Heart of a Duke 04 - Loved By a Duke

by Christi Caldwell

  Auric scanned the crowded streets and then his gaze collided with a riot of dark brown curls and a familiar cloak. The vibrant, green fabric served as a bright splash of color amidst the rainy day. With a black curse, he wheeled his mount to a halt, and then leapt to the ground. He motioned a young boy over, all the while keeping his gaze on Daisy.

  The boy sprinted over. “Guv’nor?”

  “Watch after him for me,” he instructed. He withdrew a purse of coins and tossed it to the lad who caught it with an effortless grab. “There will be more when I return.”

  The young boy puffed his chest out and stood in wait with Auric’s horse.

  Auric started after Daisy. He frowned as she carefully stepped over a particularly substantial puddle and looked about for a tall, powerful footman. He growled. Bloody hell, she’d not even had the sense to add a servant for protection. Did she not realize a coachman left at the lady’s carriage served her little good? Not when there were vicious, unscrupulous bastards about.

  Just then, Daisy paused beside an enormous wagon and gestured to her neck. An old gypsy woman with stringy hair shook her head once and Daisy moved on. This time, she stopped at a cart belonging to a man of nondescript years.

  With a growing rage, Auric lengthened his stride. He’d grown so accustomed to people taking his words as a ducal command that when he’d handed Daisy up into her carriage yesterday, he’d not even considered the fact she’d disobey his order—an order he’d made, intending to protect her. He quickened his stride as she continued. “I should have spoken with her mother,” he muttered under his breath, earning curious stares from the men and women hawking their goods. His boot sank into a dank puddle and he ignored the chill seeping through the leather of his once gleaming Hessians.

  Because if he’d spoken to the marchioness, Daisy would be safely ensconced away within the security of her home or, at the very least, in the presence of a chaperone who’d have sense enough to bring the lady to North Bond Street where all young ladies shopped. He stopped at the opposite side of the street, directly across from Daisy. Well, not all young ladies, as Daisy’s presence indicated. The sensible young ladies, anyhow.

  Auric stepped onto the cobbled road just as Daisy shoved back her hood. He froze as a beam of sunlight stole through the bilious grayish-white clouds. The ray of sun kissed her creamy skin and touched on her silken, brown tresses loosely arranged at the base of her neck. A gust of wind tugged a strand free and it slapped her cheek. She laughed at something the vendor said and brushed the tress behind her ear. His breath stuck in his chest. And he, who’d only before seen blonde saw the world in shades of russet.

  Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express’d

  In russet yeas and honest kersey noes.

  Another threatening storm cloud swallowed the sun, just as a carriage passed by, and yanked Auric from the momentary spell she’d cast. The world resumed spinning. And with it, annoyance, a far safer sentiment for Lionel’s sister, chased away his momentary lapse in sanity. Auric glanced left and then hurried across the street.

  Daisy tugged her cloak closer and then continued on. He started after her, quickening his stride. She stopped alongside another large, wooden cart littered with fabrics and fripperies and said something to the vendor, an old woman with white hair. With crooked, wrinkled fingers the gypsy sifted through some of her wares. Daisy’s brow creased and she shook her head.

  Then the old woman shifted items around the top of her small cart. She held up a necklace. Daisy took the gold chain. She turned it over in her hands and then shook her head, handing it back to the woman. What was the reason for that forlorn little shake? Did she not have enough funds? Did she seek something more extravagant? Neither of those suppositions fit with all he knew about her.

  He folded his arms and drummed his fingertips over his forearms. Perhaps he knew her a good deal less than he’d thought. For the spirited, young girl he’d once known would not have risked all for a piece of jewelry. The romantic woman who believed—He stilled, as his thoughts churned along with infinite slowness and then sped up with a frantic speed he tried to sort through. A romantic woman, who believed in love, however, would risk her safety and come out alone without the benefit of a chaperone.

  With the distance between them, he still managed to detect those lush, red lips turning up in a smile. An insidious thought slipped into his mind—of some bounder, the gentleman she likely even now came to meet, claiming that mouth, exploring it…

  Rage that felt very much like jealousy coursed through him, licked away rational thought, until he saw, felt, and breathed green. He grappled for control. The idea of him being jealous over Lady Daisy Meadows was preposterous. Auric had an obligation to Lionel and that was the sole reason for this mind-numbing fury. Daisy clearly had little care for her safety, but Auric owed this much to Lionel. Yet, why did the desire to take apart the nameless suitor with his bare hands remain? With fury in his steps, he strode over to her, closing the remaining distance between them. He planted himself behind her. “What have we here?”

  A startled shriek escaped Daisy as she spun around. She shot a fist out, connecting with a solid punch to his nose.

  He blinked as blood trailed a path down his lips. By God, she’d punched him. His stomach pitched while the thick, sticky blood seeped from his nose.

  “Auric!” The horrified shock stamped on Daisy’s face drove back all remembrances of that gruesome night. “My goodness, you startled me.”

  And he knew he must look like the very biggest lackwit, but standing there, blood pouring from his nose, Auric grinned.

  Oh, blast!

  Daisy slapped a hand over her mouth. Her heart still hammered from the shock of Auric’s sudden, unexpected appearance. “I punched you,” she blurted. And then registered the crimson drops staining his fingers.

  Auric fumbled around the inside of his cloak and withdrew a kerchief. He pressed it to his nose and flinched. “Indeed,” he drawled, sounding far more humorous than the situation warranted.

  The old vendor held out a small scrap of fabric. Daisy collected the cloth from the old woman. She caught her lower lip between her teeth as a wave of guilt flooded her. “I’m so sorry,” she said on a rush. And she was. But still… “You startled me.” A man hadn’t any business going about sneaking up on a lady, either.

  He continued to hold his embroidered kerchief to his injury. “You deliver quite the punch, my lady. Gentleman Jackson himself would be impressed by your efforts.”

  Daisy plucked the bloodstained kerchief from his fingers and stuffed it into her reticule. She handed him the one given her by the gypsy. “Lionel,” Daisy supplied. She fished around her reticule and handed several coins over to the old woman who took the small fortune with wide-eyes. When Auric’s eyebrows dipped, she clarified, “Lionel taught me. He said all ladies should know how to properly defend themselves.” As though he’d somehow known he’d not be there to see to that role himself.

  “I do not believe Lionel imagined you requiring such skills while shopping.” He dipped his head close to hers. “Without a chaperone. Again.” His breath fanned her lips with a delicious scent of brandy and mint. The sensual masculinity of him washed over her and warmed her through.

  Her lids fluttered as, for one span of a heartbeat, she imagined he intended to kiss her, here, in the muddied streets of London for all to see. Which was really rather foolish because the proper, powerful Duke of Crawford would never do something as scandalously wonderful as kissing her, Daisy Meadows, in the streets of London, for all to— “Daisy?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you have something in your eye?”

  Her eyes flew open and her skin burned at the odd tilt to Auric’s head as he studied her. The vendor held over another cloth. “Er…” She waved off the gesture. “No.”

  His chestnut eyebrows dipped further.

  “Er…that is…I do not have anything in my eye.” Only, how else to explain the silly fluttering of h
er lashes. “Or I may have,” she said on a rush, her mouth moving faster than her mind. “But no longer. I think I quite managed to…” Stop talking, Daisy Meadows. Stop talking. Her words trailed off as he continued to study her around the stained fabric of his cloth. “I’m all right,” she said on a sigh. The wind tugged at her cloak and she pulled it close.

  “What are you doing?” he asked somberly.

  She lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. “I’m shopping.” It was true. Granted, it was no mere frippery she sought.

  “The Daisy I remember loved riding astride and spitting and cursing. She detested shopping.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. Is that how he still saw her? As the small, bothersome child who’d dogged his and Lionel’s every step. And yet, he was right. A woman grown now, she still detested going shopping. With her plump frame, she’d tired of the modiste’s tsking about her generous proportions.

  “What is so important that you’d come out without an escort, Daisy?” His low baritone rumbled from his chest.

  Had his tone been disapproving and condescending, she’d have turned on her heel and ignored his question. But it wasn’t. Instead, it was gentle and insistent all at the same time. “I’m looking for a necklace.” After years of being relegated to the role of the forgotten, surviving child, there was something warm in knowing someone cared and was concerned.

  He stuffed the bloodstained yellow fabric inside his cloak. “A particular style of necklace?”

  She’d learned long ago to be suspicious of too many questions from Auric. Daisy eyed him cautiously. “Perhaps,” she said noncommittally. She braced for his stern ducal displeasure.

  His lips twitched in a manner reminiscent of the teasing young man she remembered. “That is vague.” He folded his arms at his chest. And waited. And because she’d witnessed firsthand the strength of his obstinacy over the years perhaps better than anyone else, she also knew he’d stand there until the night sky slipped across the horizon many hours from now.

  “Very well.” Daisy rocked back on her heels. “It is a heart pendant.” She put her fingers together. “About this big, and gold with slight etchings upon it.”

  Auric glanced up and down the street at the endless rows of wagons and carts littered with peddlers’ wares. “And you expect to find this heart?”

  “I do,” she said softly. She had to find this heart. For, according to Lady Anne and the lady’s sisters, to find it would mean Auric’s heart. The foolishness of such thoughts did not escape her, and yet…she still needed to believe, in something: a pendant, Auric, the dream of them. To not have this small hope she would find herself empty, with nothing. She braced for his cool grin and mocking words. He said nothing for a long while and she shuffled back and forth on her feet. She really wished he’d say something—even if it was a coolly mocking response about the futility of her search. Anything to this silence. She cast a glance about and located her maid. Agnes moved quickly among a row of carts, dutiful in her search. Daisy looked once more to Auric.

  He held out his elbow.

  Daisy tightened her jaw. She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not leaving, Auric. I’ll not allow you to hand me into the carriage like I’m a recalcitrant child. I’m a grown woman and—”

  “Daisy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Take my arm.” His smooth, refined tones gave no indication as to his thoughts.

  She eyed him warily. For surely he was as perturbed with her this day as he so often was. “Why?” She’d not be tossed unceremoniously into her carriage as he’d done yesterday.

  The ghost of a smile played on his lips. “You’ll need help looking for this necklace.”

  Her heart paused. “What?” She hated the breathless quality to her voice.

  Auric motioned to the wagons along the edge of the cobbled road. “I’d not forgive myself if I left you to your own devices hunting for a floral pendant amongst the endless number of carts.”

  He wanted to join her. “It’s a heart,” she whispered. Surely it was an obligatory protectiveness on his part toward her and yet, he did not rush her back to her carriage as he’d done at their previous meeting. Instead, he remained.

  He waved his elbow.

  With a smile, Daisy placed her fingertips upon his coat sleeve. They continued down the street.

  “A heart, you say?”

  She nodded.

  “What is so special about this particular necklace?”

  Everything was special about the Heart of a Duke pendant. Her fingers tightened reflexively about his sleeve. She kept her gaze trained forward, lifting her hem as they stepped around a particularly deep puddle. “Well, it is…” She searched for words. “Beautiful.” As she’d never before seen the necklace she couldn’t say that with any real certainty. However, she knew what it foretold and for the fable surrounding the famed necklace, that in itself made it beautiful.

  He stopped beside a cart. Daisy disentangled her arm from his and walked the perimeter of the wagon scanning the assortment of items. “Alas, I don’t see your heart pendant.”

  She picked up a small quizzing glass and peered into the delicate lens. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten your quizzing glass, Your Grace?” Auric’s visage blurred before her single eye, his crooked grin moving in and out of focus.

  “Can oi ’elp ye foind anythin’ fer yer lady, yer lordship?”

  The quizzing glass slipped from her fingers with a soft thunk. “Oh, no. I…”

  Auric sifted through the man’s goods. He held up a pair of hair combs, with a red, filigree heart etched at their center. “We shall take these.” He retrieved a sovereign and tossed it to the wide-eyed vendor. He grinned, which displayed an uneven row of stained and cracked teeth. The duke handed over the combs. She eyed them studiously, wetting her lips. The impropriety of even being discovered here with him, alone, would be ruinous, to be seen accepting a gift would be disastrous. “Take them, Daisy,” he urged.

  She took them, trailing her finger over the heart ornamentation at the center of each intricate piece. A heart. Not the fabled piece whispered about by ladies eager for the title of duchess. This great symbol that revealed itself time and time and time again, a necklace, her horrendous embroidery frames, and now…Auric’s gift.

  He stuck his elbow out once more. “Now, on to find the necklace to match your hair combs.”

  Daisy fiddled with her reticule and dropped them inside. As she took his arm once more, the skies opened up, pouring rain down. Blast, damn, and double damn. She stole a glance up at the bilious clouds overhead.

  Auric leaned down. Her heart started as he pulled the hood of her cloak back into place. “I’m afraid the weather does not intend to cooperate with your efforts to find this particular necklace.”

  She glanced across the street toward where her maid hurried toward them. With a sigh, she allowed Auric to guide her back to her carriage. They moved quickly through the street.

  Her coachman waited with the door opened. Agnes scrambled inside the carriage.

  Daisy lingered, loathe for the moment to end. “Thank you, Auric,” she purred.

  He inclined his head. The steady rain soaked his chestnut hair and proceeded to run in rivulets down his eyes, his aquiline cheeks, and hard mouth. And yet, despite that, he remained wholly elegant, coolly beautiful. This is what Poseidon, that great and powerful Greek God of the sea, would look like when he emerged from the underwater depths. She sighed.

  “Daisy?”

  He really was quite magnificent. “Yes, Auric?” More than any man had a right to be.

  “Unless you care to die of chill, I suggest you get inside the carriage, my lady.” With that, he all but tossed her inside.

  As the driver closed the door behind her, she peered out at his retreating frame as he made his way across the street to his own waiting horse. Daisy rested her chin in her hand and smiled.

  Chapter 7

  Daisy ran her fingers along the edge of the wrinkled,
crimson stained handkerchief she’d stuffed into her reticule earlier that day. She studied the initials stitched in gold upon the fabric. In her first quest to locate the Heart of a Duke pendant, she’d instead found herself with injured palms, a red nose, and a handkerchief belonging to Auric, but no necklace. Seated at the edge of the bed, she stared wistfully down at the slip of cloth in her hands. Though not the fabled bauble, the embroidered cloth belonged to Auric and for that, it mattered. Daisy raised his kerchief to her nose and froze mid-motion. She groaned and dropped her head back. “I am a pathetic miss.” She’d gone and become one of those mooning sorts.

  A knock sounded at the door. She yanked her head up swiftly. “Yes?”

  Her maid poked her head inside the room. “The marchioness is awaiting you in the foyer, my lady.”

  With a sigh, she stuffed the cloth under her pillow. “Thank you, Agnes.”

  The maid nodded and ducked back out of the room.

  Daisy rose from the edge of her bed in a flutter of green satin skirts. She’d been dreading Lord and Lady Windermere’s casual dinner party since last year’s dinner party and the year before it. Come to think of it, she’d always hated those intimate gatherings with her parents’ stiffly proper friends.

  Yet, for the manner in which the marchioness had retreated from the living, she somehow roused herself for her small, intimate circle of distinguished friends. Perhaps she felt closer to her past that way? Those friends, however, either failed to see or care that the smile worn by the marchioness was, in fact, false.

  Daisy moved quietly down the hall, her footsteps muffled by the thin, mauve carpet. Shortly after Lionel’s death, when she couldn’t manage another teardrop, she’d wondered how many days would need to pass before she felt like she could breathe again. Wondering if she’d ever be able to laugh or smile, or move again without feeling like she would splinter into a thousand million shards of broken pain.