by Meara Platt
A hot blush crept into Daisy’s cheeks. “I know, but there’s something about him that puts me off.” She wondered whether to confide in Julia that he seemed to have a roving eye and she sensed he would not be faithful in their marriage, assuming he ever would consider marriage to her, which she doubted. Curiously, she thought Gabriel would be faithful, for everyone knew that reformed rakes made the best husbands, or so it said in Lady Forsythia’s book.
“I was fortunate the first time,” Julia admitted. “Harrison was a good man and I loved him dearly, but marriage is a mercenary business. Women don’t have the ability to make their own fortunes, so they must marry well. Why don’t you like Auguste? He seems quite charming.”
“He’s a little intimidating, I suppose.” So was Gabriel, but not in the same way. What was it about Gabriel that set her heart aflutter? And why couldn’t Auguste evoke even a blush from her? He was handsome and clever, and he hadn’t really done anything wrong. True, he had gone into the garden with another woman, but he was still free to do so. The true test would come once he declared for her. She silently berated herself. His sort did not propose marriage to daughters of merchants, not even wealthy merchants.
“You needn’t be in love with Auguste to marry him,” Julia said, interrupting her thoughts. “The Malinors are among England’s most prominent families. Auguste is a viscount in his own right and will inherit the vast earldom upon his father’s death.”
Daisy’s thoughts drifted once more as Julia droned on about convenient marital arrangements and discreet understandings, none of which held any appeal for her. She was going to marry for love and would settle for nothing less.
“... though you’re not nearly as clever as Lily,” Julia remarked, regaining her attention. “You’d find a way to coax a marriage proposal out of young Lord Malinor if you really tried.”
She shook her head and laughed. “Julia, I’m not an idiot.”
“Of course you’re not. I never said any such thing.” She drew up her mount and paused to study Daisy, finally giving a nod of approval. “You have a natural beauty and a genuine sincerity that men find quite attractive. Thank goodness you’re nothing like that bluestocking sister of yours. Few men will want Lily, for the brain on that girl is intimidating. She’ll probably die an old maid surrounded by her books. But, as I said, you are nothing like your sister and have great possibilities.”
“Oh, that makes me so feel much better.” She laughed again, amazed by her aunt’s ability to insult her and Lily in the same breath. Lily was too brilliant to attract a man and she, Daisy, was too empty headed. She understood that Julia did not mean to insult her. She loved the woman, but often found her exasperating, as she was now.
“And if you don’t wish to pursue young Malinor, then consider Lord Six-Thousand-a-Year. He’ll make you far happier than Lord Dayne ever could. You must keep away from that scoundrel. He’s no good. He’ll only hurt you, Daisy. You deserve far better.”
“How can you say that after all he’s done for Harry?”
Julia pursed her lips and raised her chin daintily in the air. “He humiliated me in front of my own son, in front of my entire family.”
Obviously, that remained a sore spot for her aunt. “He didn’t, but even if he had—which he didn’t—can’t you see the wonderful change in Harry?”
Her chin tipped higher. “No, I can’t. Harry’s always been wonderful and that hasn’t changed.”
Daisy let out a resigned sigh. No amount of logic or reasoning would alter Julia’s resentment toward Gabriel.
Their horses hadn’t gone more than a few steps further before Julia suddenly reined in her mount and let out a soft cry of delight. “There’s Auguste Malinor and he’s riding toward us. Here’s your chance, my girl. I wonder if his father is here, too.” She craned her neck to get a better view, then let out a huff. “Oh, drat. I don’t see him.”
Daisy couldn’t imagine the elder Lord Malinor fitting his rotund frame upon a horse. His jowls would bounce about like soft pudding. However, Auguste cut a trim, striking figure in his black riding jacket and buff breaches. He sat astride an enormous gray gelding, exuding confidence and authority.
“Good afternoon, Lord Malinor.” Julia sat a little straighter in her saddle as she greeted him.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Farthingale.” He nodded to Julia, then allowed his gaze to drift to Daisy, one eyebrow tilting up in mockery as he noticed her poor little mare. He smiled, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. “Miss Farthingale. What a pleasant surprise. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here since you’re known to be an excellent rider. But your riding tends to take place in the early morning I understand.”
A tingle of unease crawled up Daisy’s neck. “I help my sister out with her horses on occasion, if that’s what you mean.”
His smile seemed frozen on his face and she felt its coldness. “Very thoughtful of you to lend her a hand.”
“She appreciates the assistance,” Daisy replied, wondering at his comments. He had no right to berate her for taking Brutus through his paces this morning. And how did he learn of it anyway?
“I have no doubt. Family loyalty is an honorable trait.”
“We’re a large, but very close family,” Julia interjected. “We’re all loyal to each other, even those who marry in.”
She’d stressed the word “marry.”
“And what of your sister, Miss Farthingale? Does her loyalty lie with her family or Lord Graelem’s family?”
“I should think both.”
Once again, he arched a dark eyebrow. “Both?”
Daisy did not care for his manner. “My lord, are you suggesting there is a reason for her to choose sides? If so, which side must she choose? Pray enlighten us, for you seem to have a point to your comments.”
“Forgive me,” he said, his gaze now lowering to her hands, which were now curled into fists on Bessie’s reins. “I don’t mean to suggest there is a conflict, although it is common knowledge that not every male in the Dayne family has turned out quite as well as hoped.”
“You mustn’t believe all the gossip you hear.” She silently counted to ten to restrain her temper, which was about to erupt with volcanic force. This conversation was beginning to feel like an interrogation and she wished to put an end to it before she damaged his delicate nasal cavities with her fist.
“It is fact, not gossip, Miss Farthingale. Gabriel Dayne is a dangerous man.”
Bloodying one young lord’s nose might be overlooked, but bloodying two young lords was certain to have her banned from society. No one wanted an ill-bred, slightly tarnished hellion in their midst. Not that she cared, but her family had gone to great expense on her behalf and she did not wish to disappoint them more than she already had.
“Aren’t all men dangerous?” Julia chimed in with a merry laugh, obviously trying to lighten the conversation. “And is that not why well-bred young ladies are under constant watch by their chaperones? The Daynes are an honorable family, as are the Farthingales. What Daisy means to say is that there isn’t likely to be a conflict. Of course, she understands that a wife’s duty is to her husband. Isn’t that right, Daisy?”
She was spared the need to respond—neither Julia nor Auguste would have liked her response anyway—by the timely appearance of Lord Lumley Hornby, he of the delicate nose. Daisy winced, for his nose was still red and more than a little swollen. Perhaps she had struck him harder than she’d realized.
Wishing to make amends, she tossed him an overly cheerful smile. “Lord Hornby, how nice to see you.” Of course, the incident had been his fault. He shouldn’t have tried to kiss her beside his gherkins... nor should Gabriel have kissed her, for that matter, but she’d been the one eager to kiss him, not the other way around, so it wasn’t at all the same thing. Was it?
“Harumph, grumph,” was all Lumley said, followed by a frosty stare. Obviously, he was still angry over their last encounter. Would he ever forgive her?
He was far more polite when greeting Auguste, and practically tripping over his tongue in raptures the moment his gaze fell on Julia. One would think he was a man dying of thirst and she was his cool drink of lemonade. He continued to lavish compliments on Julia until Daisy wanted to put her finger in her mouth and make gagging sounds.
Point made, you muggins. You like her, hate me.
Julia did not look that exquisite in her dark green riding habit. And her gold hair, though pretty, did not match the brilliance of the sun.
Never one to resist flattery, Julia fell into animated conversation with the young lord. Or as Julia might call him, Lord Five-Thousand-a-Year.
Daisy stifled a chuckle. Having been rebuffed by her, was Lumley now considering Julia as a prospective wife? And—gasp—was Julia seriously considering him as husband material?
Her aunt and Lumley rode ahead, forcing her to lag behind with Auguste.
She and Auguste also made an odd-looking couple, she decided, he on his muscled gray and she on the creaking Bessie, but she was determined to make the best of it, so she tried to turn the conversation to something light and inconsequential. “Nothing like a clear blue sky to cheer up the day.”
“Makes for excellent traveling weather. I hear some of your friends are planning a trip.”
“My friends?” Goodness, had he taken lessons in the art of conversation from the Spanish Inquisitor himself, Torquemada?
“Lord Dayne, for one.”
She reined in Bessie and cast him a scowl. “Lord Dayne, again. I wouldn’t know about his plans. Indeed, I hardly know him.”
Which was the truth. She knew very little about Gabriel, though not from lack of trying.
“Ah, then I’m mistaken. I thought you and he were on quite friendly terms, Miss Farthingale.”
“I’m quite good friends with his grandmother,” she corrected. “And as you know, his cousin is married to my sister. For that reason alone, we meet on occasion.”
“Then you won’t mind if I repeat my warning. He is a dangerous man.”
“I should think it beneath you to engage in malicious gossip.”
“The whispers about him are true.” Auguste suddenly grabbed her elbow and drew her closer. “Just a few hours ago,” he said, his voice cold and menacing, “Lord Dayne had a row with Wellington and,” he glanced about before leaning forward to speak in her ear, “insulted the Prince Regent. No one knows quite what it was about, but I have it on good authority that they fought quite bitterly.”
Daisy frowned. “Whose authority? Your father’s?”
“I’m not at liberty to reveal my sources, but it is someone in a position to know. Anyone who associates with that scoundrel now will be tainted by his reputation.”
Something she could ill afford if she was ever to get back in her family’s good graces. Obviously, Auguste was trying to protect her, though she cared little for the manner in which he sought to accomplish it. “I’ll keep it in mind. Truly, I will,” she said with more sincerity than she felt. “Thank you, my lord.”
His lips curled in a smile. It wasn’t a soft smile, for there really wasn’t anything soft about Auguste. He was all hard, calculating angles.
As they continued together, Daisy attempted to learn more about him, to give him a chance to dispel her unfavorable impression of him, but with each passing phaeton and carriage, his condescension, not only toward Gabriel, but toward almost every member of respectable society encountered during their ride, became quite evident.
The man was insufferable.
Daisy took the opportunity to rejoin Julia and Lumley when Auguste was momentarily trapped in conversation with the dowager Duchess Langwell, a long-time friend of the Malinor family and a woman too powerfully connected for him to ignore.
However, the conversation between her aunt and he-of-the-swollen-nasal-cavities was equally uninspired. In truth, it was painfully awkward. While Lumley’s attention was openly fixed on Julia, she was droning on about the elder Lord Malinor.
“Yes, I’m sure simply everyone will be out this afternoon,” Lumley agreed, “even him.”
It was no secret that the elder Malinor had been exceptionally attentive to her aunt these past few days. While Daisy wasn’t keen on him as a prospect for Julia, she wasn’t about to discourage her aunt, either. The man was wealthy and influential, able to offer Julia a very good life and many advantages for young Harry.
Indeed, Lord Malinor might prove a good mentor for Harry. But Lumley, despite being a bit of a dolt, had a kinder disposition and would offer her his heart.
Lord Malinor finally did make his appearance, a spectacular one at that, driving a magnificent yellow phaeton that had all in the park gawking as he passed. He drew up the reins to stop beside them, eliciting a squeal of delight from Julia. Lumley’s expression turned unmistakably glum. Daisy almost felt sorry for the young lord, for he was on the whole a decent fellow, just dull and predictable, certainly no competition for the prominent elder Malinor.
Once again, Daisy’s attention lagged as they exchanged pleasantries. She strained in her saddle to peer beyond Lord Malinor’s carriage as a rider in the distance caught her notice. Was that Gabriel astride Goliath? Yes, it was, and he was talking to a young woman seated in a sleek carriage. Daisy eased back, hoping for a better view of the woman.
Her heart sank into her stomach.
Gabriel’s companion was the merry widow, Lady Olivia Westhaven, and the two of them appeared engrossed in conversation, though one could hardly call Lady Olivia’s leaning out of her carriage and jiggling her large breasts in front of Gabriel a civilized form of conversation.
Daisy refused to acknowledge the sudden lump in her throat.
“My dear,” Lord Malinor said, startling her out of her thoughts, “would you care to join me for a ride?” He loosened his grasp on the reins of his pair of matched grays and reached down to offer her a hand. “You can tell me all about my son. I hope he has been treating you well.”
“He is a perfect gentleman,” she said smoothly, although he wasn’t really. Auguste was still insufferable, but at the moment she was quite put out with Gabriel. The cur was openly ogling Lady Westfall’s still-bouncing breasts.
Would those things never stop jiggling?
“Miss Farthingale?” Lord Malinor held out his hand to help her onto his splendid conveyance.
Having no desire to hurt Julia’s feelings, she politely declined.
“Don’t be shy, my dear. The view’s wonderful from up here. One can see everything going on in the park. The phaeton’s new, just delivered today. Paint’s hardly dry on the door.” He pointed to the family crest, two maces across the bloody head of a boar. Unfortunately, there was a startling resemblance between Lord Malinor and that boar. “Here, take my hand, my girl. I’ll help you to climb up.”
Daisy smothered her annoyance at his persistence. Not even the possibility of stealing a better glance at Gabriel and his merry widow could tempt her to accept. To make matters worse, Julia appeared distraught. She had wanted to be invited first, and despite all, Daisy loved Julia and would never do anything to hurt her feelings.
She spared another glance at Julia, saw that her lips were quivering and there was pain evident in her glistening eyes. Daisy wished Julia was pitching daggers at her instead, for anger was so much easier to dismiss than anguish. Why had Lord Malinor invited her first, anyway? Did he have a particular motive? “Very well, you’ve convinced us, my lord. Julia, won’t that be fun? You go first and I’ll go next. I’ll wait right here while you take your turn. How kind of you, Lord Malinor.” She tugged old Bessie’s reins and the horse responded by backing away two steps, just out of reach of his pudgy, outstretched hand.
“Indeed,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Julia, now beaming, dropped her mount’s reins into Lumley’s hands without a moment of hesitation and hopped up beside the elder Malinor.
Daisy sighed. She had appeased Julia, bu
t crushed Lumley. She almost felt sorry for him, recognizing his look of unrequited adoration. She’d felt much the same about Gabriel.
Whatever Lord Malinor’s intention, he recovered well and smiled at Julia. “You’re looking well, Mrs. Farthingale. We’ll take a quick turn, if you don’t mind, for I have very little time to spare. Caught up in pressing business these days.”
“I don’t have a head for business. Thank goodness this country has competent men such as you to guide us.” Julia batted her eyelashes, looking every bit the helpless widow. Daisy stifled a laugh. Her aunt could count up a row of columns faster than any man alive, and Lord Malinor, also known as Lord Forty-Thousand-a-Year, had lots of shillings to count.
“I would consider it an honor to guide you in your personal affairs,” Lord Malinor responded warmly, “should the need ever arise. You have only to ask, my dear.”
“As would I,” Lumley interjected. “You... er, can ask me too.”
Poor Lumley, he was an earnest dolt. What chance did he have against Lord Malinor, England’s finance minister?
“Will you be attending Lady Baldridge’s musicale this evening?” Lord Malinor asked Daisy, on the surface appearing to include her once more in the conversation, but she couldn’t get over the feeling he had an ulterior purpose.
“Indeed, my lord. I hear her daughter, Elspeth, is an accomplished harpist and will regale us with ancient Celtic tunes.”
“Surely she’s not as accomplished as you. I’m told you have a lovely singing voice. I hope you’ll grace us with a song or two.”
“My talent is adequate, at best,” she said with a chuckle. He’d confused her with her sister, Dillie, who had the voice of an angel.
“Ah, you’re beautiful and modest. No wonder my son—” He broke off sharply and gazed in the distance. “Devil take it, what’s he doing here?”
Daisy followed his gaze and saw Gabriel riding toward them. Having obviously accomplished his business with Lady Westhaven, he had murder in his eye. Oh, dear. He was glowering at the Malinors. She’d never seen him look so cold and determined before. “This doesn’t bode well,” she muttered under her breath.