recovered from her frightful experience.” He took a deep sniff of the flowers. “These are her favourite,” he added, with a conspiratorial wink.

  Wonderful. Not only had Alexander given Daisy the impression that there was any hope for romance between them, but he was now compounding the effect by inadvertently remembering her favourite flower.

  Mr Tyler showed him into the drawing room, where Daisy was barely visible on the sofa beneath a confusion of cushions and blankets. Lady Peyton was sitting beside her, attempting to hold a cup of tea to her lips. When Alexander came in, she dropped the cup back into the saucer so rapidly that it spilled over.

  “My dear duke!” Lady Peyton set down the tea, ran forwards with her arms outstretched and, to Alexander’s great alarm, planted a smacking kiss on each of his cheeks. “The hero of the hour!”

  Alexander used the anemones to ward off further expression of her gratitude. “I am sorry to call so early –”

  “Nonsense,” Daisy interrupted cheerfully. Her voice was a little hoarse, but she sounded otherwise well. “You wanted to see if I had coughed myself to death in the night. Well, I did not. And I am excessively pleased to have some company. Will you please tell my sweet mother how well I am looking? You might remark upon the bright colour in my cheeks.” She turned her face from one side to the other to demonstrate, clearly unaware that she was still very pale.

  Alexander pulled up a chair and sat beside her. “I hate to disagree with you, but I am on your mother’s side. You must rest.”

  Daisy’s frown transformed into a sunlit smile when she saw the flowers. “Alexander! You are spoiling me again.” She propped herself up on the cushions and reached for them. “Be careful. You will give me the impression that all I have to do to receive beautiful flowers is throw myself into mortal danger.”

  A hacking cough shook her shoulders. Alexander gently took the flowers back and set them on the table. “Lie back,” he commanded. “I would hate to see you exert yourself on my account.”

  “She is terribly wilful, Duke!” Lady Peyton complained. “She does nothing but try to get up. I think she needs something to occupy her.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “A wedding to plan, perhaps?”

  Only by avoiding Daisy’s eye could he maintain his smooth composure. “A pity, then, that we are both set on a long engagement.”

  “Fiddlesticks! You young people have such strange ideas! I have never dreamed of having a long engagement, and I have been married three times, and proposed to a few more than that! Believe me, there is no need to dawdle when everything is agreed. What are you waiting for?”

  Daisy’s wince had grown deeper with every word that poured from her mother’s lips. Fortunately, this was not Alexander’s first encounter with Lady Peyton’s flighty nature.

  “Three marriages, and more proposals besides!” he said admiringly. “You must have been quite the temptress back in your day, Lady Peyton.”

  The lady’s mouth snapped closed like a rat trap. Alexander restrained himself from chuckling aloud. He was certain that the implication that Lady Peyton’s best days were behind her would not be at all appreciated.

  They were saved from further embarrassment by the appearance of Ralph, who had lost a little of his usual perfectly coiffed composure. He bowed to Alexander much more deeply than he ever had before.

  “Loxwell,” he said, striding forward to shake Alexander’s hand. “I have heard all you did last night. How can I ever thank you?”

  Alexander clasped his arm warmly. “No thanks are necessary. I did what was right, that’s all.”

  Ralph looked at Daisy and shook his head, a sick expression twisting his mouth. “When I think of what might have happened…”

  “But it did not happen, Ralph.” Daisy sat up straighter and gently batted Ralph’s leg with one of her cushions. “No need to be sentimental.”

  Ralph let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan. He dropped Alexander’s hand and paced briskly to the fireplace and back again. “Ah! I won’t dwell on it.” His sharp eyes darted to Lady Peyton. “Mother, before I forget, the housekeeper asked to speak with you. It’s important.”

  Lady Peyton hesitated. “I
shouldn’t leave Daisy –”

  “Quite urgent, apparently.” Ralph pulled a face to imply that whatever was happening below stairs was not at all good. “You know how this place falls apart when Jemima is away.”

  “Oh, I will go if I must!” Lady Peyton declared, swishing her skirts in irritation. She made a brief curtsey to Alexander before sweeping from the room.

  Daisy was holding a hand to her mouth to stop herself laughing. “Ralph, you are wicked! The poor housekeeper will have to invent some urgent matter on the spot!”

  “Oh, she’s had enough practice dealing with Mother.” Ralph made a show of reaching for the bell pull. “I will send for her to come back if you like.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Daisy’s cry of protest was marred somewhat by another fit of coughing. Ralph and Alexander exchanged looks of alarm. They each took a seat, Alexander on the chair beside her, Ralph on the arm of the sofa.

  “Try a little tea,” said Alexander, taking up the teacup and wiping off the drops that Lady Peyton had spilled. “It may help.”

  “Don’t you dare try to feed it to me,” Daisy warned him. Ralph folded his arms and looked down at her sternly.

  “Don’t argue, Daisy. If the duke wants to play nursemaid, let him. You are not well.”

  Alexander caught Daisy stealing a glance at him to see how he took the term nursemaid. He kept his face impassive. Ralph was warming up to him, and that was the most important thing. Alexander knew all too well how he would feel about a man who thought about one of his sisters the way he thought about Daisy.

  He let Daisy take the teacup and watched closely as she took a sip.

  “Has the doctor been?”

  “Yes. He says there’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “That is not what he said,” Ralph sighed. “He told you to rest, and he told me and Mother to keep a close eye on you. If the cough gets better in the next few days, there should be no lasting symptoms.”

  “Precisely.” Daisy rolled her eyes, eliciting another groan from her brother. “And since it is getting better already, it is plain to see that there is nothing seriously wrong.” She passed the teacup back to Alexander, brushing her fingers against his hand in the process. “But what about you, Alexander? You must have breathed in as much smoke as I did.”