by Emma Kaye
“And helped to save them,” Worthington interrupted. “You therefore know how much Daisy could bring to you with her hand in marriage.”
Ben smirked. “Enough to know that my finances exceed your own. I have no need of your money.”
Lord Worthington’s jaw dropped open, and his eyes widened.
“I would never suggest an investment to a client I was not willing to participate in myself. I do not bandy my worth about, but my wealth is quite substantial. If you have a need to review my finances in order to understand that I can adequately provide for your daughter’s future, you shall do so.”
The viscount gathered himself, threw his shoulders back, and said, “That will not be necessary. I made my decision before we stepped out onto this terrace. This information about your wealth makes no difference to me.”
Ben’s heart sank. He’d convinced himself he wasn’t good enough for Daisy. That she deserved all the trappings of society, not just the wealth he could offer. Then the possibility of her marrying that bloody ass, Lord Webb, made him realize the love he would offer her was worth more than anything.
But, after finally deciding to fight for the woman he loved instead of against her, he’d failed in this most crucial test. Even with all his money, he couldn’t convince a man obsessed with material gain that he was good enough to marry his daughter.
He’d failed. And both he and Daisy would pay the price.
“Come, Daisy. We’re going home.”
Daisy took the spencer her father held out and shrugged into it as she followed her parents from the Marberry’s residence.
“Whatever is the matter? Why are we leaving in such a rush?” She’d seen Ben and her father head out to the terrace not half an hour ago. She hadn’t seen either man return. How had they slipped by her when she’d been watching the doors by which they’d left so intently?
“We are not leaving suddenly, Daisy,” her mother responded. “I asked your father to have the carriage brought round over an hour ago. I’m afraid I have developed quite a headache and wish to return home and lie down.”
“Daniel?”
“I informed him of our intent to leave. He wished to remain a while longer.” Her father helped his wife into the carriage first, then held a hand out for Daisy. “Enough questions.”
She settled into the seat next to her mother, forcing her father to take the seat opposite. Something was wrong. As the carriage began the journey back to their townhome, she tried valiantly to remain quiet. She didn’t last long at all.
“What happened with Mr. Chapman? I saw you two go outside.”
Her mother closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cushions.
She began to think her father was going to ignore her as well, when he sighed.
“He failed our test.”
She gasped and clasped a hand to the base of her throat. “He didn’t ask for my hand? What did he say to you then?”
“Oh, no. He did indeed ask for permission to court you.”
“We made a deal,” she exclaimed. “You said you would give him permission to marry me if he fought for me.”
“And I would have. His words were impassioned. He almost won me over. He loves you dearly.” Her father reached forward and took her hands between his own. “But he didn’t fight for you.”
Tears burned behind her eyelids. “I-I don’t understand.”
“I told him nothing he said could change my mind, that my decision was made before we stepped out onto that terrace.” He squeezed her hands. “And he accepted my decision.”
She dropped back against the seat and held her hands over her eyes. She didn’t want to cry in front of her parents, but she couldn’t stop the tears from coming. “Why did you do that? He came to you. He declared his love. That should have been enough.”
“No. If he wasn’t willing to stand up to your father,” her mother chimed in, her eyes still closed, head still back. “If he could accept ‘no’ as an answer, then he doesn’t love you as he should.” She opened her eyes and stared until Daisy met her gaze. “Love is worth fighting for, darling. If he’s not willing to fight for you now, what will he do for you five years from now? Ten?”
“But I love him, Mother. I can fight for both of us.”
“Oh, darling. I know you could.” She draped her arm across Daisy’s shoulders and squeezed. “And you deserve someone who will fight equally hard for you.”
The carriage jolted to a halt, forcing her to grab her mother to keep to her seat.
“Why has the carriage stopped?” her father asked, peering out the window. “We’re nowhere near home.”
The door yanked open and her father dropped back in his seat. His hand went to the pocket where he kept his pistol, but when he saw who had hijacked them, he sat back without a word.
“Ben!” Daisy exclaimed.
He towered over them, propped the door open with his shoulder, his foot braced against the top step. He held a horse’s reins in his other hand. The animal snorted and tossed its head, flanks heaving as if it had run a long distance. “Daisy.”
She grasped the hand he held out to her. “Ben. What are you doing?”
“I can’t let you go. Your father doesn’t approve of me. I am sorry for it.” He flicked a glance at her father, then returned his full attention to her. “Marry me anyway. I can provide for us. We can live anywhere you wish. I will fill our house with blank canvasses for you to create your extraordinary works of art. You can be ‘The Flower’ for as long as your heart desires. Sell, don’t sell. Whatever you desire will be yours. I will spend my life fighting to make you happy.”
Her mother gasped. “The Flower?”
“Not now, dear. It seems Mr. Chapman has decided our daughter is worth fighting for after all.”
Daisy couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face, nor did she want to. “I do believe he has. Just as I will always fight for him.”
The End
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Excerpt
Defying the Duke
Felicity Worthington took a deep breath before knocking at the weathered-gray servant’s entrance door. She’d never seen this part of the Duke of Marberry’s London townhouse in the eight years she’d known him. My how her life had changed.
She curtsied to the short, rotund woman who answered. “Morning, madam. I’m Mrs. Chapman,” she said, giving her sister-in-law’s name. She didn’t want Peter—she continued to think of him in this highly improper way, despite the change to their relationship—to know she was here after all. “I’m here to chalk the floors for the Christmas Ball tomorrow night.”
“Ah, yes. Her Grace informed me you would arrive this morning. I’m Mrs. Tanner, the cook. Please, enter.” She indicated Felicity should follow and led her down a rather narrow passage until they reached a bustling kitchen at the rear of the house. “Molly,” she called to a young woman tending the fire in a massive cast iron range that dominated the far wall. “Fetch Mrs. Hanniman. Tell her the artist is here for the ballroom floor.”
Molly wiped her sweating brow and dropped a curtsey before dashing up a narrow set of stairs at the far end of the room. Several pairs of eyes glanced curiously in Felicity’s direction before returning to the tasks at hand, which appeared to be preparing a variety of offerings for the morning meal. Felicity’s mouth watered at the delicious scent of freshly baked bread.
She welcomed the heat of the ovens after trudging through the snow-covered streets. With a little bit of luck, her shoes would dry by the time she had to make her way home. Good thing she’d had the forethought to carry an extra pair of shoes in her reticule. She switched into them now. “Is there someplace I might leave these to dry?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Tanner took the offered boots and placed them next to the oven where several other pai
rs rested. “Don’t tell me you walked?”
She waved a hand as if brushing off an inconvenience. “I’m not far,” she lied. Normally, she would have used the carriage to travel the distance from the Chapman’s London residence, but since Mr. Chapman had taken the carriage, she and Daisy, the real Mrs. Chapman, had been forced to walk. They’d been up since four to make sure they got there in time. It was half-past seven. She held her freezing fingers out to soak up the blazing heat from the fire. Regaining the feeling was an absolute necessity before she could begin her work. Both the official and unofficial.
A pleasant looking woman with dark brown hair liberally interspersed with gray entered the kitchen, followed by Molly, who rushed back to tending her fire.
“Mrs. Chapman?”
Felicity nodded.
“Follow me, please.”
They proceeded out of the kitchen, dodging servants scampering about their business. Likely getting ready for the next night. The Marberry Christmas Balls were infamous back in the day. It had been five years since the last and the ton was expecting to have the night of their lives. Over the past week, Felicity had overheard her former friends gushing about the event. While she threaded lace on ladies’ bonnets in the back room of Rockingham Milliners, the women of the ton shopped for the perfect accessories to brighten their wardrobes for the Christmas Ball.
She was confidant Peter’s mother would manage the event with grace. And hopefully, the duchess wouldn’t recognize her. It had been five years and they hadn’t parted on good terms, to put it mildly.
To help hide in plain sight, Felicity wore a gown ten years out of fashion and two sizes too big. A little padding around the waist and an extra set of clothes had the benefit of warmth as well as making her look larger than her normal self. A modest bonnet and dark rimmed spectacles completed her disguise.
To her benefit, a majority of the servants she once knew had been let loose over the past few years. The thought saddened her. Much as she believed Peter to be the cause of her current troubles, she had once loved him. Had circumstances been different, she would have been Her Grace, the Duchess of Marberry, rather than the Widow Worthington.
Defying the Duke
Coming Soon
Also by Emma Kaye
REGENCY ROMANCE
Wooing the Wallflower
Defying the Duke featuring The Duke’s Christmas Wish and The Widow’s Daring Plan
Exposing the Earl — Coming 2021
TIME TRAVEL ROMANCE
Time for Love
A woman finds much more than she bargained for when she travels through time to Regency England.
Destined for Love
Can a twenty-first century doctor find love in Regency England with a widowed viscount?
Echoes of the Past
Can a time traveling witch find love in present day Lobster Cove, Maine, or will her curse get in the way?
For You
A time traveler and an earl's widow find love in Regency London—but time may not be on their side.
Timing is Everything
Featuring Granting Her Wish, Losing Patience, and To Have and to Hold
Waffle Cone Magic — Coming Summer 2021
This Time Forever — Coming Soon
WITCHES OF HAVENPORT
Love Spells featuring In Her Dreams and Baby, It’s Cold Outside
Under Her Spell
The Ghost of You
On Her Own
Tricking the Beast
Time After Time
About Emma Kaye
EMMA KAYE is married to her high school sweetheart and has two beautiful kids that she spends an insane amount of time driving around central New Jersey. Before Scouts and musical theater entered her life, she decided to try writing one of those romances she loved to read and discovered a new passion. She has been writing ever since. Add in a playful puppy and an extremely patient cat and she’s living her own happily ever after while making her characters work hard to reach theirs.
For more information on Emma, please visit her online at
www.Emma-Kaye.com
[email protected]
Timeless Scribes Publishing LLC
Print ISBN-13: 978-1-945679-77-3
Digital ISBN-13: 978-1-945679-76-6
Wooing the Wallflower by Emma Kaye
Copyright © 2019 by Emma Kaye
Originally published in A Regency Christmas Proposal
Cover by Stardust Book Design
Edited by Deserie Comfort of Comfort Editing
Copy Edited by Stardust Book Design
All rights reserved.
Except for use in any review, no part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher, Timeless Scribes Publishing LLC, P.O. Box 112, Kenilworth, NJ 07033.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Timeless Scribes Publishing LLC.
www.TimelessScribes.com
