But thinking of gardens and flowers brought his thoughts back to Daisy.
He lengthened his stride, eating the ground between him and the house. He passed by the music room and stopped for a moment. Peering through the windows, he easily found Lady Turley. But the chair next to her was vacant. Daisy wasn’t there.
His brow drew together as his gaze swept the room. There was no sign of Daisy. Where could she have gone?
Waving his hand in dismissal, he assured himself it didn’t matter. Turning away he entered the house by the kitchen and then made his way to the third-floor smoking room where the men still gathered.
He needed to speak with Merrick.
Griff was determined to leave this party with a wallflower wife and he’d have one. It was just a matter of redoubling his efforts. Daisy’s rejection just meant that she was not the woman for him. After all, he was looking for a sensible young lady.
And any lady with sense would have understood what an honor and privilege it would be to marry a duke. He was offering his new bride more wealth, power, and prestige than most could even imagine, but what did Daisy want?
Love.
Her voice filled his head and made him pause mid-step. She’d told him outright what she wanted in a husband. The girl was waiting for a fairy tale. A love match.
She’d rejected his offer for something as fickle and fleeting as love.
Obviously she did not think she could feel something like that for someone like him.
He tried to ignore the way his chest ached at the thought. After all, she was right to assume he could not give her that. He would give his bride-to-be anything she asked—jewels, gowns, even the appearance of affection. But his heart would not be part of the bargain this time around.
The girl could have had the world in the palm of her hands and all she wanted was romance. He growled under his breath as he reached the door to the smoking room. Romance, indeed.
Merrick lifted his head as Griff entered, a cigar resting between two of his fingers and glass of brandy clasped in his other hand.
He leaned back in his chair, one foot balanced on his other knee, looking relaxed as could be. Griff grimaced. If only he could find that contentment.
He gave his head a shake. He surely would be happier once he’d gotten the task of finding a bride behind him.
Crossing the room, he stood in front of his friend. “I need to speak to you.”
Merrick raised his eyes, his brows rising with them. “You look rather...tense. What’s happened?”
“Nothing has happened.” He tossed himself into the chair next to Merrick. “Unless you consider not getting married something.”
“What?” Merrick’s brows knit in confusion. “What does that even mean?”
He closed his eyes trying to order his thoughts. The words stuck in his throat as he pressed his fingers into his closed eyes. “Daisy rejected my marriage proposal.”
Merrick was silent but he lightly tapped the side of his glass, the even tink of his fingernail tapping the crystal marking the passing several seconds. “That seems...odd.”
“Indeed,” he answered. Which was a lie. It wasn’t odd at all. It made perfect sense. For all the reasons Annabelle had hated their marriage, Daisy, less driven to be a duchess, had just outright rejected him for the same. “But the fact remains, I shall need another candidate. And not that Mary or Marigold, or whomever. Too messy.”
Merrick titled his head to the side, his neck giving a crack. “Have you considered slowing down just the tiniest bit?”
“What?” It came out harsh. Deep. Rumbling.
Merrick did not appear intimidated. “Well first, you can take a week to choose a bride. You’ve waited this long. Another week won’t hurt.”
He frowned, his brows drawing together. “I don’t need your advice.” But inwardly he cringed. That thought held some merit.
“Then stop asking for it,” Merrick replied, taking a sip of his brandy.
Griff made a sound of dissent deep in his throat. “You are rather sanctimonious, you know that.”
Merrick’s glass dropped, hitting his leg and sloshing liquid all over the knee of his trousers. “What did you just say?”
Griff leaned forward, wincing. He’d upset his friend. He needed to gain control of himself. Clearly, he wasn’t communicating well today. “I didn’t mean it. Apologies.” He took a deep breath and swallowed his pride. “Would you please help me find a bride?”
Merrick stubbed out his cigar, setting his glass aside. “Fine.”
“Thank you.”
“But we need to discuss Daisy first. She was a wallflower until this past season. Never courted. Did it occur to you that she might need more than one single day of courtship before she consented to marriage? She’s new to this and likely intimidated.”
Griff scrubbed his face. Had she not said those very words? Or nearly? She wanted romance, she’d said. And a single kiss might not have been enough.
He winced at the reminder. But the fact stood, he wasn’t interested in a long courtship filled with romantic gestures. “Even if you’re right, that is not what I came here for.”
Merrick drew in a long breath. “Very well. I’ve got another girl in mind.”
He sat up in his chair, his fingers raking through his hair. Why did his mind pick that particular moment to remember the way Daisy’s lips had clung to his? How her hands had held his coat as though he might hold up her and the entire world. “Who?”
Merrick grabbed his brandy and took a large swallow. “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Just meet me at the rose garden at two in the afternoon.”
“Rose garden?” His stomach twisted. “That isn’t the planned tour is it?”
“Of course,” Merrick said, picking up his cigar and attempting to relight it. “That’s what those events are for. Lords and ladies mingling, talking...a chance to get better acquainted with guests of the fairer sex.”
He scowled at his friend. But Daisy was to be on that walk. “I told the Turleys—”
Merrick dropped the cigar again. “You’re the one who is in such a rush.”
Griff rubbed the back of his neck, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Well. Do you want to meet her or not?”
“Fine,” he spoke through his gritted teeth. “Make the arrangements.”
Merrick lit his cigar once again, giving a single nod of assent. “If it pleases His Grace.” Then he let out a sigh. “Would it make you feel better if I escorted Daisy? That way, she won’t be left alone. There will be no chance for her mother to foist her on you or vice versa.”
He made a fist against his thigh as his jaw tightened. He hated the idea of Merrick tucking Daisy’s hand in his elbow.
But he pushed the feelings back down, with a small shake of his head. Daisy wasn’t his. She’d made that abundantly clear. “Good idea.”
Merrick raised a single brow but didn’t respond.
Griff rose from his chair once again, crossing the room to stand by the fire. While he knew he’d only followed the plan, he found his stomach twisting and turning. What had he just consented to?
And while Daisy’s rejection had hurt him far more than he cared to admit, he couldn’t help but worry that what he was about to deliver a far worse blow. He might not have been well versed in the ways of courtship, but he suspected one did not move on from one prospect to the next quite so quickly.
It likely was not done.
But time was ticking, and he was at this blasted house party for one reason and one reason only. The sooner he found his future bride, the sooner he could return home and end this torture.
If Daisy didn’t want to be his bride, then he’d find a woman who did. It was that simple.
Chapter Nine
Daisy still wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. One moment she was being kissed by the Duke of Dolan and the next she was watching him fawn all over Miss Pearson.
“Her hat is gaudy,” Lily whispered.
Daisy shot her friend a look. “It is not.”
Lily’s lips pursed as if she wished to disagree but could not. She and Marigold followed her gaze and all three of them were watching the duke make a scene as he drooled all over the pretty brunette.
Miss Pearson’s hat was tasteful, proper, and perfect, just like the young lady herself.
“Oh dear,” Marigold said softly.
She could not drag her eyes away from the scene before her to look at her friend. “What is it?”
Marigold touched her arm. “You have clearly been spending too much time with His Grace. His scowl seems to be infectious.”
Daisy huffed.
“Are you certain he proposed to you last night?” Lily asked. “He does not look like a man who proposed last night.”
Daisy did not respond but she saw Marigold elbow their friend out of the corner of her eye.
“What?” Lily asked.
“Do try and be sympathetic,” Marigold scolded under her breath. “It is not every day one rejects a duke.”
Daisy’s scowl intensified. It felt...odd. She wasn’t used to frowning so much but she’d been unable to do much else ever since she’d run away.
Running away like a ninny. She huffed again. It was beneath her. It was certainly less than what the duke deserved.
It might not have been the most breathtaking proposal of all time, but she was not so daft that she did not see the honor he’d done her by asking her to be his duchess.
Even now the breath rushed out of her at the thought.
But that awe and amazement vanished at the memory of her response.
To run.
She’d run.
She, Miss Daisy Merriweather, had run away like a child.
Shame rose up in her and for a moment it overshadowed every other sensation. The sickening anger that had been roiling in her belly ever since she’d come across the duke and his...his...well, she was not quite certain what Miss Pearson was to him, but it was clear that at the very least—she was the center of his attention.
He hadn’t looked away from her once since this group had gathered.
She’d expected to see him, of course. Her mother had invited him on this tour to accompany their family. She’d just been preparing for a completely different experience. One where they awkwardly fumbled through some explanation of last night.
She’d never expected to have to watch him fawn over another woman while joyously parading through the garden. That might have been a bit of an exaggeration. But really, he hardly struck her as the type of man who wished to pass his day touring a garden.
Magnificent and beautiful as it might be, she had no doubt that the duke would find such a tour tedious, at best. She’d imagined a life with him would include having to cajole him into having fun, teasing him into laughter the way she’d done on their walk together.
A surge of unexpected emotions had her blinking back tears.
She clenched her hands into fists at her sides. Anger. Anger was much easier to deal with. She narrowed her eyes at the duke who was so unfeeling as to go from proposing one evening to courting another the very next day.
She turned her gaze to the perfect, proper, and no doubt graceful Miss Pearson. Did she make him laugh? Had she convinced him to take a moment to stop and smell the roses?
“Um, Daisy?” Marigold’s tone was tentative.
“What is it?” She may or may not have spoken through gritted teeth.
Lily cleared her throat when Marigold failed to respond. “You’re growling, dear.”
Daisy blinked and looked over at her friends, who were watching her warily and not without a good amount of pity.
Lily shifted closer. “You might want to stop glaring at His Grace and Miss Pearson.” She glanced over at Daisy’s mother meaningfully. “Not if you wish to keep your parents blissfully ignorant of the fact that you turned down a proposal by a duke.”
She winced at the mere thought of having to explain her decision to her mother.
Her mother would never understand.
How could she when Daisy hardly understood herself? All she knew was...that kiss had turned her world upside down. One moment she’d been standing—dazed and confused by the suddenness of the duke’s marriage proposal—and the next she’d been reeling, lost in sensations so sweet she forgot herself.
She lost herself.
And when the kiss ended and reality returned, she knew. She just knew. Any more kisses like that and she would be lost for good. Her heart would be his for the taking. A life of tepid companionship with a gentleman she respected but did not adore—that she could handle.
But a lifetime of unrequited love?
She shuddered at the thought.
It would break her.
But try explaining that to her excessively pragmatic mother. Or worse, her father. All her parents would understand was that their daughter had the chance to make the match of the decade and she’d thrown it away because of sentimentality.
They would never forgive her.
“How can we help?” Marigold asked.
She glanced over at her friends, realizing belatedly that her gaze had drifted back to the duke. “I do not think you can.”
“Nonsense.” Lily’s voice was filled with all the brazen confidence that made her so uniquely Lily. Her chin was tilted up with determination as she peered over at the duke. “There must be something we can do to help you feel better about the way things ended last night.”
Heat burned her cheeks as she bit her lip. Daisy had told her concerned friends everything last night when they’d cornered her in the hallway on the way to their rooms.
Well, she’d told them about everything…except for the kiss.
She’d needed to talk through his proposal and what he’d said—her mind was still trying to wrap itself around that reality. But when it came to that kiss...she hadn’t been able to talk about it.
Or maybe she just hadn’t wanted to. No matter what had happened after, the moment he’d held here in his arms had been precious. A memory she knew she would treasure for the rest of her life.
A once in a lifetime occurrence.
She shut her eyes to keep ridiculous tears at bay. She’d cried herself to sleep last night and woke this morning with the resolution that she would shed no more tears over an infatuation that should have ended with childhood.
“Don’t you think you will feel better if you talk to him?” Marigold asked.
Daisy fidgeted. Perhaps she would. After all, her own pain over realizing he would never love her the way she could love him...that almost paled in comparison to the shame she felt over the way she’d rejected him.
Foolish girl. She ought to have explained. She should have swallowed her pride and told him how she felt. Instead, she’d run away.
Worse….
She had a memory of the look in his eyes when she’d told him she would not marry him.
Not hurt, necessarily. It wasn’t pain, but he had looked...stricken.
That look had been haunting her ever since. She’d tossed and turned all night thinking of what she ought to have said. She really should have given him an explanation. He deserved at least that much.
“I suppose I should talk to him,” she said. “But how? He’s…” She pressed her lips together with another huff as she glanced over to confirm that he was still doting on the lovely Miss Pearson. “He is otherwise engaged.”
“Is that what you’re worried about?” Lily asked. With a wave of her hand she started toward the attractive couple. “Marigold and I will handle that.”
Marigold and Daisy hurried to keep up as Lily strode toward the duke. Marigold shot Daisy a quick wide-eyed look before turning to Lily. “We will?”
“We will.” Their threesome had no sooner reached the duke and his companion when Lily was calling out, “Miss Pearson! There you are. I am so pleased to see you this morning. Miss Mary and I have so many questions for you about your new charity project.”
Daisy stopped at his side, clasping her hands in front of her to keep from fidgeting as she glanced up at the duke’s impassive expression.
He eyed her steadily. “Good morning, Miss Merriweather.”
“Good morning.” Her heart was beating so furiously she could barely manage that. Memories from the night before threatened to drown her and she found her gaze dropping to his lips before she could stop them.
She now knew how they felt pressed to her own and she knew without a doubt that she would remember that sensation until the day she died.
“May I help you?” His dry voice had her head snapping up, her gaze clashing with his.
Gone was any of the warmth she’d spotted during their walk the day before. None of that dark passion was there either. His eyes were slightly mocking, like he was cynically amused by her silent state.
With each passing second she grew aware of the sound of Lily’s chatter to her left. Her questions could only last for so long. Her time to speak was limited.
“Your Grace, I wish to apologize for—”
“No need.” He looked away as he interrupted so he likely did not see her look of surprise.
“Yes, but the way I—”
“There is nothing to apologize for, Miss Merriweather,” he said. “It was a simple misunderstanding.”
His voice was so cold it made her shiver, but when his gaze finally landed on her, ice ran through her veins.
“A…misunderstanding?” she asked.
His nostrils flared for a moment but that was the only indication that he had any emotions at all. His voice was smooth and even. “Yes, a misunderstanding. I’d thought for a moment there that perhaps we would make a good match. But it is clear I was mistaken.”
Her mouth went dry. She’d been the one to reject him, but right now… Her chest ached so badly she forgot how to breathe.
Right now it felt like he was breaking her heart.
A Duke for Miss Daisy: Sweet Regency Romance (A Wallflower's Wish Book 1) Page 7