A Duke She Can't Refuse

by Gemma Blackwood

  “Not at all. I found you almost the instant I entered the house.” Her concern touched him deep in the places he had been trying to shut away. “And Lord Peyton’s handkerchief kept out the worst of it. I am perfectly unharmed.”

  In fact, he had twisted his ankle rather nastily in his drop from the window, but he did not see the slightest need to worry Daisy with a trifle like that.

  Ralph was watching them too closely for comfort. “I am glad to have a moment to speak to the pair of you alone. There are several things we need to discuss.”

  “Ralph.” Daisy’s voice carried a stern warning. “Be nice. Alexander has saved my life, after all.”

  Ralph ignored her, turning his sharp gaze to Alexander. “You should know that I am aware of the circumstances that led you to propose to my sister.”

  “I expected nothing less,” said Alexander calmly. “My elder sister, Selina, also knows the truth.”

  “I will take this opportunity to remind you that an engagement which does not end in a marriage is just as likely to damage Daisy’s reputation as anything else.”

  “Quite so. That is why I intend to remain on friendly terms with both of you once this is all over. We will say that, in the end, Daisy and I simply did not suit each other. There will be nothing for anybody to gossip about. Except, of course, that I will release Daisy from the engagement early if she finds a gentleman worthy of taking my place.” Alexander was surprised to find how bitter those words tasted. “You may think your position is difficult, Lord Northmere, but consider how much worse mine is. You have only one headstrong sister to manage. I have four. Believe me, I understand how you feel.”

  Ralph cracked a smile. “You really are quite unfortunate,” he said, thrusting his hands into his pockets. “We will have to find a real match for Daisy quickly to relieve you of the additional burden.”

  Alexander’s smile froze on his face.

  “In the meantime…” Ralph hesitated. “Ah. How can I put this? As things stand, you have done a sterling job of convincing the ton that your affection for her is genuine. But there is such a thing as taking it too far. If Daisy is to have any hope of attracting real interest, it will be necessary for you to… Well, to maintain a certain distance. Give the other gentlemen some cause to hope.”

  “Ralph.” Daisy nearly launched herself from her pillows in her outrage. “It is none of your business how Alexander behaves around me!”

  “On the contrary. I am your brother and your guardian, and your future is as important to me as my own.” Ralph nodded to Alexander. “I’m sure the duke understands.”

  Alexander understood perfectly. His heart rebelled against it, but he had to admit that Ralph’s request made sense. If he were continually gazing at Daisy, calling at her house with flowers, sending her jewellery and escorting her to every possible social engagement, she would not have a chance of finding a real match. Who would dare go up against the Duke of Loxwell, after all?

  And yet giving up those moments with her was the last thing he wanted. Even though it was selfish. Even though it would only hurt her more if he carried on.

  “I believe we have put Lady Shrewsbury’s gossip to rest,” he said reluctantly. “Perhaps it is time to begin sowing the seeds of disharmony between us. If people begin to suspect that all is not well, other gentlemen will start trying their luck.”

  He hoped the redness in Daisy’s eyes was simply an aftereffect of the fire.

  “But there is disharmony between us, Alexander.” She took another sip of tea. “We agreed to be honest with each other. I have kept my word. You are the one who has not told me the whole truth.”

  “A conversation to have another time, perhaps,” said Ralph, his eyes darting between them. “I have some disturbing news from Lord Peyton that I wish to share with you before my mother returns.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “The fire at Lord Peyton’s house appears to have started in your room, Daisy. None of the maids had been in there for hours before the fire began. Something strange is going on. I cannot think why, but the thought has occurred to me that someone was trying to hurt you – or frighten you, at the least.”

  Alexander’s jaw clenched until his teeth hurt. “I suspected as much,” he said. “I fear this is my fault.”

  “Your fault?” Daisy shook her head and stretched her arm across to the table, attempting to catch hold of a slip of paper which lay there. “Not in the slightest. It is mine.”

  “What?” Alexander stood up and retrieved the note she was reaching for. Rather than taking it, Daisy nodded for him to open it.

  “You’ll see when you have read it,” she said.

  Alexander’s blood chilled as he saw what was scrawled inside.

  A warning to ladies who take what is not theirs.

  “Kettleburn!” he growled, crushing the note in his fist.

  Daisy nodded. “He must have realised that I was the one who took the vase.”

  “What vase?” Ralph demanded, springing up to take the note from Alexander. “Who is this Kettleburn?”

  “A man who will be swiftly brought to justice.” Alexander ran his hand through his hair, taking hold of a fistful and tugging until pain prickled across his scalp. “I am a fool. I was the one who led him to you, Daisy. I met him at the theatre, and I confronted him about what you overheard in my bedroom. And then – how could I have been so blind! – I mentioned that the vase was missing.”

  Ralph’s face had gone pale as he read the note. “Where is this vase now?”

  “In several pieces, and in the care of an expert potter who is making a copy of it for the duchess,” said Alexander. “Daisy was collecting up the pieces when Kettleburn and an unknown associate trespassed in my private rooms. Why he wants it, I have no idea. The potter found nothing about it of note.”

  “We should summon a constable,” said Ralph. “We must have this man arrested. There is no time to delay.”

  “Arrested for what?” asked Daisy. “It is not a crime to look around a man’s bedchamber. And besides, there is only my word that he did that, and Mr Kettleburn is respected in the highest circles. Is there any evidence of who set the fire?”

  “None,” Ralph groaned. “None that has been found so far.”

  “Then we must be clever about it.” Daisy gave Alexander a decisive nod. “You must try to discover what it was he was searching for in your bedchamber. If the vase is worthless, it must somehow have indicated where the object of value lay. Perhaps its position pointed to a secret compartment, or it was hiding a panel of wood which unlocks a secret passageway.”

  “This is no time for games, Daisy,” said Ralph.

  “I am not playing a game. Mr Kettleburn was searching for something of great value that he did not find. The vase was supposed to help him find it, and the vase has been destroyed. Searching the room is the next logical step.”

  “I agree,” said Alexander, giving Ralph an apologetic shrug. “Though I hardly hope to find a secret passageway. Whatever Kettleburn wants, it is somewhere in that room.”

  Daisy treated him to a smile of gratitude. “In the meantime, I will confront Mr Kettleburn –”

  “No,” said Ralph at once.

  “Absolutely not,” agreed Alexander.

  Daisy bit the inside of her cheek. “You haven’t even heard what I suggest –”

  “We don’t need to hear it.” For once, those pleading brown eyes had no effect on him. “It is not going to happen.”

  “You must leave it to us,” Ralph agreed. “Kettleburn has already proven himself a dangerous man. Neither of us would ever forgive ourselves if you came to harm. You know that.”

  Daisy crossed her arms. “Surely you don’t expect me to sit back on a pile of cushions and sip tea while the two men I care for most go hunting for a villain known to be an arsonist and a thief?”

  Ralph opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself, a frown creasing his brow.

  Alexander knew exactly the words that had caught his a
ttention. The two men I care for most.

  That was almost definitely not what Daisy’s loving brother wanted to hear. But Alexander’s heart was warmed by it all the same.

  “Have a care for me,” he said, lowering himself down to look Daisy in the eye as he took her hand. “I have several very important things to explain to you, and I will never be able to clear my conscience if you get yourself killed hunting down a dangerous criminal.”

  His finger stroked caressingly over the back of her hand. He could feel Ralph’s glare burning into him, but it was worth it.

  “Very well.” Daisy sighed and sank back into the cushions. “I will stay out of it. But please, both of you, be careful.”

  “Always.” Alexander winked at her and stood back up. “Northmere, you make enquiries as to Kettleburn’s whereabouts last night. We may yet be able to pin it on him. I will go and begin the search for whatever it is he was after. I suggest you set a watch about the house until Kettleburn is caught. I will do the same.”

  They shook hands, Ralph’s grip a little firmer than necessary. Alexander matched his strength with ease. The handshake lasted until Daisy interrupted them with another cough.

  “I am quite well,” she spluttered, waving their concern away. “But I cannot bear to witness all that peacocking! Alexander, I will call on your sisters as soon as Mama lets me up and about again. You can save your conscience-clearing explanation for a more –” she glanced at Ralph – “A more convenient time.”

  He bowed, briefly considering blowing her a kiss, if only to rile up her brother. Daisy’s warning glare persuaded him to leave well enough alone. As he left, he had the satisfaction of knowing that he had made some progress towards gaining Ralph’s trust.

  And the deep dissatisfaction of knowing that his own foolishness had put Daisy at risk. A risk which might still prove deadly.

  11

  All Lady Peyton’s protestations were not enough to keep Daisy confined to the sofa the following day.

  “I can rest just as well with my hands on the keys of a piano,” she declared, proving it by playing several scales. Ralph had departed that morning in a black mood, having received word that Mr Kettleburn had stopped by the house of a respectable gentleman for supper on the night of the fire. Either a High Court Judge was also involved in the intrigue, or Mr Kettleburn had managed to set a fire without ever setting foot inside Lord Peyton’s house.

  Fortunately, two of Daisy’s suitcases had been left still packed in an anteroom, and had escaped any smoke damage. She would not be forced to endure too many days at the dressmaker’s – a place that always brought her mother’s extravagance to the fore – while she replaced what she had lost. All the same, when Lady Peyton announced that she was going to the haberdasher to look up new furnishings for the burnt shell of Lord Peyton’s house, Daisy was disappointed that she was not permitted to accompany her. The day was bright and inviting and it seemed a shame to play the invalid when she felt perfectly well.

  “You stay here with me, my dear,” said Lord Peyton, patting her hand. “I have exerted myself far too much in these past days, and I must rest! I would be very grateful if you would play to me while I doze.”

  In the face of Lord Peyton’s entreaties and her mother’s concern, Daisy could not help but submit. She sat at the piano and distracted herself from the sunny weather with a languorous waltz designed to soothe Lord Peyton into a slumber. Soon, his rolling snores made a counterpoint to the music.

  When Mr Tyler came in to announce an unexpected visitor, Daisy pressed a finger to her lips.

  “Poor Lord Peyton has suffered such a terrible blow,” she whispered. “I cannot bear to wake him!”

  Tyler bowed and spoke in a stage whisper that would have immediately roused anyone less deaf than Daisy’s stepfather. “You have a gentleman caller, Miss Morton. He says his name is Mr Turner. Shall I show him in?”

  Daisy frowned. She could not recall any acquaintance by the name of Turner. “I suppose you better had,” she said. With a glance to check that Lord Peyton was safely asleep, she arranged herself in a calm pose on the sofa as though she did nothing all day but await morning calls from gentlemen.

  The man who came through the door was tall, fair-haired, and would have been handsome if he did not spend so much time peering about the room, apparently passing judgement based on exacting criteria that only he understood. Daisy nodded politely and allowed him to take her hand.

  “Forgive my intrusion, Miss Morton.” His accent was a little rough, but he spoke like a perfect gentleman. “We have met once before, if you recall, at Lady Shrewsbury’s garden party last year.”

  Now Daisy was completely confused. Something about Mr Turner was strangely familiar, yet she remembered very well that she had spent Lady Shrewsbury’s garden party hiding in the rosebushes with Edith as they watched Selina reject a proposal from a man who was wealthy yet tragically dull. Had she been so distracted that she forgot all about making a new acquaintance?

  “Of course I remember you, Mr Turner,” she lied, smiling graciously. “Though I am afraid I cannot recall what we spoke of then.”

  “Oh, nothing of note! It is quite another matter that brings me here today.” He clasped his hands together as his eyes made another meticulous search of the room. A look of dissatisfaction crossed his face, only to be wiped away and replaced with a benign smile. “May I sit down?”

  “Please do.”

  Turner took the seat closest to Daisy, giving the sleeping Lord Peyton a wary glance. When it became apparent that he would not stir from his slumber, Turner began to speak.

  “I am glad to see you looking so well. The fire at Lord Peyton’s house must have been very alarming.”

  Was that the reason he had called? Merely to ask after the health of a distant acquaintance? Perhaps he was one of those gentlemen only recently elevated in society, and was taking social politeness a little too far in his attempt to fit in. Daisy could be charitable towards a man with such good intentions at heart.

  “I am perfectly recovered, and I thank you sincerely for your concern.”

  Turner breathed out a sigh. “That is good to know!” He glanced towards Lord Peyton again and leaned in closer. “I must also congratulate you on your recent engagement.”

  The thought of Alexander was bittersweet, but there was no need to reveal that to a man she hardly knew. “Thank you. We are extremely happy.”

  “How well did you know the duke before he proposed?”

  That was a little too intimate, even for a man not yet accustomed to society. “Well enough to accept him,” she said coldly.

  Mr Turner fiddled nervously with his shirt collar, as though he suddenly felt too hot. “It is unwise to enter a marriage with a man whose nature one does not truly understand.”

  Now Daisy was really offended. “Mr Turner, you have enquired after my health, and I was happy to give a good report of it, but this is too much. Surely you must see that a moment’s acquaintance over a year ago is not enough to begin lecturing me on the state of my relationship with the duke?”

  He looked as though he would have liked nothing more than to turn and run, but, to her amazement, he pressed on. “Not if I have information about your betrothed that may change your opinion of him.”

  Daisy drew herself up and fixed him with a cool glare she had modelled on Selina. “Nothing that you say could change my opinion of Alexander. He is the best man I know.”

  Turner cleared his throat awkwardly. In a flash, Daisy realised where she had seen him before. Or rather, where she had heard him.

  “It was you!” she gasped, leaping to her feet. “You were the man Mr Kettleburn brought to Alexander’s bedroom!”

  Turner raised his hands in surrender. “Please hear me out,” he stammered. “I had good reason –”

  Daisy stepped slowly backwards, moving the protection of the sofa between herself and the man. “Was it you who set the fire in Lord Peyton’s house?” she asked. “Good heaven
s! You were trying to kill me!”

  “Nothing of the sort –”

  “Lord Peyton!” she screamed. Her stepfather gave a snort and rolled over to bury his face in the cushions. “Lord Peyton!”

  Both she and Mr Turner remained completely frozen, watching the slumbering lord for any further signs of life.

  A gargling snore emerged from deep in Lord Peyton’s throat. Mr Turner looked at Daisy in consternation.

  “Is he quite well?”

  Daisy flung up her hands. “He sleeps like the dead!”

  Mr Turner rose carefully to his feet, keeping his hands in full view. “I ought to take my leave.”

  Daisy ran to the door and slammed it, leaning against it and daring him with her eyes to try to remove her. “You will wait here until my butler has summoned the Bow Street Runners!”

  “Miss Morton, please listen to me! The fire was an accident – a complete accident!”

  “Am I to take the word of a man who makes a habit of breaking into other people’s houses?”

  “What other choice did I have?” Turner collapsed back onto the chair, his shoulders sagging. Daisy had never imagined a murdering housebreaker could look as pathetic as he did. “I did what I had to do. For my mother’s sake, never for mine!” He dropped his face into his hands and let out a sob. “When I think of the danger I put you in! I will never forgive myself, never!”

  Daisy eased herself away from the door. It did not appear that her arsonist thief was about to make a break for it. “Mr Turner, collect yourself. There is no need to cry. Nobody was hurt.”

  “But they very well could have been,” he said throatily. “And all because of my blasted incompetence. I was searching the bedrooms in Lord Peyton’s house for that cursed vase when I knocked a candle onto some bedsheets. I thought I had stamped the fire out, but I was in such haste that I must have left it smouldering. And now the vase is lost in the fire, and I will never be able to repay Lord Peyton for the damage!”