A Fragile Chain of Daisies: Flowers of the Aristocracy (Untamed Regency Book 4)

by Jackie Williams

  And then, just as she seemed to have caught her breath, her brother sent her a letter. As soon as she recognized his handwriting on the envelope, she knew something momentous had occurred. Lucas never wrote unless his news was of great consequence. And in truth, it was!

  He had married! None other than the very lovely Angelique Lancer. At first she had wondered if the letter was a joke. Wasn’t Lucas’ best friend Pierce meant to marry the woman? Clearly, because there had been an announcement in the paper. An announcement that had sent Daisy into a crushing cascade of selfish, bitter tears, and caused her to send Pierce a letter of her own, begging him to reconsider the match.

  The heat of embarrassment flushed her cheeks even now as she recalled her selfish words. Hadn’t Pierce the right to find a wife? He wasn’t hers to advise, to admonish, or to beg. Perhaps the Pierce she had once known had changed. Maybe he was no longer the daredevil with a mischievous smile, but he could still marry and be happy. Raise a family and have heirs of his own.

  But as the years passed and he remained single, she secretly hoped that he would never take a wife. Not that he would ever be available to her. She was a married woman. And there was another slight problem. Pierce didn’t love her. Couldn’t ever have done, whatever her stupid, love sick heart had wanted to believe, or he would have asked for her hand well before Robert had proposed.

  But something had clearly gone awry with his engagement to Angelique, because Angelique was apparently now Lucas’ bride. A whirlwind romance and a wedding by special licence in the chapel at Lucas’ very own country home. Leaving Pierce still a single man!

  Daisy had almost fainted at the wave of sheer relief that had crashed over her and her heart had soared again. And now, though she hadn’t wished it, with Robert dead, there was the faintest glimmer of hope.

  Her stomach suddenly rolled and she pressed her hand against her throat as guilt filled her. What was she thinking! How could she even consider another man while her husband lay barely cold in his grave?

  But regardless of the impropriety, her brother’s letter had been so startling that she hardly had time to arrange her features over the breakfast table and cover her delight. She couldn’t stop thinking of the news and had to read Lucas’ missive several more times before she could believe it was the truth.

  Pierce Trenchard hadn’t married the lovely Angelique Lancer! Though there was nothing she could do to make the man love her, Daisy had wanted to leap for joy. Instead she had kept her feelings to herself and her face down, apparently too overcome with the death of her husband to share Lucas’ obvious delight. Regardless of his happy news or of her own roiling emotions, Robert’s murderer had to be found.

  And her secret? Well, it was clearly a secret no more. Robert’s propensity to open his mouth, and tell his mother everything, had clearly seen to that. But while Daisy might wish that he had been more circumspect, at least his indiscretion had given her an excuse to leave town. Everyone would understand.

  She had rolled her eyes behind her black veil as she braved the sympathetic glances and the whispers behind the fans. Did everyone really think she was so weak as to need to depart their London home? Clearly, for she now sat cloistering herself in their country estate, wasting her days running something that may no longer even be hers.

  Pressing her fingers to her aching temples, she thought of the pile of solicitors letters that lay as yet unanswered on Robert’s study desk. So many questions. Dates to remember. Too many things on her mind. But she would have to answer them soon.

  Which brought her thoughts to the other letters. Those of a far more sensitive nature that she would have to refer to if she were to answer the questions the solicitors had asked her. She slid open her dresser drawer and checked on the whereabouts of her key. The one Robert had told her about on his deathbed. It now lay safely beneath a small pile of handkerchiefs in her own drawer, and she breathed a sigh of relief as her fingertips touched the cold metal.

  She had wondered if she shouldn’t bring the letters to her own room, but then decided that they would stand out more if they were found. In the study they lay in a locked drawer looking insignificant with a stack of others. She only hoped they would stay that way. Too many people would be hurt, ruined, if they ever came to light. That it had come to this...this subterfuge, kept her awake at night. It had all seemed so wonderful in the beginning. So perfect. How wrong could one be?

  If only Robert had told her the truth from the start, she wouldn’t be in this predicament now. But it wasn’t as if she could get out of it once the marriage vows had been spoken. Not without a scandal of outrageous proportions, and even though she didn’t much care for her position in society, her mother, father, and Lucas would all be affected. Slighted. Sullied by association, though none of it would have been their fault.

  Could she excuse her husband’s behaviour? She could see why he had done it. Even had a little sympathy for the man. Robert hadn’t been a bad person, not evil or mean, but she realised her mistake in marrying him within days. What a fool she had been, swept away with his gallantry while caught up in the heady excitement of having an ardent admirer. Someone who actually wanted to marry her. At last. As her mother had kept reminding her.

  Her lip trembled as she thought of Pierce, the only man she had ever loved. Why hadn’t he loved her back? She had thought it a foregone conclusion. He may have been her brother’s friend, but he had always been there for her, had rescued her time and time again. She recalled the fear written deep in his dark brown eyes as he pulled her dripping and choking from the lake. And he had clearly been petrified the one time she had ridden her father’s huge hunter. The scolding he gave her, when he was eventually able to catch up and stop the animal’s headlong gallop towards the old quarry, still made her cheeks flush. She had deserved every word of his furious censure, but she had gloried in the warmth of his eventual, and very relieved hug.

  The months he spent on his grand tour had been pure torture. The waiting, the longing. Every letter he sent she had kept, every word more precious than the diamonds she occasionally wore at her neck. She had longed for his return home, was sure that he had missed her as much. And on her eighteenth birthday she had been certain he would propose. She had it all worked out. He would ask her for the first dance, would take hold of her hand, and before anyone else could join them on the ballroom floor, would fall upon bended knee.

  But though she willed it with every fibre of her being, he had remained stubbornly with his back against the wall, his friendly smile only slipping slightly when she danced with Brendon, or Algernon, or Bertie. She had thought the slight crease along his brow might hint of jealousy, but as the night wore on and her dance card filled with names other than his, her high hopes diminished. And by the time her brother carried her to her room, her brain full of champagne bubbles and her heart filled with ashes, she knew.

  Lucas had scoffed gently as her head lolled against his shoulder and she confessed her love for his friend. Didn’t she realize? Pierce’s smiles had only ever been of friendship. Natural, brotherly feelings for her, as the man had no sister of his own.

  Brotherly! Mortification had struck her. The last thing Daisy wanted Pierce to feel was brotherly. Her heart shrivelled in her chest. It wasn’t as if she had ever tried to cover her feelings. How stupid she must have looked, fawning for years over a man who had no interest in her. How ridiculous Pierce must have thought her. With her pride in tatters, and the years passing rapidly, it was no wonder she had married the first man to ask.

  Daisy drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. If only she knew then what she did now. But she hadn’t, and there was no point in going over the past. As much as she might want to, she couldn’t change it. Robert had his reasons for wanting a wife and, with her encouragement, had acted upon them. She didn’t blame him. She had been young, headstrong, determined to find love.

  A tear leaked from her eye as genuine sadness filled her. Robert had suffered an excruciating deat
h. And whatever their reasons for marriage, they had lived together for three years. He had protected and cherished her in his own, unconventional way.

  And now it was her turn to support and defend him even after his death, though it wasn’t going to be easy with his mother meddling where she had no business. The dratted woman was more of a problem than Daisy had ever suspected. Jane Benedict was an interfering busybody who would cause more harm than good. If only the woman could move on without further snooping, there might still be some good to come out of this ghastly affair.

  Which reminded Daisy that she still had to answer her latest and most urgent correspondence.

  Satisfied with her coiffeur, she took a closer look at her reflection in her mirror. Though he wasn’t a difficult man, the three years spent with Robert had taken their toll. There were more lines about her eyes than there should have been. And not all of laughter and happiness.

  Regrets filled her again. So many that her breath left her body and had her gasping for air. She needed to ride, to feel the wind in her hair. Freedom! It was so close she could almost reach out and touch it. And yet it remained so far. She had things to do that didn’t include riding. But another day...

  Emotions tumbled through her, fuelling her long hidden fiery spirit. She stood quickly, walked to her wardrobe, and took out a front fastening mourning dress while thanking the heavens that she’d the foresight to order something she could put on by herself. The black drained her, but she had little choice if she wanted to respect her dead husband. And at least the loose design gave her a decent excuse to forego wearing a corset. The material draped flatteringly over her stomach. No one would be able to tell what she was hiding yet, though with her mother in law’s help, rumours had already spread.

  Drat and blast the woman! Why couldn’t she have kept her mouth shut? But it had been too much to ask. Robert had given her news that she was keen to impart to all of her friends. Including Daisy’s own mother, who had written a disappointed note that still needed answering, asking why she had to find out the information from none other than Pierce’s mother, Lady Dorothea Trenchard, rather than from her own daughter.

  Daisy had cursed the rumour mill all over again. Cursed and despaired. Pierce would surely know by now, but what did he think? Did he think of her at all? Surely he must do. The vision of his desolate and subsequent outraged expression as he stared up at the windows of her London residence, would haunt her forever if she couldn’t set things straight with the man.

  But how could she do that if she couldn’t find him. Even pleading with her brother Lucas to locate his best friend had come to no good. She remembered his pacing, his obvious concern, the whispered words, as if her walls had ears.

  ‘You cannot seriously think that I would try to find him? For God’s sake Daisy, don’t you understand? They are suggesting he as good as murdered your husband. It is well known that I am his best friend. And it is also well known that he left Brutus with me. He clearly didn’t want anyone recognizing the horse that just won the race your husband was injured in. But given all that, don’t you see that I will probably be followed, my movements and who I meet observed, and Pierce might be caught and hanged for a crime you and I both know he didn’t commit. Do you want that to happen?’

  Of course she didn’t. The question was ridiculous. But she couldn’t bear the thought of Pierce thinking ill of her. Especially after the letters she had sent him. What a fool she had been to put him in such danger. She had to make this right. But how? She swallowed hard and blinked back the frustrated tears that once again threatened to overcome her.

  A soft knock at the door had her turning quickly. Mary came in with a breakfast tray, and a furrowed brow as she saw her mistress up and already dressed.

  “If you are going to make a habit of rising before the crack of dawn every day, I might as well not bring your breakfast up anymore.” She harrumphed and the teacup rattled in its saucer as she placed the tray on the dresser rather too firmly.

  Daisy smiled apologetically at the older woman.

  “Sorry, I just couldn’t lie in bed any longer.” She had always been an early riser, but recently sleep seemed to evade her entirely.

  Mary harrumphed once again.

  “I never heard anything like it. Ladies in your condition, and circumstances,” she nodded sagely. “Usually lie about all day and let their staff wait upon them. As the Dowager Duchess reminded me only a few weeks ago, that’s what we are paid for. But not you. You have to be different from everyone else. Leaping up before the cock crows and going for long walks in the countryside at the crack of dawn, indeed! I’ll have to ask one of the maids to accompany you or I won’t hear the last of it from her Grace.”

  Daisy took a sip from the teacup Mary presented her.

  “You could always not tell her.” Daisy ignored Mary’s shocked intake of breath. “For goodness sake, you don’t need to report my every move to her. I’ve been asked not to ride, and to keep the peace I have agreed, but I am not ill or an invalid. You can at least let me walk. Alone. It has been a dreadful few weeks. I need some fresh air and time to myself.” Suspecting that her mother in law had sent her staff instructions on what their mistress could and could not do, Daisy fought the impending annoyance that swept through her. Jane Benedict was an interfering witch who had ruled Daisy’s life for far too long. It had to stop. She had to take back control.

  Mary made little ‘tsking’ noises as she busied herself about the bedroom. Not that there was much to be busy about. Daisy had already made her bed, folded her nightgown, and drawn back the drapes. The maid plumped an already plump pillow.

  “Time to yourself? I am not sure that is wise. I’m not even sure it was a good idea to leave town. His Grace’s demise has been a terrible shock, my Lady, and you should be surrounding yourself with love and support from family and friends. The last thing you need is walking about alone in this isolated old place.” She flung an arm towards the windows and beyond. The estate stretched out into the distance. She dropped her arm back to her side as she spoke again. “Besides you don’t have time for walking this morning. You have people to attend to. Musgrave is hovering below and clearly wants a word, and Bess says that Andrews is asking for an audience, though with the stables out of bounds to you, I really don’t know what he needs to see you for.”

  Daisy drank the last of her tea and ignored the crumpets. Her maid might have meant well but the admonishments stung and Daisy meant to ignore them. It was time to assert the authority she was born with. She would go for a walk when and wherever she so desired.

  But only after seeing what her staff wanted. Turning to the door, she spoke over her shoulder.

  “I’ll see Musgrave now. I know he had written several letters and was hoping to find another position quickly. I certainly have no need of him here. Perhaps he has found a new job already.” She said hopefully as she spoke of her husband’s valet who had only stayed on to help sort out the Duke’s personal effects.

  Daisy wouldn’t be sorry to see the man go. Alternating between devastated, shocked, and ultimately angry at the loss of his job, the man had become another thorn in her side. Robert had gone. There was no longer a position for a valet. Surely the man could see that. And it wasn’t as if she was driving him out of the place before he had anywhere to go. No, she thought that she had been entirely reasonable, and she couldn’t understand his apparent resentment of her. But there was little she could do if he wanted to keep up his taciturn humour. It wasn’t as if he had ever been very friendly. He had hardly spoken to her while Robert was alive, and made even less of an effort now he was dead.

  Mary drew her finger along the top of the dresser mirror and frowned as she inspected the tip for dust. Apparently satisfied of the frame’s cleanliness, she spoke again.

  “He did look a little happier than usual so perhaps you are right. It is about time he was gone anyway. Mrs. Graves had his Grace’s formal wear stored in the attic last week. There’s only his day
things to redistribute now.”

  Daisy nodded. She had decided to keep Robert’s evening attire for the time being. The man had been tall and reasonably slim and the jackets and trousers very tightly fitting. She doubted they would be suitable for anyone else. And it wasn’t as if she could give them to any of the staff to wear, or hand out amongst the villagers. She almost giggled at the thought of Mr. Davis, the local pig farmer, herding his beasts while wearing a gold trimmed, deep purple, velvet dinner jacket. But the fabrics could possibly be salvaged, cut down, and reused. Fortunately Robert’s day wear had been of a more comfortable fit. With a little adjustment, someone might be grateful for the clothes.

  “Perhaps Andrews can help with doling out the shirts and breeches. He’ll know who they might suit far better than I. Robert was rather tall and slim.” The only two people she could immediately think of a similar height were her brother and his best friend, but they were far more strapping than her husband had been. Not that either of them needed any cast offs. Both could well afford their own tailors. “I’ll take a walk back to the stables with Andrews and see if he will make enquiries. I can kill two birds with one stone as I haven’t seen Bernadette in weeks and she’ll be missing me. And her regular exercise.” She held up her hand as Mary opened her mouth. “Don’t worry, I promise I won’t ride her, or any other animal, but you cannot stop me from seeing them.”

  Mary sighed, clearly giving in to her mistress’ authority.

  “Very well. And I won’t mention it to the Dowager Duchess, but that doesn’t mean that one of the other staff won’t. Mrs. Graves sends a weekly account of all goings on here at the estate. Has done for over thirty years.”

  Daisy rolled her eyes.

  “It’s a pity that so many of my staff appear to be more loyal to my mother in law than they are to me. Robert was the head of the household, not his mother. And while he may be dead, I am still his wife. Until the solicitor says anything different, until the day I am thrown out on my ear, I have more right than any to say what goes on around here. In fact, I am taking back charge.” She squared her shoulders and stood a little taller. “Mary, I forbid you, Mrs. Graves, or any other of MY staff to contact the Duchess without my express wishes. If I discover any breach of this rule, the person breaking it can consider themselves relieved of their position without references.” Mary looked stricken at her words, and Daisy realized that it must be the first time for years that she had taken any sort of control. Good grief! When had she become so weak and downtrodden? How had she allowed so many to trample on her spirit? She didn’t know or care, but now she had begun to show a little backbone, it was time to stand her ground.