She nodded and took his proffered arm, and he led her onto the dance floor, ensuring he didn’t use her as a crutch but rather escorted her as a man should.
Then he turned, held out his left hand to clasp her right, fitted his right hand around her waist, and looked down to meet her aquamarine eyes. And he nearly fell over.
For nothing in his life had ever felt so right before.
9
Daisy’s breath hitched in her throat as Mr. Hawke stared down at her, seemingly as incapable of moving as she. On the outskirts of her mind, she knew they must begin moving or would soon become the centerpiece of this dance. And yet…
She was caught. Caught in his gaze, in his embrace, in her own thoughts and desires created by his very touch. Somewhere deep within the recesses of her mind, Daisy was aware that this was ridiculous — this man was pompous, arrogant, and altogether far too sure of himself. Not a man to whom she should be attracted. Not a man with whom she should be enjoying this non-dance. And certainly not a man she should have any feelings for besides disdain.
But none of those thoughts could overcome the warmth his touch sent through her limbs to her very core. She couldn’t have explained it if she tried, but there was something about Mr. Nathaniel Hawke at this moment that reached beyond the words they had exchanged and spoke to a part of her deep within. Never before had Daisy felt such an instant attraction to a man. And she never wanted to again, for she had no idea how she was supposed to respond.
He regained his wits first, which Daisy only noticed because he began to sway back and forth in time with the music, gently moving her along with him. She shook her head to clear the spell from it as she willed herself to move out of her own thoughts and return to the ballroom, her body thankfully responding on its own to his motions.
Once she began to move, he led her around the floor in a modified waltz, one with an odd pattern in which he didn’t quite step, but shuffled along the floor. His lips began to curl up ever so slightly, and she raised her eyebrows at him.
“Enjoying yourself?” she asked, and he nodded.
“Actually, I am,” he said with a slight bit of incredulity. “Not long ago I was wondering if I would ever be able to dance again. I may never return to my former elegance, but it seems that I must not be making too much a fool of myself, or I am certain you would have left me alone on the floor by now.”
“I would never do such a thing,” she said, shaking her head, and he slightly started, his widening eyes betraying his surprise at her remark.
“Truly,” she insisted. “If I so desperately did not want to be embarrassed in front of these people then I never would have come in the first place. I do hope your opinion of me is not so low that you think I would leave a man alone in the middle of the dance floor, especially in a place where he is a stranger to most.”
“That is… kind of you,” he said, though Daisy could tell he was confused.
“You do not know me,” she said quietly. “I realize that perhaps I have been rude to you, and I apologize for that. But please know I am not as horrid as you may think.”
“I never thought you horrid,” he said in an equally soft tone, though his lips then really lifted. “Annoying, yes.”
If both her hands hadn’t already been occupied, she would have playfully slapped him, but as it was, she could only part her lips and shake her head at him to show her disdain. And drat it all, if the corners of her mouth didn’t begin to curl up into a smile, leaving the two of them to dance around the floor grinning at one another like fools.
What was this man doing to her?
They remained silent for the remainder of the waltz, which passed much quicker than most dances in which Daisy partook. The odd time when she glanced about her, she noticed that there were more than a few interested gazes directed their way — she knew many would be due to Mr. Hawke’s unfamiliarity with the lot of them as well as the mysterious nature of his background. But then there were those who were also interested in her, knowing what they did of her previous relationship with Lord Mansel and the fact that Mr. Hawke had not only practically escorted her here, but had taken her onto the dance floor soon upon their arrival.
It hadn’t even crossed her mind that anyone would care that he walked — or danced — with a slight limp, until he said as much to her.
When the music of the waltz faded, Mr. Hawke held out an arm and began to slowly lead her off the dance floor, back toward her family. Her sisters were watching her expectantly, and Millie looked more than enthusiastic at the fact that Daisy had taken on the dance floor and all of the spectators. Her concentration was broken when Mr. Hawke nearly stumbled, and she turned to look at him with some consternation.
“Are you all right?” she asked, worried at how pale his face suddenly was.
“I am perfectly fine,” he said, though he very clearly was not.
“It’s your leg, isn’t it?” she asked before they came within earshot of her family. “The dancing was too much for it.”
“If I can’t bloody well dance, then how I am supposed to do anything of any consequence at all?” he asked, and Daisy was taken aback by the frustration within his voice.
“I realize you are in pain and likely suffering renewed disappointment regarding your reduced mobility, but there is no need to be surly,” she said matter-of-factly, and he halted for a moment, seemingly taken aback by her calm admonishment.
“I apologize,” he said, surprising her. Mr. Hawke did not seem to be a man who would ever be sorry for anything. Guilt flashed across his face for a moment. “I suppose you are right. I am used to being a man of action, who relies on his body as much as his brain. Now everything has changed, and I am not handling it as well as I should.”
“I am sure that you will learn to adjust to your set of circumstances,” she said. “I’m actually not sure you will have much of a choice, so I would highly recommend it as the best option.”
They had reached the side of the dance floor once more, and she looked around her for a moment before turning a shrewd gaze back upon him.
“Come, sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“Stop being stubborn. There are plenty of chairs in the corner. You can rest for a minute. Do not forget we will have a long walk home later tonight. Fortunately, you have some time to recover.”
A look of panic crossed his face, for he had obviously forgotten their mode of transportation.
“It’s your own fault,” she admonished him. “Had you not been so stubborn, you could have ridden one of Papa’s horses. Why did you not bring one of your own, anyway?”
“I could not ride well at the time of my arrival.”
Once more he evaded conversation regarding anything about him before he had appeared at their inn. Daisy sighed. “I would suggest you borrow a horse from Lord Mansel, but I would be loath to ask him of anything. Even if we had no history between the two of us, asking a favor of a man such as him can only lead to him feeling that we should be even further indebted to him, as our wonderful, benevolent lord.”
“When you say, ‘a man such as him,’” Mr. Hawke said, “Are you referring to his character?”
“His character, his title, does it matter? In my experience, Mr. Hawke, it is all the same.”
Beside her, he stiffened in the chair he had just assumed. “I’m not sure that’s fair.”
“No?” she asked, rounding to stare at him. “When you were in the army, Mr. Hawke, did those within noble families receive the best positions, the titles, the very command?”
He looked down to the floor for a moment. “At times.”
“At times? All of the time. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I do not suppose you are.”
“Exactly. And didn’t that irk you? Were there not men within the army, perhaps men such as yourself, who would have been far better qualified but were not born of the proper rank?”
“Some, yes,” he conceded, but then he continued. “I do have to say, h
owever, Miss Tavners, that often those men you disdain have received an education that allows them to take on roles of command. There are many other men with the army who cannot read, who would not have the appropriate knowledge of history nor of politics to strategize.”
“That is true of many,” she said, “Though not all. What of you, Mr. Hawke?”
“I am… I have been fortunate,” he said, and now wouldn’t meet her gaze at all. Despite the fact that he obviously no longer wanted to speak of this, Daisy was once again perturbed. Why wouldn’t he tell her anything about himself? She had already been curious before, but the closer she came to him, the more she wanted to know, and yet he continued to pull away from her.
“Who are you, Mr. Hawke?” she asked, leaning forward, finding his brown eyes troubled. “And why are you here?”
He looked panicked for a moment until a voice cut between them, and Mr. Hawke looked up gratefully when another young man joined them.
“Miss Tavners, would you care to dance?”
It was Millie’s fisherman. Obviously, he had been sent to ask her to dance as Daisy would pose no threat to Millie’s own pursuit of him. Daisy was annoyed that she hadn’t been able to obtain any further information from Mr. Hawke, but when she caught Millie’s pleading look from across the room, she nodded.
“If Mr. Hawke feels comfortable with his own company, then I would be happy to,” she said, and Mr. Hawke nodded.
“Of course,” he said in obvious relief. “Please do.”
Daisy provided him one last look telling him that this was not over, that she would find out his secrets eventually, and then rejoined the dance floor.
10
Aside from Daisy’s questioning and the fact that he could no longer tear his eyes from her person, which somewhat disturbed him, most of the evening was actually quite enjoyable. Nathaniel had never attended a dance that was not created from a carefully cultivated guest list, and while appearances were still obviously a factor here, there was more to the countenance of these people — a sincerity he wasn’t used to.
They were a community, and despite the gossip and the odd rivalry, they quite obviously cared for one another.
When the Tavners and Johnson families were finally ready to leave, Nathaniel hauled himself to his feet after another brief respite. He had found that as long as he took enough breaks, he was able to spend some of the evening on his feet.
“Are you sure you are all right?” Daisy asked in his ear as they left the estate.
“I am,” he affirmed with a nod, flashing her a quick smile that he hoped would appease her. She didn’t look convinced, but she also didn’t argue with him, which he appreciated. If anything, she seemed to understand his need to fend for himself on his own terms.
Even so, he lagged behind the rest of the group, but for the first time, he somewhat appreciated his lack of mobility as it meant that he and Daisy, who waited for him, had a few moments alone out of earshot of the rest of them.
“If you’d prefer to go on ahead, no need to wait for the cripple back here.”
“Do not call yourself that,” she admonished him, and he gave a bit of a snort as he shook his head.
As much as he didn’t want to admit it, his leg was sore, the place where the muscle had been sliced through now throbbing. He should be taking better care of it, he knew — it was not as though he had anything else to do, now did he?
“Have you spent much time in London?” she asked now, surprising him as they walked down the incline from the Mansel estate.
He supposed there was no reason why he couldn’t answer that question.
“I have, actually.”
“What’s it like?” she asked now, turning her face up to him, her high cheekbones and sea blue eyes illuminated in the moonlight. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen anything more beautiful.
“London?” he asked, attempting to shake himself from his trance. “You’ve never been to London?”
“I’ve been once, with my father,” she said, a wistful look coming over her face. “He had meetings there, and I convinced him to take me along. But I didn’t see much of the city. Nothing really beyond the inn where we stayed and some of the marketplaces. I feel as though you must know another side of London — the fashionable side.”
“I’m not sure as though I would call it fashionable,” he said with a slight chuckle.
“As much as I know you don’t want to share your life with me, I know you come from some wealth,” she persisted. “That much is clear. What is it like? To ride a carriage through London, or to walk the huge parks surrounded by all manner of people and beautiful buildings?”
Nathaniel had never really thought much about those aspects of his life. They all had been just that — regular, everyday activities. He had been raised in the countryside during the summers and then would spend every Season with his family in London, where their manor was large enough to make Mansel’s country estate look small in comparison.
“I suppose carriage rides are no different than most,” he said with a smile in answer to her question. “The buildings are impressive to look at, though in a different way than what nature holds. The life itself can be interesting, depending on what you enjoy. If fashions and gossip and taking tea is enjoyable, then living in London — as a person with money — would be rather remarkable. I always far preferred to keep myself occupied and as a—” He was about to say as the son of a nobleman, but caught himself in time. “As a man without a title, I had little with which to keep myself occupied, and I had no wish to become one of those dandies who spends his days chasing women and his money on gambling and the like. That is why I joined the war effort, I suppose. I was bored.”
“You were bored,” she said incredulously as she stared off in the distance. Then she turned to eye him once more. “You haven’t described the parks.”
“The parks? Well yes, they are beautiful, but nothing can compare to the country, in particular what you have here in Southwold, with the ocean on one side and what looks to be meadows and fields on the other.”
“It is rather lovely when you think on it,” she said, her head tilted ever so slightly to the side in a whimsical way. “Actually—” She stopped suddenly and raised a hand to point out into the inky darkness across the way. “Over there, you can’t see it now, but just over the rise, there is a large oak tree in the distance. Surrounding it is a field of bluebells as far as the eye can see. It’s quite beautiful and so incredibly peaceful. Sometimes, if I have a moment, I like to go sit right at the base of that tree, and just take in the beauty that surrounds me. Next to the beach, it’s probably my favorite place in the world.”
Suddenly she dropped her arm, and her head as well.
“I’m sorry, I became somewhat carried away, lost in my thoughts.”
“There is nothing to apologize for,” he responded gently. “It sounds beautiful. I’d like to see it.”
“Truly?” she asked, her head turning toward him once again. “You, the man of action, want to see my peaceful, boring meadow?”
“It doesn’t sound quite so boring, the way you describe it,” he said with a grin.
“Very well,” she said, and he could hear the self-consciousness in her tone. “Tomorrow we shall go. This time, we’ll take the horses.”
* * *
Last night, with only the moon for illumination and the night dark and still around them, riding to her oak tree, as she thought of it, had seemed like a marvelous idea. Today, Daisy was greatly regretting her decision.
She had only an hour or so before she would have to rush to the marketplace to gather supplies to begin creating tonight’s dinner, but it would have to be enough time for Mr. Hawke.
Daisy would have told her father where they were going, but at the moment, he was nowhere to be found. She told Marigold instead, who looked at her with wide eyes.
“Are you sure you should be going riding with Mr. Hawke… alone?” Marigold asked, biting her lip, and Daisy shrug
ged her shoulders.
“He seems perfectly respectable, and he asked to see the countryside. Who else would take him?” Daisy questioned, though Marigold didn’t look convinced.
“I’m surprised, following your initial reaction toward him. However, he does seem like a good, respectable man, but really, we do not know much about him at all,” Marigold persisted.
Well, that much was true. They didn’t know anything about Mr. Hawke, but as annoyingly arrogant he could be, she had no worries about him being anything but appropriate in their encounters.
“It will be fine, Marigold,” she assured her sister. “Father seems to know him and has no concerns about him residing at the inn. We will return in less than an hour.”
Marigold finally nodded, but still looked worried as Daisy gave her one last reassuring smile as she left the house to the stables next door to prepare horses for the two of them. They owned three, all of them being somewhat slow workhorses, whose main role was to pull their wagon if they had to travel some distance. But they were sturdy and dependable, which, quite honestly, was likely what Mr. Hawke needed at the moment.
“Good morning,” he said, startling her as she prepared the tack, and Daisy couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face at his voice. She couldn’t understand why his very presence would bring her happiness when he had been so surly to her for so long, but she couldn’t deny that being around him caused a sense of giddiness to fill her. It was embarrassing yet somehow… pleasant.
“Good morning,” she responded, attempting to temper in her smile before she turned around, not wanting him to realize that she was actually somewhat looking forward to this outing.
“This is Lucky,” she said, running a hand over the horse’s smooth roan head, and Lucky nuzzled her neck in response, causing Daisy to laugh. When she looked up, Mr. Hawke was staring at her somewhat strangely, but Daisy lost track of her thoughts when Lucky whinnied into her neck once more.
A Duke for Daisy: The Blooming Brides Book 1 Page 6