She nodded, her smile fading as she heard the sound of dogs barking, followed by voices in the distance.
They’d reached the others.
She ought to be relieved.
She was relieved. That was what she told herself as the duke spoke to her father and she went off to join a flustered Marigold to assure her that she had survived the runaway horse encounter with no major injuries.
They both watched with no small amount of awe as the duke confronted her parents with a terrifying scowl. While she could not hear what he was saying, she could guess.
“So you survived then?” Marigold asked at her side as they watched the scene unfold.
“Yes,” Daisy said, flashing her friend a wry grin. “I am happy to report that only my pride was injured by my latest spectacle.”
Marigold laughed as she nudged her arm. “That was not what I meant.” She nodded toward the duke who was striding away from her parents toward his horse like a general setting off for war. “I meant, you survived another encounter with...him.”
Daisy bit her lip. She knew what her friend meant, of course. But watching him now, it was hard not to be distracted by the sight of him. So confident and filled with purpose with every move he made.
And then there were his arms. She knew now just how strong those arms were...and exactly how they felt wrapped around her. That chest, too…
She sucked in a quick breath at the memory of how it had felt to be pressed against him on his horse. Never in her life had she felt such heat, such power.
Never before had she felt so safe and protected.
“Are you sure you weren’t injured?”
Daisy tore her gaze from the duke to see Marigold eyeing her oddly. “I am quite sure.”
Marigold frowned. “It is just that...you seem awfully flushed.”
Daisy laughed, turning back just in time to see the duke hoisting himself up into his saddle in one graceful move. “If I am flushed it is because...well, I must admit, I rather enjoyed myself.”
Marigold’s lips were parted in shock when Daisy glanced over. “You enjoyed...the duke?”
Daisy nodded. It was the truth. Their conversation had been the most fun she’d had since the season had begun.
“But he seems so…” Marigold flailed a hand, clearly at a loss for words.
“Handsome?” Daisy finished, only half teasing.
Marigold wrinkled her nose as they watched the duke ride into the treeline to join the others. “I wouldn’t say he was all that handsome. He’s too...brutish.” She said that last word with a little shiver of horror and Daisy pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
“I suppose he is not your type,” she said.
Marigold shook her head. “Definitely not.” Her head whipped to the side to face her. “Is he yours?”
Daisy shrugged, her belly twisting uncomfortably as she forced herself to answer honestly. “I think...I think he could be.”
Take my word for it, Miss Merriweather, a love match only leads to pain.
His words from earlier came back to her and she frowned. He’d made it abundantly clear that love was not in the cards for him.
And she could never settle for anything less.
“Daisy? Are you all right?” Marigold prompted.
Daisy forced a smile but it was a pale imitation of the one she’d worn before. “I was just thinking that the duke could very well be the sort of man I could fall for, but…” She sighed loudly. “That is the problem.”
“It is?” Marigold sounded confused.
Understandably.
Daisy nodded. “It would be all too easy to lose my senses over the Duke of Dolan, but I know he would never feel the same.” She gave her friend a little smile. “Which is exactly why I can’t allow myself to develop an attachment. That would be...dangerous.”
Chapter Six
Griff stretched once again, the day spent in the saddle making his body refreshingly tired and sore. This state felt so much better than the restless energy he’d been left with the past several days of travelling and then attending this party. He began tying his own cravat as he prepared for dinner, having dismissed his valet so that he and Merrick could discuss the day’s events.
“Tell me,” Merrick started, stretching back in his chair. “What did you think of Mary?”
“Mary?” he asked, grimacing in the mirror as he made eye contact with his friend through the reflection. “I didn’t.”
Merrick lifted his hands, his face darkening with irritation. “Why did I go through the trouble of finding you a candidate if you’re not even going to try? You had a perfectly good outing with which to meet her. Honestly, Griff, if I’d known you weren’t serious about this, I wouldn’t have come to the party.”
“Why not?” Finishing his knot, he turned to Merrick, leaning back against his dressing table. “Unlike me, you love these sorts of events.”
Merrick let out a long breath. “I normally do, I suppose, but there is a particular young lady here that I prefer not to spend time with.” His brow wrinkled. “But we’re discussing you. You collected a boon for this. Why not take my advice?”
Griff raised a brow, ignoring Merrick’s second comment, intrigued by the first. “At the moment, you are far more interesting. If you don’t want to see this young lady, then don’t. It’s a large party. Just avoid her.”
Merrick ran his fingers through his normally neat hair, mussing the dark strands so they winged out in unruly waves. “She’s rather difficult to avoid, though I’ve been doing my best.”
Griff stared. Had this woman discomfited his friend? How interesting. “I have so many questions. But first, why is she difficult to avoid?”
Merrick let out a loud breath. “She’s always talking. And somehow she always ends up underfoot. She’s got a knack for it, I believe.”
“What does that matter to you? You always know exactly what to say in every situation. As your friend, I find it excessively annoying in its perfection.”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ve been friends with her brother since we were young lads at Oxford. She’s been an irritant for close to a decade now, and I have to confess that she has not improved with age.”
Griff narrowed one eye, not satisfied with the answer. He’d seen many ladies attempt to gain favor with Merrick, some of them resorting to outrageous measures, and his friend had never so much as flinched. “Do you remember that time that a Lady Abigail Wright dedicated her entire warbling performance of Adelina to you in front of a crowd of near a hundred people? Or the time that Miss Cassandra Smith—”
“Please don’t repeat it.” Merrick wrinkled his nose. “Those were social gaffes. This is a visceral feeling and I—”
Griff leaned forward, sure that Merrick would only skirt giving him any real information. “Will you at least tell me the girl’s name?”
Merrick let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. If you insist.”
“I do.”
“Miss Laura Upton is her name but she’s known to her friends as Lily. An utterly ridiculous nickname if you ask me.” He added in a grumble, “It makes her sound sweet.”
Griff scrunched his brow. He’d grown fond of girls named after flowers. “I think it’s a lovely name.”
“Did you just say lovely?” Merrick scoffed. “Pull yourself together, man.”
Griff let out a chuckle. “This Lily really has gotten under your skin.”
Merrick leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Don’t misunderstand me. She’s chosen the name because she’s a wallflower and apparently proud of that state of affairs. She takes pride in being an outcast of society. As though it’s a badge of honor.”
Griff shrugged, pushing off the dressing table. “I was looking for a wallflower. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing for you. A wallflower would suit you fine. That’s why I recommended her friend, Mary. Marigold they call her. Wallflowers, named after flowers. See what I mean? They’re flaunting
their nonconformity.”
They? Mary was friends with this Miss Laura? That meant that Daisy was friends Laura—or Lily, whatever her name was—as well. “And what do you know of Daisy?”
Merrick stopped combing his fingers through his hair once again, assessing Griff. “Are you sweet on her?”
Something that he didn’t like niggled in his stomach. “No. Of course not. But I am considering her for my next duchess.”
Merrick stood too, straightening his jacket, his face relaxing, his lips turning up in his usual smile. “Thank goodness, we’re discussing you again. I must confess, I didn’t expect this turn of events.” Then he tapped his chin. “But I see it, I suppose. In some ways she’s perfect.”
That caught Griff’s attention. “How so?”
“Until last season she was a wallflower. Unnoticed when she wasn’t being ridiculed for her clumsiness.”
Clumsiness? His chest tightened. She might have bumped him accidentally with that door after all. And the dance… “Go on.”
Merrick stepped up to Griff’s mirror, smoothing his hair and adjusting his cravat. “She seems to have blossomed this year into a beauty.”
“Ah. I see.” He crossed his arms, staring out into the dark night. So Daisy was a wallflower after all. Content to be on the outskirts of a party just like her friends, not fond of riding, able to make conversation on long walks through the woods.
She’d also seemed content with the silences in between. A trait he desperately needed in a wife.
“You’ve gotten awfully quiet.”
He turned back to Merrick. “It would seem you’ve found me a wallflower wife after all.”
“You’re going to propose?” Merrick asked, surprise making his brow lift. “After a day?”
He shrugged. “I see no reason for delay. She suits me.”
Griff started for the door, ready to go to dinner. He’d have to speak with Lord Turley tomorrow. He was certain the Turleys would be amenable to the match. But then another thought made him turn back to Merrick. “Besides being a wallflower, in what other ways do you think she’s perfect for me?”
Merrick shrugged, walking past him for the door. “You’ve always had an affection for exceedingly pretty women.”
Affection? That wasn’t what this was. Not at all. He found her to be a good conversationalist and amenable to the sort of life he wished to lead, that was all.
He’d failed to make his wife happy in his first marriage. A failure that stung deeply. This union, he’d approach completely differently from the last. It was an arrangement. There was no promise of a happily ever after. Because deep down, he wondered if he was even capable of such emotion. What if he wasn’t? What if he’d been the problem all along? He followed Merrick down the hall, lost in his own thoughts.
No, this time, he’d not allow feelings to creep into the bargain. This time, he’d marry Daisy because she was suitable, sensible, a fitting choice.
Decided, he entered the sitting room where everyone gathered before dinner, ready to spend a bit more time with his bride-to-be. Tonight, he’d convince her that he was also the logical choice for her. He could give her anything she wanted.
What are you looking for in a match?
Love.
Her simple, one-word answer came back to him now with an uncomfortable jolt. Well, perhaps he could not give her everything she wanted. But he’d do a good deal better at protecting her than her own parents, of that he was certain. And while all young ladies likely dreamed of love, he suspected Daisy would be sensible enough to appreciate all that he would be offering her in its stead.
As a duke, he offered her an excellent match, good social standing, a life that, while quiet, would offer her every advantage a woman might want. And he was convinced she’d be content with that arrangement, unlike his first wife.
But as he walked into the room, he caught sight of her standing next to her parents, smiling, that sweet open smile she wore so effortlessly.
His throat clogged for a moment before he cleared it, pushing that odd tight sensation back down. This wasn’t about feelings. This was a sensible decision based on compatibility.
He crossed the room, coming to stand with the Turleys. Lady Turley gave him a cool smile, clearly still smarting from his set down earlier in the day. He ignored the look, turning to Lord Turley instead.
“Good evening,” he tilted his chin as Lord Turley bowed, Lady Turley and Daisy dropping into curtseys.
“Your Grace,” Lord Turley gave him a warm smile. “It is wonderful to see you again. Excellent work on the pheasant hunt this morning.”
“And you as well,” he replied. He liked Lord Turley a great deal and he already owned a home close to where Daisy grew up. Two more reasons she was an excellent candidate. “We made an excellent team.”
Both Turleys gave him large smiles, but Daisy dipped her head, remaining silent.
He watched her but she refused to meet his gaze, her eyes remaining cast down toward the floor.
The lady of the house stepped forward, announcing dinner and the ladies began to assemble by rank to enter the dining room.
“Shall we?” Lord Turley asked, holding out his hand in invitation for Griff to proceed.
He stepped next to Daisy. “May I escort you into the dining room?”
He watched as her eyes widened, her lips parting in question. She’d be seated at the far end of the table, while he’d be next to their host. It was a statement of sorts to escort her in. But Daisy recovered, snapping her mouth closed and straightening her shoulders. “Of course, Your Grace,” she answered, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm. He warmed at her touch, liking the feel of her close to him.
“Have you recovered from your ride?” he asked. “Did you enjoy the rest of the hunt?”
“Yes and yes,” she answered, still not meeting his gaze.
He cocked his head to the side. How would he convince her his offer was valid, if she didn’t even look in his direction?
“Your Grace,” Lady Turley called from behind him. “We’re going to take a tour of the rose garden tomorrow.” She cleared her throat. “A much safer activity.”
He felt Daisy’s hand tense against his bicep. “How nice,” he answered, giving Lady Turley a perfunctory glance before his gaze settled back on Daisy.
“Would you care to join us?” Lady Turley asked, her voice rising in hope.
It was an excellent idea. If Daisy would only look his way. “I would be delighted.”
Daisy’s fingers tightened again and finally she looked at him, her lips parted in surprise. “Your Grace?” she asked in a soft whisper that he was sure only he could here.
“Yes?” he replied, shifting her just a bit closer.
She pressed her lips together. “You ought not to encourage my mother. She will get ideas… In fact, she already has them. I am quite certain.”
He gave a short nod. “Perhaps this bears further discussion.”
She gave her head a little shake. “It doesn’t. I can assure you. I just wanted to warn you that my mother is quite eager to see me matched.”
“Tell me,” he asked, bending his head lower. He was well aware of her mother’s matchmaking intentions. But he had other questions of his own. “How many siblings do you have?”
She frowned, her brow creasing the smallest bit. “Four, Your Grace.”
He nodded, certainty that he’d made the correct decision pursuing Daisy, filling his lungs. “Good. How many are boys?”
“Three,” she answered, tugging on his sleeve just a bit. “Why ever would you ask those particular questions?”
He leaned closer. “When the ladies retire to the music room, step out onto the veranda for air. If you walk to the left side there is a shadowed overhang.”
She gave her head a bit of a shake. “Why would I walk out into the night toward the shadows?” Her brow creased. “Do you always ignore questions to ask your own?”
He relaxed a bit, realizing he migh
t be approaching this the wrong way. He had a tendency to charge forward when he’d chosen a path. “There is something I wish to discuss with you and I would prefer not to be overheard.”
He watched as her teeth caught her bottom lip, subtly worrying the flesh. “Your Grace,” she breathed in, her other hand coming to his arm. “If we’re caught…”
“We’ll be quick and discreet. I just need a moment of your time.”
They entered the dining room and he led her to her seat at the far end. The assembly hushed to see the pairing and Daisy gave him a questioning glance as she took the chair he held out.
He bent down close to her ear. “Will you meet me?”
Her hands fisted into her skirt but finally she gave the most subtle of nods. “Yes,” she replied as he straightened away. “I will.”
Chapter Seven
This was surely a mistake.
“Someone was paying particular attention to you this evening,” Marigold murmured to Daisy’s left.
She ducked her head, but that did not stop the stares and the whispers that had followed in the duke’s wake.
“If you bend your head down any lower you will dip your nose in your soup,” Lily teased from her other side.
Daisy gave a grudging laugh as she lifted her chin. Lily was right, of course. It was not as though she could hide in the midst of the dining room. But what she wouldn’t give for a moment alone to gather her thoughts.
She’d gone into this evening with a plan.
Avoid the duke.
It hadn’t been an ingenious plan, but the beauty had been in its simplicity. She could not fall prey to her childish infatuation if she stayed far, far away from the dashing duke.
Childish infatuation? A voice seemed to taunt her.
Her childish feelings might have been responsible for her silly reaction upon first seeing him the prior evening in the ballroom, but the conversation they’d had today, the way they’d laughed and talked so easily, the way it had felt to be held in his arms…
A Duke for Miss Daisy: Sweet Regency Romance (A Wallflower's Wish Book 1) Page 5