“Is that what that was?”
Nicholas grinned. Daisy found his smile appallingly seductive. She snapped her head around and faced forward. She wasn’t about to let an American savage charm her into doing his bidding.
“I’d like to hear more about what you’ve done over the past year,” Nicholas said.
“I’m sure the bailiff, Mr. Henderson, can tell you anything you need to know.”
“I want to hear it from you,” Nicholas said.
His request was a hair’s breadth from being an order. Daisy thought about denying him, then realized she was glad to have the opportunity to let him know some of the projects she had started which would need his approval to be continued.
“I put new slate roofs on most of the cottages, many of which were leaking abominably.” She glanced at him as though daring him to object to the expenditure.
“That sounds reasonable,” he said, denying her the argument she was dying to have with him.
“I opened a school for the tenants’ children and hired a young woman to teach them,” she said defiantly.
“Education is important,” Nicholas said. “We have a number of women teachers in America. I’ve never found them to be less competent than a man.”
“I sold off Tony’s racing stock.”
“Tony raced horses?”
Daisy nodded. “It was a passion with him. But I didn’t see the sense in keeping a stable of blooded animals.”
“I would have liked to see them,” Nicholas murmured.
“Well, you can’t,” Daisy said. “I sold them all!”
“What else did you sell?” Nicholas asked, an edge to his voice.
“Nothing that would interest you.”
“What?”
“I sold a great deal of outmoded farming machinery.” She paused and swallowed before finishing “And bought new.”
Nicholas arched a brow. “How did you know what to buy?”
“I read farm journals. And of course I asked Mr. Henderson’s advice.” She didn’t tell him that Henderson had vehemently objected to her “newfangled ideas.” He would find that out the first time he talked to the bailiff.
“How did the tenants react to the new machinery?” Nicholas asked.
Daisy started. She hadn’t expected Nicholas to be perceptive enough to realize there had been problems with the introduction of modern farming methods. “They were skeptical,” she admitted. “At first. But they soon came to see the advantages to be had from the new machinery.”
“How do you think they’re going to react when I ask them to plant an entirely different crop?”
Daisy wrinkled her nose. “You’re going to have your hands full convincing them to make such a drastic change. Most of them have farmed the same land, the same crop, for generations.”
“What did you say to get them to try the machines?”
Daisy blushed. “I’m afraid I bribed them.”
“Bribed them?”
“I promised to make up from estate funds anything they lost on this year’s crops as a result of trying my suggestions.”
“Wasn’t that a bit risky?” Nicholas asked. “What if the crops had failed?”
There was a long silence.
“The crops did succeed, didn’t they, Daisy?” Nicholas asked in an ominous voice.
“Not exactly.”
“What exactly?”
“We had rain in the middle of the harvest. The machines broke down, a mechanical failure. Because we relied on the machinery, there weren’t enough men to get the harvest in by hand. We lost part of the crop.”
“Damn. Damn.” Nicholas took off his hat—he missed his Stetson—shoved a hand through his hair, and settled the small-brimmed English hat back on his head. “How much did that shortsighted idea indebt the estate?”
“Not much,” Daisy hedged.
“How much?” Nicholas demanded.
Daisy named a sum that had Nicholas hissing in his breath.
“Good Lord, woman. No wonder I can’t sell this place!”
“The machines were a good idea,” Daisy said heatedly.
“But the bargain you made with the tenants wasn’t.”
“We’ll make it up next year.”
“I won’t be here next year,” Nicholas reminded her.
Daisy bit her lip. She wouldn’t beg him to stay. He could go back to America for all she cared. He was a stupid, ignorant boor. What did he know about running an English estate?
“I can’t believe Phipps suggested I marry you as a way of controlling the tenants. Hell, from the sound of things, a few English pounds would have accomplished the same thing!”
“They didn’t do it for the money,” Daisy said.
“You just got through telling me you promised to make up their losses,” Nicholas argued.
“When I offered them the money, they wouldn’t take it,” Daisy said in a quiet voice.
“What?”
“They said it wasn’t my fault, so Severn shouldn’t have to pay.”
“Are you telling me they turned down the money you owed them.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Daisy retorted. “And now I’ve had as much conversation with you as I can stand.”
She spurred her horse, and it took off at a gallop.
Nicholas watched her go. She was some woman, all right.
He could imagine a female putting new roofs on homes and creating a school. Home and children were a woman’s domain. And he could see her selling the racing stock. Fast horses wouldn’t be of much interest to someone who didn’t bet on them. But her institution of the new farming methods stunned him.
Imagine a woman having the foresight to implement modern farm machinery. Imagine a woman having the savvy to negotiate an agreement with the tenants to use that equipment. Imagine a woman being so beloved that those same tenants didn’t hold her to the foolish, generous deal she had made.
She wasn’t like the women he had known. Of course, he hadn’t spent much time with ladies, either. Nevertheless, he wasn’t at all sure what to make of her. He was certain of one thing, at least. He wanted her in his bed.
That was reason enough to hold to his bargain to marry her.
6
“I can’t do it!”
“Daisy? What are you doing here at this hour of the morning? I thought you weren’t coming here again until Charles got some sense.” Priss was sitting up in bed in her nightgown with a pot of tea and toast beside her. Daisy slammed Priss’s bedroom door behind her, making the knickknacks that covered every available surface rattle. “Has something gone wrong?” Priss asked.
“Wrong?” Daisy retorted. “I’ve only agreed to marry an uncouth, barbaric savage! What could possibly be wrong?”
Priss clapped her hands in delight. “He agreed? However did you get him to say yes so quickly?”
Daisy stopped her impassioned pacing at the foot of Priss’s bed and glared at her friend. “You talked me into this. You get me out of it!”
“But you don’t want to get out of it, not really, Daisy,” Priss said. “You have the duke exactly where you want him now.”
Daisy’s mouth flattened in disgust. “It feels more like he has me where he wants me! He … he frightens me, Priss.”
Priss’s brown eyes widened in alarm. “Are you suggesting he would use his physical strength against you, Daisy? Because if that’s what you’re saying, then of course we must rescue you from this situation at once! I’ll speak with Charles and—” Priss was already reaching for the bellcord to summon her maid when Daisy took the few steps necessary to grasp her hand and stop her.
“It isn’t the threat of physical harm I fear,” Daisy said.
“Then what is it?”
“I can’t explain exactly.” Daisy knew what it was that bothered her about her relationship with the duke. She just wasn’t sure she wanted to confess her feelings to Priss. Yet Priss wasn’t going to be able to advise her unless she told her friend the tru
th.
Daisy sighed and seated herself in the upholstered chair beside Priss’s bed. “All right,” she said. “If you must know, he makes me shiver whenever he gets within a foot of me.”
Priss frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.” Her face brightened. “Unless you’re shivering because you’re attracted to him. Is that it, Daisy?”
Daisy eyed Priss warily. “I’m not sure. It might be that.”
“But that’s wonderful! If you like the duke—”
“I never said I liked him!” Daisy snapped. She lurched to her feet and began pacing again. “That’s the problem. I don’t like him at all.” Her lips pursed in a moue of distaste. “But it appears I … I respond to him, to his maleness, whenever he comes near me.”
Priss’s eyes twinkled with humor. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Daisy.”
“Nothing wrong?” Daisy snorted inelegantly. “We’re right back where we started when I marched in here. You have to help me, Priss.”
Priss shrugged. “What is it you expect me to do, Daisy? I can’t rescue Severn. Only the duke can do that. With your help, of course. You knew marriage to Severn would be a sacrifice, yet you agreed to it. I can’t understand your reluctance to marry him now, simply because you’re attracted to him. That would seem to make your predicament more palatable, not less.”
“But I don’t want to be attracted to him,” Daisy said with a groan of frustration.
What she couldn’t tell Priss, what terrified her, was the thought that she might get to like having the duke for a husband. Then where would she be when he took himself off to America, as he had claimed he would? She would be left alone again. Daisy didn’t want to let herself care for someone else who would leave her. She had suffered too much, first at Tony’s abandonment of her bed and then at his death. Going through the same thing again would devastate her. The duke wouldn’t be dead, of course, but he might as well be if the width of an ocean separated them.
She already had an inkling of what his lovemaking would be like. In the years since Tony had left her bed, she had stopped letting herself yearn for a man’s touch. She had stopped dreaming what it would be like to kiss and be kissed. She had stopped hoping to wake and find a man’s hard, sinewy body entangled with her own.
Nicholas brought all those yearnings, all those dreams and hopes back to rash and reckless life. Only this morning when he had leaned over to whisper in her ear, she had felt her blood rush, felt the liquid heat pool between her thighs. She had trembled at the thought he might kiss her. She had felt his heated breath against her face, and even that brush of moist air had been enough to send a shiver of expectation down her spine. It had taken all the self-control she had to continue eating as though nothing were amiss.
Nicholas knew the power he held over her. Daisy was sure of it. If he were any other man, she would be ecstatic with both his attentiveness and her reaction to his suggestive behavior. But the brazen American had only one use for a woman. He had told her so himself. Oh, he wanted her physically, all right. But he had no intention of allowing her to play any other role in his life than that of bedmate. That was what frightened her. She wanted more. She wanted him to recognize, as Tony never had, that she was so much more than a source of pleasure for him, that she had a mind and a will and desires and dreams of her own.
Now, if there were just some delicate way of explaining all that to Priss …
“Daisy?”
Daisy saw the worried look on Priss’s face and realized she must have been silent for some time. “I’m all right, Priss.” For the first time since she had arrived, Daisy took a good look at Priss. It was unusual that her friend was still abed. Furthermore, she looked wan and pinched. Daisy moved to the bed, took Priss’s hands in her own, and peered into the young woman’s pale face.
“I’ve been so busy thinking about myself I haven’t given you a thought,” Daisy said guiltily. “I’ve just realized you’re still in bed long past sunrise. While that might be common for ladies in London, or even a few in the country, I know you better. What’s wrong, Priss? You look terrible!”
Priss laughed. “Daisy, Daisy. Only you would be so marvelously blunt.”
“Oh, dear. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s perfectly all right. There’s a reason why I’m still in bed and why I look this way.” Priss blushed and said, “Charles and I are expecting a happy event.”
It took a moment for the truth to dawn on Daisy. When it did, she paled and then flushed. Her first thought was one of jealous envy, her second was shame that she could be jealous of her best friend, who had been childless for two years. She should be happy Priss was finally going to realize her hope of perhaps giving Charles an heir.
She leaned over and hugged Priss tightly. “I’m so happy for you,” she forced past the lump of emotion that clogged her throat. “So very, very happy!”
When she leaned back to look into Priss’s face once more, she was stunned to find Priss in tears. “You are happy, aren’t you, Priss?”
“Delighted,” Priss agreed. “Only I know how badly you’ve always wanted a child, Daisy. And I wish—”
“Don’t worry about me,” Daisy chided her friend. “I’ve learned to live with what I can’t change. At least now there will be a baby I can come and play with and enjoy. You will invite me often, won’t you?”
“You needn’t even ask,” Priss said. “I want you to be godmother to our child. If you’d be willing?”
Daisy hugged Priss again and, while her face was hidden, bit her lip to force back the tears of regret and sorrow that burned her nose. “Oh, yes, Priss. Thank you. I would love that.”
“Now,” Priss said, smiling to lighten the mood, “I think I’d better get up so I can join you and Charles downstairs. I want him to know you’ve agreed to be godmother to the baby.”
“Are you sure you’re well enough?”
“I’m only a little nauseous in the mornings,” Priss said. “Tea and toast solve that problem. Truly, I feel fine. Certainly well enough to join company downstairs.”
“Even if that company includes the Duke of Severn?” Daisy asked.
“He’s here?”
Daisy nodded. “He rode over with me. At least, most of the way he did. We had an argument, and I left him behind.”
“I wonder why Charles hasn’t sent someone up to fetch me.”
Daisy wondered herself why she hadn’t heard anything from downstairs. Surely the duke hadn’t lost his way. Or maybe he had decided not to ride here after all.
She knew that was wishful thinking.
Priss fought her way out of all the ruffles on the bed and pulled the bellcord. “I need to dress. Then we have to get down there, Daisy, and see what’s going on.”
Nicholas had arrived at Rockland Park only a few minutes behind Daisy. He met Charles Warenne, the Earl of Rotherham, returning from a morning ride of his own.
The two men drew their horses to a stop before the ivy-covered house and stared for a moment at each other, looking for similarities between their boyhood images of each other and the men they had become.
“You haven’t changed,” Charles said at last. “You still look like the devil incarnate.”
“Thanks,” Nicholas said with a wry smile. “May I return the compliment?”
The earl laughed. “I swear you haven’t changed one bit, Nick. Or should I say Your Grace?”
“I consider myself an American now, Charles. I don’t need or want the title.”
“You should at least respect it,” the earl said.
“That’s difficult, under the circumstances.”
One of the grooms approached to take their horses, and Nicholas quickly said, “Why don’t we ride a little more? I have a few things I’d like to discuss with you in private.”
“Very well.” Charles nudged his horse with his spurs and set off at a trot.
They pulled their horses to a stop at the top of a ridge from which they could see the entire valley below
them, divided up into plots for farming. Nicholas took off his hat, thrust a hand through his hair, and resettled it on his head.
“I never appreciated this as a child,” he mused. “Was it always this beautiful?”
“I suppose it must have been.”
Nicholas breathed deeply, smelling the grass and the heather on the wind. “I missed home a great deal at first.”
“And later?” Charles coaxed.
“I tried never to think about it. The memories … were hard.”
“I never believed the tales they told about your mother.”
Nicholas eyed his friend. “Who did you hear telling tales?”
“I heard my parents talking. My father was sure Lord Philip was mistaken. He even talked to him about it. But your fath—Lord Philip was adamant.” Charles looked up and met Nicholas’s steady gaze. “Lord Philip apparently had some firm evidence that condemned your mother.”
“Do you have any idea what it was? Or who provided it?” Nicholas asked.
“Why, no. Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
“What possible difference can it make now?”
“I want to know the truth.”
Charles’s hands tightened on the reins, and his horse sidled at the pull on his mouth. Charles relaxed as he apparently came to a decision. “I can tell you this much. The evidence came from someone your father knew well, a friend of his.”
“Male or female?”
“I can’t say.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“It was someone my parents were acquainted with,” Charles said. “I don’t know any more than that.”
“Then it was likely someone from the neighborhood,” Nicholas said.
“Or someone they knew in London.”
“But if it was someone from London, they would have had to be visiting in the neighborhood,” Nicholas said. “It had to be someone who was here.”
“Now all you have to do is figure out who was here at the time,” Charles said. “That shouldn’t give you more than forty or fifty people to choose from. And how will anyone remember who was here and who wasn’t? It’s been nearly thirty years. Give it up, Nick,” he said in a quiet voice.
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