A Duke She Can't Refuse

by Gemma Blackwood

  “Love is not a fantasy,” said Jemima. “Don’t say you fooled yourself. Say rather that you believed in something. There is nothing to be ashamed of in that.”

  Daisy dabbed her eyes with her white-gloved wrist. “I am not ashamed,” she said. “I am pleased that I finally felt the love I always dreamed of. That is worth a little heartbreak.”

  “The next time you feel it, it will last,” Jemima assured her. “Of that, I am certain.”

  Daisy returned her smile, though she knew her eyes still betrayed her sadness.

  She could not bring herself to hope for a next time.

  Despite everything, deep in her heart, she had not yet relinquished the dream of the duke.

  “Jemima,” she said, “I think I know how I can begin to be happy again. But I will need your help.” She glanced up with a rueful smile. “Only you will be able to persuade my mother…”

  18

  If Alexander had been in a more normal frame of mind, he might have noticed that here and there about his private study, certain things were out of place.

  A candlestick had been nudged aside. A drawer left open. A certain letter, which he had kept close to hand since the day he wrote it, was missing.

  But Alexander’s mood was far from calm enough to take note of these small things. The next day would require him to make a speech in Parliament, a speech he had worked on carefully for some time, and which now seemed as useless and hateful as everything else he had attempted since breaking things off with Daisy.

  He cast aside the closely-written paper with a groan and leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples. The real pain was not in his head. His chest was afflicted by the sensation that a cannonball had barrelled through it, tearing a hole in his most vital organs.

  He had only himself to blame. He had known from the start that his feelings for Daisy could never lead to happiness. It had all been so wonderful, so tempting, that he had let things carry on for far too long. And now he was suffering the consequences.

  A sharp knock at the door sent him straightening his back and shuffling his papers as though he were hard at work. “Come in!”

  Selina was dressed for visiting, a large yellow bonnet hanging from one hand. Alexander had never been an expert on women’s clothing, but he supposed that, if Selina wore it, it was the fashion.

  “I won’t disturb you long,” she said, stopping by the mirror to set the hat on her head and tilt it to the perfect angle. “I am taking Anthea out visiting. Isobel is sitting with Aunt Ursula, and Edith has gone for a walk, so the house should be quiet for you.”

  “Good. Good.” Alexander turned over a sheet of paper that he had not read. He glanced up to find Selina watching him too closely for comfort. “Did you need something from me?”

  Selina pursed her lips and tapped her hand against her side. “Just a moment of your time, if you can spare it.”

  “Always.” Alexander gestured to the two armchairs by the fire. Selina took off her hat again and sat down, waiting to begin until he was settled opposite her.

  “Edith is out walking,” she said, “but I suspect she has a particular destination in mind for her exercise. I will ask her maid to confirm it when they return, but I am convinced that she has gone to visit Daisy Morton.”

  Alexander mastered the flinch of pain before it had half-crossed his face. “She has no need to visit Miss Morton in secret. I never wanted to cause a rift between them.”

  Selina leaned forward, stretching a hand out to touch his arm. “You and I are so alike,” she said. “Neither of us likes to admit to weakness.”

  Alexander smiled ruefully. “Father was the same, wasn’t he?”

  “Do you remember what our mother used to say about it?”

  Alexander searched the dim and distant memories of his mother for the saying Selina meant. After sixteen years he was left with so little of her. The impression of warm arms around him, the flash of a smile and the chime of laughter. Her kindness. Her even temper. The smell of lilac perfume. “Remind me.”

  Selina cocked her head to one side, her eyes lost in the past. “Perhaps you were too young. Or perhaps she didn’t think it an important lesson for a man. Even then, I think she was always aware of the possibility that you might someday be a duke. And soft hearts are not encouraged in great men.”

  Alexander opened his mouth to protest that last epithet, but Selina silenced him with a quick shake of her head. “She used to say a loving heart is your greatest strength. And I believe she was right.”

  “You have certainly taken her words to heart.”

  “Do you know, I think I have.” Selina nodded gravely. “I love you and our sisters so very fiercely that I would walk through fire for any of you. And, of course, I loved Jeffrey. I loved him with such a passion that the rest of the world seemed inconsequential beside it. A different kind of love, but every bit as important. Jeffrey was as much family to me as you are now.” The distant dreaminess fell from her eyes in an instant. She fixed Alexander with a penetrating stare. “And that is why I am confident that, if he were here in my place, he would call you an idiot.”

  “What?”

  “I have known love, Alexander. Real, hot-blooded, heedless love. Do you think that I would have given Jeffrey up for anything in the world? His friendship for you did not induce him to give me up, even for a moment.” She paused to let her words sink in. “And yet you have abandoned Daisy for my sake, without stopping to think whether I ever asked you to. The only conclusion I can draw is that you never loved her, or that you are an idiot. Which is it to be?”

  Irrational anger threatened to turn Alexander’s response into a shout. It was unfair to direct his rage at Selina. She was not the cause of his hurt. But at that moment he felt like a wounded animal trapped in a corner by the hounds, and he could not keep the pain from his voice. “Jeffrey might well call me an idiot, and he would be right. But not for the reasons you mean. My feelings for Daisy…” He sprang up from his chair, his fists squeezing tight around empty air, a terrible wrenching sensation in his chest. “My feelings for Daisy are immaterial. I am the Duke of Loxwell. I have a duty to behave as the title demands. That means that I am bound to do what is morally right, even when I can hardly bear it.”

  “Nonsense! There are plenty of dukes who behave very badly indeed. No, you cannot make me believe that it is your sense of decency that drives this mad self-deprivation.” Selina rose to her feet, as slow and graceful as ever, and placed a hand on his shoulder. She did not have half his strength, but she turned him to face her as inexorably as though her arm was a steel bar. “You are afraid.”

  “Ridiculous.”

  “Don’t argue with me. I have known love, and I know how vulnerable it makes you. You have spent a lifetime constructing the perfect armour. A stern face, an impeccable reputation, an honourable name. You let nobody get at the heart of you. Not even me. And I am older than you, Alex, and often a great deal wiser. You never had to protect me. All this time, you have only been concerned with protecting yourself.

  “I remember your face the day old Loxwell died. You only let it show for a moment – you have made yourself the master of hiding what you feel – but you were terrified. And no one has ever guessed it but me. You made sure of that. Your armour protected you.

  “But no armour can keep out love. Daisy loves you, and you love her, and we learnt as children that those we love can leave us. Love is agony. Love is madness. Love is terror.” Her fingers tightened on his shoulder, her eyes bright and fierce. “But giving it up is the most cowardly, immoral, indecent thing you can do.”

  Alexander opened his dry mouth and closed it again.

  He had not seen tears in Selina’s eyes for years, but they were shining there now.

  “If you really want to atone for the pain you once caused me, you must conquer this fear.” Selina’s voice lowered to a whisper. “My greatest wish is to see my family happy. You can’t bring Jeffrey back to me. But you can give me that.”<
br />
  “Selina!” Anthea’s voice called from the hallway. “I am ready! Shall we go?”

  Selina did not move. She waited, her gaze steady, while Alexander marshalled his response.

  “It is too late,” he said. “Daisy would be a fool to take me back. I’ve…” He swallowed heavily. “I’ve hurt her. Why should she trust me again now?”

  “Love makes fools of us all,” Selina quoted, with a wry smile. “Take the risk, Alex. Do it for me.” She put her arms around Alexander and brushed a light kiss on his cheek. “Do it for yourself, and Daisy too.”

  He pressed her close for a moment longer, as Anthea called her name again from outside. “I will. I promise.”

  Selina left smiling. Alexander avoided meeting his own guilt-ridden eyes in the mirror as he went back to his desk.

  He had never before made a promise he was so uncertain he could keep.

  19

  The House of Lords was never less than raucous, and the morning of Alexander’s speech on the Corn Laws was no exception. The intricate social networks connecting the country’s most powerful men were the fulcrum on which the world turned, and the air was full of cries of welcome, jovial insults, and invitations to hunt or to dine or to dance.

  As Duke of Loxwell, Alexander was invariably in high demand. Though he was extremely surprised to see that one of the men pushing forward for his attention was Ralph Morton, Baron Northmere.

  Ralph’s usually cheerful face was fixed in a business-like mask. Although there were many men present who technically outranked him, he had such an air of natural authority that the greater lords quickly parted ways to allow him access to Alexander.

  Ralph extended his hand and shook Alexander’s, not warmly, but firmly enough. “Good morning, Duke. Let me assure you of my support in this matter of the Corn Laws.”

  “Thank you, Northmere.” Alexander could only imagine what it cost Ralph to publicly support the man who had privately thrown over his sister. He could only imagine his own feelings if anyone should leave Anthea, Isobel, or Edith broken-hearted.

  As he looked into Ralph’s eyes, he saw some of the same steady determination he so admired in Daisy. The flickers of family resemblance sent painful twinges through his heart.

  He had nothing but respect for the way Ralph had behaved towards him throughout the entire situation. If he managed to win Daisy back – and, at the moment, he still had no idea how he would manage that – he would be proud to call Ralph his brother.

  But there was no possibility of saying any of that aloud. Especially considering there might be only the narrowest thread of inner strength restraining Ralph from swapping their handshake for a swift punch to the jaw.

  To his surprise, Ralph did not immediately re-join his friends when they dropped each other’s hands, but instead drew a little closer. “May I speak with you privately? I have something of yours that needs returning. A personal item.”

  The necklace. It could only be his mother’s necklace. The hole in Alexander’s heart tore open a little wider. He imagined Daisy looking in the mirror one final time at the diamonds gleaming on her collarbone. Sitting with tears brimming in her eyes as her maid unclipped it from her neck. Placing it back in the box, closing the lid. Did her hand linger there a moment before she sent it away?

  No, Daisy was not so sentimental. Once her decision was made, she would have followed it through without a moment’s regret. She was so resolute.

  “I gave her nothing that needs returning.” Not his jewels, not his secrets, not his heart.

  An awkward smile lifted the corner of Ralph’s mouth. “Ah. Trust me, Duke, you will be glad to have this back.”

  Alexander nodded to the gentlemen gathered around them and extricated himself from the crowd, all too aware that several curious eyes were following him and the baron.

  When they were standing aside, Ralph reached inside his coat to reveal not a jewellery box, but a letter. He glanced over his shoulder and slipped it into Alexander’s hand.

  “My sister asked me to return this to you.”

  Alexander frowned and tried to pass it back. “There is some mistake. I have not sent any letter –”

  Ralph cleared his throat. “I don’t believe you did. But apparently you wrote one. It found its way into Daisy’s hands – she would not tell me how – and she asked me to return it to you. Unread.”

  Alexander scanned the name written on the letter.

  Daisy. That was all. In his handwriting.

  The icy hand of confusion and embarrassment trailed its fingers down his spine. He knew exactly what that letter said.

  “How?”

  “I told you the truth when I said she would not tell me. But she was very insistent that I also make it clear that she did not read it.” Ralph raised an eyebrow. “Though I am afraid that I can guess at its contents. Take a moment to steady your nerves before we go back inside.”

  Alexander swallowed heavily, knowing that his every thought could not be more clearly written on his face. His carefully cultivated composure was utterly destroyed.

  “Why didn’t she read it?” There was a hoarse note in the question which Ralph tactfully ignored.

  “I cannot say. Perhaps she did not see a need to stir things up again now that everything is at an end between you. Especially since there is no chance of a reconciliation.”

  “What do you mean?” Alexander clenched his fist and pressed it to his forehead. “Northmere, there’s no use hiding what a fool I’ve been. You must know it as well as I do. Tell me, if I were to go to Daisy –”

  Ralph held up a hand. “I would never speak on my sister’s behalf. But you are too late, Loxwell. Daisy is gone.”

  “Gone? Gone where?”

  Ralph frowned. “I thought you knew. Daisy is joining Lord and Lady Peyton on their trip to Europe. Their ship leaves for Lisbon today.”

  Everything froze. Time, space, the blood in Alexander’s veins.

  “Lisbon?”

  Ralph cocked his head to one side and gave Alexander a look of such judicious appraisal that he felt he had been turned inside out, inspected from every angle, and wrung like a washcloth.

  One day, whispered a faint voice at the back of Alexander’s mind, he would give another man the same look himself. Four young men, with any luck, shortly before giving them permission to propose to his sisters.

  Ralph nodded once, apparently reaching a conclusion, and checked his pocket watch. “They will not yet be on board. If you leave now, you should find them at St Katharine Docks.” He narrowed his eyes. “But you had better have something truly excellent to say for yourself when you get there.”

  Alexander gripped the letter. “Believe me, I have it.” He seized Ralph’s arm and dragged him back into the hall, waving his clerk down urgently.

  “Loxwell!” Ralph protested, letting himself be led with a bemused expression. “You are going the wrong way!”

  Alexander seized the closely-written papers from the clerk’s hands and shoved them towards Ralph. “My speech. On the Corn Laws. You must make it for me.”

  Ralph ran his eyes over the paper and let out a low whistle. “Really, I don’t think –”

  “There’s no time to argue.” Alexander took Ralph’s hand and thrust the speech into it. “I’m sure you’ll be wonderful.”

  Ralph cocked an eyebrow. “Very well. But don’t expect any further wedding gifts. Assuming she accepts you.”

  Alexander grinned. “Is that your blessing?”

  “That’s my permission, which is more than you deserve. You can come back and ask for my blessing if Daisy leaves your head on your shoulders.” He gave Alexander a light thwack on the arm with the speech. “Don’t waste any more time.”

  That was a piece of advice Alexander gladly took.

  The Thames at midday was a slow-moving confusion of masts, sails, rippling wakes and shouting sailors. Daisy leaned against the rail at the edge of the lower deck and watched the moored ships pass slowly by as t
he Pride of London negotiated the overcrowded waters. Progress was painfully slow. And somehow, at the same time, it was much too fast.

  Daisy looked down at the murky water carved into furrows by the side of the ship. What had she been expecting, really? Alexander charging down to the docks atop a white stallion, ready to whisk her off her feet and save her from…

  From an exciting and very welcome pleasure trip to southern Europe. To which she was looking forward immensely.

  It was not as if she had any further hopes for the Season, after all. She had already won a duke and lost him. Only a churl could ask for more.

  Daisy closed her eyes and permitted herself one last moment of longing for all she was leaving behind. One final daydream of Alexander’s grey eyes. One final sigh over the warmth of his lips on hers.

  One second of regret, and then the rest of her life to look forward to.

  “My word!” gasped the lady who had been fatuously waving a white handkerchief at Daisy’s side. “Isn’t that the Duke of Loxwell?”

  Daisy’s eyes flew open. She knew she had a vivid imagination, but this was a little much.

  “Daisy!” shrieked Lady Peyton, flinging her hands up from the rail on Daisy’s right and collapsing into Lord Peyton’s patient arms. “Look!”

  Daisy was looking.

  She had an inkling she might have gone mad, for she could not possibly be seeing what she was seeing, but she could not tear her eyes away.

  A wherry had pulled dangerously close to the Pride of London, rocking in the waves of its slow passage. The wherryman was managing the oars with an expression that suggested he had been paid a great deal of money for his trouble.

  At the front of the boat, standing upright despite the unsteady footing, was Alexander.

  Daisy blinked, scrunching her eyes up tight, and opened them slowly.

  He was still there.

  “Good morning, Miss Morton!”