Heart of a Duke 04 - Loved By a Duke

by Christi Caldwell

  “There is never a place for such unrestrained excitement in a polite, respectable lady’s life,” her mother replied.

  Her mother certainly believed as much. Daisy gave silent thanks that the proper marchioness couldn’t glean the true musings traipsing through Daisy’s head even now.

  Her lips pulled at the corners.

  Silence. It filled the Blue Parlor—thick, uncomfortable, and tense. But for the rustle of Daisy’s blue satin gown as she occasionally shifted back and forth on her feet and breaths of the handful of guests present, the room was otherwise silent. As it had been since the butler had shown Auric inside a short while ago.

  The lady’s guardians were quiet. The marchioness was beaming. And Daisy was, well bloody hell, he couldn’t tell precisely what the lady was. The smiling vixen waving boldly from her place at the window had become this subdued stranger the moment he’d entered the parlor.

  Did she sense that she had bound herself to the veriest bastard? A vile monster who, in his silence, would take choice from her hands? The muscles of his stomach clenched. I love you… God help him for being selfish and self-serving, but he wanted her even with the lies between them. Odd, he should have lived the better part of their lives failing to see her as anyone but Daisy, his small girl of the flowers; an obligation he had a responsibility to. Now, she was a woman he ached to possess in every and any way—body, mind, and soul. She deserved more than a marriage constructed from lies. He thrust aside the thick fingers of guilt clutching at him. He would be good to her. He would protect her and make her smile. In time he would tell her and then, perhaps, she could forgive him, even as he could never forgive himself.

  “You owe the lady at least some words. It is, after all, your wedding day,” the Viscount Wessex, friend, witness, and sharer of this sad collection of peoples’ dark past, whispered at his side.

  He glared at him. Except, Daisy chose that inopportune moment to glance up from her position at the floor-length window. She frowned at him in return and then shifted her attention to the streets below.

  “The very least you can do is stop glowering at the poor lady,” Wessex persisted.

  Heart pounding loudly in his ears, Auric took her in, framed as she was by the white damask curtain. God help him. “I cannot do this,” he whispered. Not with the lies between them. He took a step toward her.

  Wessex shot out a hand, gripping Auric by the forearm, halting his movement. He looked blankly down at the hard, gloved fingers. “You’ve moved well past that,” he gritted out the corner of his mouth, his hushed tone barely reached Auric’s ears. “If you do not do this, you will ruin her.”

  Not if Daisy herself was to call it off at this moment. The scandal would, of course, attract gossip, but her reputation would not be devastated. She’d find a gentleman worthy of her. A man Auric would hate with every fiber of his being until the moment he drew his last breath. But then, when you loved someone, you put them first. He started, staring at the graceful curve of her neck, the simple butterfly combs he’d gifted her six days? A lifetime ago? How could he have failed to realize until this moment, when he’d lose her, that she owned him in every way and that his heart beat for her and only her.

  “Do not.” There was something faintly pleading in Wessex’s entreaty. “Do not for the both of you.”

  He shrugged him off and started forward. Just then, a glint of silver caught his eye. Auric turned, taking in the wan, oft indisposed, Marchioness of Roxbury. Today, however, an uncharacteristic smile lined the woman’s lips. Yet for that smile, the same sadness that clung to her hovered about the woman’s narrow frame and even filled this room, on her daughter’s wedding day. Auric pulled his gaze away and looked to Daisy. She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet the way she’d done as a child, as though excitement thrummed through her being and sought an outlet. A woman of her spirit would ultimately be smothered here. No, he could not allow her to remain the lone, forgotten child of the late Lord Roxbury. Daisy deserved more. Even as he believed he would never be the more she deserved, he could not go through life knowing she was the lonely daughter of an oft-depressed mother.

  The vicar cleared his throat and the decision was made. “Shall we proceed?”

  It was a decision Auric would likely go to hell for, if he’d not already earned a spot in the devil’s flaming lair seven years ago.

  Daisy hovered at the window and for a too-long moment his heart hung suspended with the fear that she’d come to her senses and did not intend to move forward with her intention to wed him. Then, she crossed over and came to a stop beside him. The other guests took their places in the various seats scattered about the room. Auric fixed his attention on the vicar, who turned the pages in his Book of Common Prayer, all the while Auric’s skin burned with Daisy’s stare fixed on his person.

  The older man opened his mouth to speak, when Daisy spoke, her question carrying up to his ears. “Have you changed your mind?”

  He blinked.

  The vicar promptly closed his mouth.

  Auric swung his attention to Daisy.

  “For if you did, if you realized you do not love me,” I love you in every way a man can love a woman. She continued on a rush, her cheeks red. “If you realized that, then I’d set you free so you can find the woman whose heart you’d have.”

  Ah, God, she was far more honorable and good than he ever could be. Even loving him as she did, she would still set him away. Then, with the decisions he’d made in life, he’d long proven himself selfish and self-serving.

  The vicar removed his spectacles and made a show of cleaning them, making a concerted effort to studiously ignore the bridegroom and bride-to-be’s exchange.

  “How can you not know I love you?” he asked her softly.

  She sucked in an audible breath. “I—”

  He lowered his brow close to hers. “I’ve known you nearly all my life, and yet I failed to see that which was truly before me. I was incomplete in ways I didn’t know until I opened my eyes and at last saw you.” Just like that, the protective walls he’d constructed about his heart, the protective veneer of icy duke, lifted, as this truth freed him.

  Her lips parted.

  “Shall we proceed?” the vicar said politely, and their gazes swung as one to the smiling servant of God. As though he feared the couple would alter their decision to wed, he launched into verse. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, to join together this Man and this Woman in Holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God…”

  His reservations and fears lifted. For there, with Daisy in her blue satin skirts patterned in delicate daisies, Auric knew the bond between them was too great, their love strong enough that they would not be destroyed by the past.

  “…and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly…” The vicar’s words cut across Auric’s silent musings. His verses a taunting reminder of the lies and futility in his deliberately naïve hopes for him and Daisy. He studied her openly. Her gaze fixed forward on the vicar, a wistful expression on her face.

  Feeling his stare on her person, Daisy looked at him questioningly.

  “Therefore, if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace…”

  “I don’t see why I can’t join your conversation…” Daisy’s child’s voice filled the corners of his memories.

  The room echoed with the distant remembered sound of Lionel’s laughter. “Come, Daisy girl, stop prattling on, let Auric speak.” Auric opened his mouth to be the sole, sensible voice of protest, but then the ghost of his closest friend slipped from the room and the ceremony continued.

  Chapter 17

  Through the years, Daisy had all but forgotten what it was to dine at a lively, energized table. Th
ere had been a time when the dining room had peeled with laughter, hers and Lionel’s, while her mother moaned and lamented her hopelessly ill-behaved children. Since her father’s passing, breaking her fast and all other meals for that matter had been something of a solitary experience. When her mother was not indisposed, she was otherwise laconic and selfishly the weight of her mother’s misery had become so much that Daisy had deliberately avoided partaking in those meals.

  This meal should be different. A wedding feast was supposed to be a celebratory affair and yet it wasn’t. For all the joy of this day, her wedding day to Auric, his admission of love, and the promise of their future together, there was something quite humbling and painful in this breakfast with Auric, Marcus, and these other outside observers to her family’s private grief.

  Feeling a stare upon her person, she glanced up from her plate and found her uncle Charles and the current Marquess of Roxbury studying her with regretful expressions. She quickly returned her attention to her untouched dish. She’d long ago accepted that the curious stares and the whispers would forever be part of her life. Daisy and her mother and, when he’d been living, father had become something of an oddity. After all, it was not every day that a nobleman was knifed to death by a stranger in the street. Or, at least that was what she’d pieced together from whispers she’d once heard between her parents.

  Such crimes didn’t happen to members of polite Society. Or that was what the ton erroneously believed. Daisy however, had learned the truth. Dark, ugly things happened to all people. Being born of wealth and status did not make one immune to pain. Regardless of station or lot in life, you ached and bled and cried. In short, you suffered.

  Daisy picked up her fork and shoved around the untouched eggs on her dish. She made the mistake of glancing over in time to catch Marcus’ concerned stare. Her fork slipped from her fingers and clattered noisily upon her plate. She’d come to detest those pitying looks and regretful words whispered about her and her shattered family. She hid her hands under the table, folding them in her lap, fixing her attention back to the fare of eggs and cold ham and salmon upon her plate. Couldn’t this day be different? Couldn’t this small collection of guests smile and celebrate the way she wished? Perhaps it spoke to Daisy’s selfishness for on this day, the day she’d bound herself to Auric, she’d bury the memories of Lionel and loss and that long ago, dark night.

  When she’d been a girl, she’d longed for glorious, golden curls and a trim waist and something to set her apart, more than the odd freckles upon her cheeks. Now, she longed to be no different than any other woman. When she’d made her debut, she’d not aspired to the status of diamond of the first water. Rather, she just wanted to be ordinary and normal. Plain Daisy with her nondescript looks and her perfectly proper, polite mother.

  A large, warm hand settled over hers and she started. She swung her gaze up to Auric who, under the table’s concealment, stroked his heavy, reassuring fingers over hers. He held her stare a long moment and then, too quickly, the touch was gone and he drew his hand back. However, he only reached into the front of his jacket and withdrew the small daisy-etched quizzing glass. “Here,” he whispered against her ear. Under the table he pressed the delicate piece into her palm. Her skin warmed at the heat of his touch. “It seems your marriage to a doddering, old duke has quite turned you into a doddering duchess.” He tweaked her nose. “Your new rank appears to have affected your vision and you need some assistance seeing the contents upon your plate,” a gentle teasing humor threaded his words, and with that, a small laugh escaped her. A lightness buoyed her heart with the reminder that the person he’d been, a man who teased and jested and smiled—remained. He’d not died that night alongside Lionel. As though sensing her thoughts, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

  From Auric’s other side, Mother said something demanding his attention. He gave Daisy’s hand one more squeeze and then shifted his attention to the marchioness.

  “He’s not the same teasing, charming young man you recall of your past,” Marcus murmured.

  Daisy frowned and looked to the young viscount, seated on the left of her not knowing how to make sense of his cryptic words. “Perhaps,” she said noncommittal in her reply. Though in truth, just as she saw traces of the new man he’d become that her mother failed to see, so did she see glimpses of the grinning boy he’d been, a figure Marcus no longer saw. She absently toyed with the delicate, daisy-encrusted eyepiece Auric had pressed into her hand. “I think it is important to find the happiness we all carried, the uncomplicatedness of who we once were,” she said for his ears.

  Marcus settled his hands before him on the tablecloth. “I fear if you go through believing the simplicity of that thought, you’ll enter into your marriage to Auric idolizing the boy he’d been and failing to realize the honorable, devoted man he’s become.”

  The same stirrings of unease from three days past when Auric had strode up the steps to her townhouse, his expression curiously blank, rolled through her. “You think I’m wrong because I choose to see light and happiness?” she asked, unable to keep the thread of defensiveness from her tone.

  He lowered his voice. “I believe you’re wrong because you’ll never truly love the man he’s become if you continue to see him with the eyes of your past.” Marcus picked up his champagne flute and took a long, slow swallow.

  Daisy’s frown deepened as she tried to sort through that cryptic warning. “Is there something you’d say to me?” She’d never appreciated the veiled comments and innuendos favored by the ton, preferring instead stark honesty.

  The handsome young viscount inclined his head. “It is not my place to say.” He looked into the contents of his nearly emptied glass, seeming lost in thought. “It is my place, however to apologize to you.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Apologize to me?” Marcus had been about as interested in her as a young girl as a sinner showed interest in attending Sunday sermon. That disinterest had carried into her adult years. But for that he’d never wronged her. “You’ve committed no wrong,” she said quietly.

  A muscle jumped at the corner of his eye and he appeared ready to say something, but then the rakish, charming grin that had set too many hearts aflutter turned his lips at the corners. “Perhaps you know me a good deal less than you imagine.” His was a deliberate ploy to shift the conversation to something safer than the veiled warning he’d issued moments ago.

  Never one to take part in his flirtatious repartee, she only had a small smile for him. An inexplicable relief filled her when he turned his attention to neatly dicing up his cold salmon. His words and warnings of Auric and that faintly accusatory tone he’d taken in mentioning her naiveté clouded her thoughts, stealing altogether her ability to eat.

  She trailed her fingertip over Auric’s quizzing glass, running it over the rounded lens and the cold, firm, daisy-etched handle. She’d spent so many years believing herself jaded and cynical and world-wary. The loss of a sibling would do all those things to a person. So there was something humbling and almost embarrassing to be accused of looking at the world through the lens of an innocent who only saw sunshine in life.

  “What has you so uncharacteristically silent?” Auric murmured against her ear, calling her attention back.

  She wet her lips and thrust Marcus’ dark, cryptic warning to the distant corners of her mind. “I was just thinking how much I l—”

  Auric leapt to his feet so quickly, his chair scraped noisily along the wood floor. “A toast,” his deep, commanding baritone bounced off the walls, as he held his glass aloft.

  Daisy furrowed her brow. If she didn’t know better, she’d believe he deliberately tried to stifle the declaration on her lips. But then Auric glanced down at her, holding her gaze. “To my wife. May she always know peace and happiness.”

  The other guests raised their glasses in salute.

  She swallowed back a wave of emotion as the last of her reservations slipped away. Through the years, she’d grown to depend
on no one and rely on only herself. With the loss of her brother and father and the misery of her mother, Daisy had found herself alone. For so long she’d believed herself mature and capable, not needing any help from anyone. Yet, with Auric’s brief but telling toast, he’d reminded her—everyone, at some point or another, needed someone. And now she had him.

  Never before had Auric been more grateful for the end of a meal, than this his wedding breakfast. He and Daisy stood in the foyer amidst the smattering of guests. Servants bustled back and forth with the remaining items belonging to her.

  Frederick rushed forward with Daisy’s green cloak and helped her as she shrugged into it with a murmur of thanks.

  Tears flooded the old servant’s eyes and it occurred to Auric that since Lionel’s passing, the butler had become more of a devoted family member than perhaps Daisy’s own mother.

  The marchioness swept over and took Daisy’s cheeks between her palms. She managed a watery smile but no words. Instead, she patted her daughter gently on the cheek before turning to Auric. She captured his hands in hers.

  He stiffened at the warmth seeping from gray-blue eyes—Lionel’s eyes. “I’ve always loved you like a son, Auric.”

  The pit that had formed in his belly since he’d registered the implications in wedding Daisy despite the secrets between them grew to the size of a boulder. He was undeserving of the marchioness’ warmth and affection. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the show of emotion.

  As though remembering herself, the marchioness drew her hands back and let her arms fall to her side.

  “I will care for her,” he said quietly. Care for her when he’d not cared for the woman’s other cherished child.

  The muscles of Lady Roxbury’s throat moved. “I trust you,” she said quietly, unknowingly twisting that blade of guilt all the deeper.