Auric frowned. “Not here?”
“Not here,” the man echoed. A flash of concern filled the man’s rheumy eyes. “She’s gone,” he coughed into his hand, “shopping.”
“Shopping,” he repeated dumbly, knowing he must sound the total lackwit and yet, as long as he’d known Daisy Laurel Meadows, which was, the entire course of her existence, the lady had long detested shopping.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Frederick confirmed with a nod. “Shopping.”
Auric furrowed his brow. The only enjoyment she’d found in it as a girl was when he and Lionel had taken her to the bazaar and purchased a collection of small soldiers for the small girl forced to secretly play with the little figures, after her proper mama had denied her the pleasure.
Frederick cast a glance about and then returned his attention to Auric. “If I may be so bold, Your Grace—”
“You may,” he said briskly.
“The lady has gone off.”
“Gone off.” He knew he sounded like one of those parrots so favored by the bored ladies and gentlemen of the ton. “I believe you said the lady had gone shopping.” But Daisy didn’t shop.
“But she did go shopping, Your Grace.” Concern roughened the man’s tone. “She’s gone to Gipsy Hill.”
Unease filled his belly and Auric opened his mouth, but then promptly closed it lest he repeat the servant’s words once again. Gipsy Hill, on the outskirts of the fashionable part of London, Daisy had no place being there. He tamped down a curse. “Has she brought a chaperone?” he bit out, because God help her if she didn’t, he would blister her ears when he found her.
“She brought her maid.”
Her maid? Yes, he would do a good deal more than blister the lady’s ears for such recklessness. “Thank you, Frederick,” he said curtly.
The servant drew the door open. A blast of wind blew through the entranceway, slapping Auric’s face with drops of rain. “Thank you, Your Grace,” the butler said quietly.
He paused and looked questioningly back at him.
“For watching after her,” he clarified. “Lord Lionel would have been grateful,” Frederick said and then closed the door.
With furious steps, Auric stormed toward the street, the man’s flawed words trailing after him. Lionel would not have been grateful. Why, in death, Lionel surely loathed Auric for having brought him to that sin and not being the one to care after Daisy, as she should be cared for.
“Gipsy Hill,” he ordered as he reached his carriage. The liveried driver pulled the door open and Auric climbed inside. What business did the lady have in that unfashionable part of London? He searched his mind, thinking of the girl he’d known these years. He’d not believed Daisy motivated by the frills and fripperies that drove the ladies of the ton, and yet how well did he truly know her, now? The soldiers she’d once played with had since been replaced with an embroidery frame. All these years he’d come calling, he’d gone through the motions of a visit but not once had he noted the truth—Daisy was getting older. His frown deepened. No, she was no longer a girl and he no longer knew the lady’s interests. With the exception of that embroidering business.
The driver flicked the reins of the conveyance and it lurched forward. As Auric’s carriage rumbled through the crowded London streets, he peered out at the thick, gray clouds and small beads of rain which beat against the windows. The weather perfectly suited his mood and only reinforced the absolute madness in the lady being out with nothing more than a maid’s escort for protection. A growl built low in his chest, filled by a fast-moving fear of the implications of her being at Gipsy Hill, unprotected.
Despite the chilled air and his gloved hands, his palms dampened as he was thrust back into the horrors of his past. At one point in time, Auric had been a self-absorbed bastard who’d sought the thrill of dancing on the edge of respectability. He’d forced Lionel into the underbelly of London, and for Auric’s selfishness, that one faulty decision had cost Lionel his life, dead in a whore’s bed with a worthless street thief’s blade buried in his belly.
It had also cost Daisy her one and only brother. All the implications of her being out alone slipped into his mind, chilling him with the prospect of a wide-smiling, freckled Daisy cut down in an equally vicious fashion. Nausea churned in his gut. If anything were to happen to her, he would not forgive himself. It would be the ultimate betrayal, which could never be atoned for.
The memories now came hard and fast—of Lionel, lying in a pool of blood, staring sightlessly up at the water-stained ceiling. Except, the image shifted and it was Daisy alone in that room with some faceless stranger. An agonized groan worked its way up his throat, nearly choking him. He banged hard on the ceiling. “Faster, man,” he thundered. The carriage increased its pace, barreling down the cobbled streets. Onward.
He stared blankly at the occasional rider passing by and the wagons and carts lining the cobbled road of Gipsy Hill while he searched for Daisy.
The sharp whinny of a horse jerked his attention across the street. As his carriage rattled along, he peered outside, squinting into the distance, just as the wind whipped a young woman’s hood from her head. Auric narrowed his eyes on the riot of brown tresses and a shock of freckles. He pressed his forehead against the crystal windowpane and knocked once on the roof. The conveyance rocked to an immediate and jarring stop. He braced his feet upon the floor and then shoved the door open and leaped from the carriage. A loud screech split the noise of the busy streets and howling wind. An eerie chill snaked down his spine, sucking the life from him. Time froze in an agonizing moment, his world stilled as Daisy barely escaped being trampled under the enormous hooves of some fool’s black mare.
His pulse pounding hard in his ears, Auric raced down the cobbled road. He dodged between carts and carriages while blood pumped furiously through his body. Distantly, he registered the icy cool of the thick puddles penetrating the heels of his boots and the now blinding drive of rain. “Daisy,” he barked, the call lost to the furious wind battering his cloak. The young lady blinked several times as though dazed. By God, he’d never forgive himself if she were hurt. His life would be eternally dark without her in it.
Auric closed the distance between them in just a handful of strides.
Rain matted her hair and ran in steady rivulets down her pale cheeks. She glanced up and then stared at him. With her brow furrowed in consternation, she tipped her head as though trying to place him, which was of course foolish. He’d known her since she’d been a babe and carried her throughout the marquess’ estate atop his shoulders. “Auric,” she greeted with a smile.
At that easy grin, a confirmation that she was unhurt, his heart resumed a normal beat.
He fed his annoyance, preferring that sentiment to the cloying fear at discovering her here, alone in the streets. Auric, she said? As though they were meeting amidst a ballroom or in a drawing room and not in the muddied, dangerous streets of London. Fury replaced the mind-numbing fear from moments ago and he stalked the remaining distance to her. Her eyes widened, perhaps in fear? Good, she should be fearful. He fed his ire. “What are you doing out here in this weather, unchaperoned, in this part of London, my lady?” Rain blurred his vision and he angrily swiped away the drops.
“I’m shopping.” She planted her arms akimbo. “The better question would be, what are you doing here, Auric?”
“Returning you home.”
“Oh, no you’re not.” She winked once.
She was having a splendid time, was she? “This is not a game,” he gritted out. The lady didn’t realize she risked life and limb coming here.
“I never said it was,” she said on a beleaguered sigh. She narrowed her eyes. A suspicious glint lit their brown depths. “And for that matter, Your Grace, how did you find me here?” Daisy wrinkled her nose. “Are you spying on me?” Which suggested the lady was engaging in activities that merited him spying on her. He swiped a hand over his face. God help him. He could manage his estates in a way that saw hi
s coffers abundantly full. He could command a room of peers to silence with a single look. He was not, however, equipped to handle this older brother business. “Well?” she prodded, annoyance in her tone.
Auric lowered his arm to his side. “Frederick was very enlightening.” Because the old servant clearly had more sense than Daisy and her mother combined.
“Traitor,” she mumbled. Then, she gave a toss of her damp curls. “Regardless, I’ve important business to see to.” With that, she turned on her muddied heel and started down the road.
Auric remained fixed to the spot, blinking several times in rapid succession. By God, had she just wandered away from him? In this weather? Unchaperoned? In this part of London? With a growl, he stalked after her. “Lady Daisy Meadows, by God if you do not stop I will toss you over my shoulder and remove you to my carriage.” He planted himself in front of her and halted her forward movement.
She stopped. Which was good. Because he really didn’t want to do anything as barbaric as tossing her over his shoulder. Which he would do if he needed. But he’d still rather not. Not with Daisy. Nor any young lady for that matter. But especially not Daisy. For all the sins he was guilty of, he cared to leave off any further ones that involved Daisy and, most especially, any outrageous acts that involved his hands upon her person.
Rain ran in a steady stream around them, like crystal teardrops upon her cheeks. But then she smiled, the one splash of joy in an otherwise cheerless world, and for a brief moment, he forgot the terror that had dogged him since Frederick had announced the lady’s plans to visit Gipsy Hill and any annoyance. “What were you thinking going out without an escort?” he asked, when he at last managed to form words.
“I have an escort.” Daisy looked around. A frown tugged her lips downward and then she lifted a finger up. “Ah, here she is.”
As if on cue a young woman in a serviceable, brown cloak came tearing down the street. “My lady, we need to go. It is—” She skidded to a halt at the sight of Auric and fell silent.
He returned his attention to Daisy. “That is not an escort, my lady.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Indeed, she is.”
Auric took a slow, steadying breath and counted to five. “No. No, she is not.” She was a young maid who didn’t look strong enough to stand upright in the howling wind knocking into them now.
A chill stole through him at the idea of all manner of danger that could have befallen her.
“What manner of madness has befallen you to come here alone, Daisy?” he asked, slipping with formality. Her mother would do to not let her from her sight for the rest of the Season, or better yet, until she was wed and firmly enfolded in some gentleman’s protection.
Except, then he imagined her with some bastard of a husband who didn’t deserve her, and then he would feel a whole new onset of guilt for the absence of her brother who’d have seen to the very important detail of securing a match for his…for his…
Daisy muttered and proceeded to rifle through her reticule.
He furrowed his brow. “What are you doing?”
She continued to dig around the inside of her pale yellow satin bag.
“Daisy, I asked what you are—?”
Her head shot up and her smile widened. “Here.” She handed a small silver object over to him.
Auric accepted the delicate piece. “A quizzing glass?” He alternated his gaze between Daisy and the fragile item.
She pointed to the quizzing glass. “I imagine if you can’t see Agnes standing right before you to know I’m not, in fact, alone, well then you need this even earlier than I’d imagined you would.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Daisy?”
“Yes, Auric?”
“Get in your damned carriage. Now.”
Daisy opened her mouth to protest when thunder rumbled in the distance. She jumped. Unfortunately, landing her slippered feet into the fast rising puddle between them. She glanced forlornly down at her soaked hemline. “You know, this is really all your fault.”
If he weren’t so concerned with getting her safely ensconced within her carriage he’d have dearly loved to hear an elaboration on her reasoning behind that. “I assure you, for all the power I do possess, I cannot make the skies thunder.”
Her mouth formed a small moue of surprise.
He leaned down, so close he detected the hint of honey and lavender that clung to her. “Did you imagine I forgot your fear of thunder and lightning?”
She wrinkled her pert nose. “I am not still afraid of thunder and lightning.” As if to prove her as a liar, lightning cracked the thick, gray sky and a little shriek escaped her.
He grinned, tucking her gift into his pocket. A real smile, the first he’d managed in more years than he could remember. It was hardly appropriate for an unwed young lady to give an unwed gentleman, who was not a relation, a gift. But this was Daisy. “Liar.”
“That didn’t startle me,” she said, wrinkling her brow. “It…” He arched an eyebrow. “It…” She sighed. “Very well, I may be still just a slight bit frightened. A very slight bit,” she added when his smile deepened. “But more than anything else I was startled by the lightning. As most people would be. Startled by lightning,” she added as though he were a total lackwit who couldn’t have pieced together what she’d suggested. A damp, brown tress fell over her eye and she blew at the strand. Alas, the sopping lock remained plastered to her forehead.
His hand shot out of its own volition and he brushed the lock behind her ear. “There,” he murmured.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m escorting you to your carriage.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary. Isn’t that right, Agnes?” she directed toward her maid.
The wise maid had the good sense to remain silent.
With a silent curse, Auric reached for Daisy’s wrist and placed her fingers on his sleeve. The maid, Agnes muttered a quiet prayer of thanks and started toward their carriage. “I expect your mother will be furious,” he said out the corner of his mouth. Daisy of years ago would have had proper fear of her mother’s admonition.
“You would be wrong,” she muttered.
He snorted. Young Daisy Meadows had seemed to be the bane of her mother’s existence. The poor marchioness had shaken her head in lamentation so many times, he and Lionel had jested that the woman surely walked around in a perpetual state of dizziness from the movement.
He recognized Daisy’s black carriage. The driver hopped down from the top of his perch and pulled the door open. Auric looked down at Daisy. “I expect you to use more common sense, my lady, than to go out shopping in this Godforsaken weather. I can’t imagine some frippery is worth risking your life for.”
“You’re wrong.” Something flared in her eyes. “It was important. Is important,” she amended. “And I’ll not make apologies to you for being out in the rain, Auric. I’m no longer a child, nor am I a woman who answers to you.” Her chest rose and fell with the force of her emotion, drawing his gaze downward to the generous swells of her breasts crushed beneath the rain-dampened fabric of her cloak.
No. At some point, these past seven years, Daisy had become a woman. A beautiful woman. Auric swallowed hard and forced his gaze to her face.
“Is there anything else you’d say, Your Grace?”
Ah, so she was Your-Gracing him now? Good, this was safe. He could deal with tart charges and angry “Your Graces” a good deal better than he could Daisy’s abundant breasts and generous hips. “I caution you to use better judgment, my lady.” He took her hand to help her into the carriage.
Her lips pulled in a grimace of discomfort.
Auric looked down. He turned her hand over and, with a curse, gently tugged off her delicate, now shredded, kidskin gloves. An angry, red bruise stood vivid, a small scrape with a thin line of blood intersected her palm. Nausea turned in his gut and he closed his eyes a moment counting to three to drive back the horror of the past that converged wit
h the present. The sight of blood did and, he suspected, forever would, transport him to that horrific day.
“Auric?” Her tentative questioning pulled him back to the moment.
He swallowed back the bile in his throat. “Bloody hell, Daisy,” he growled. He yanked a kerchief from the front of his coat. “Why didn’t you say you’d been hurt?”
“It is just a scrape,” she said softly.
Most other young ladies would have dissolved into histrionics at the sight of blood and bruises. Not Daisy. Then, the girl who used to bait her own hooks when fishing her father’s well-stocked lake had never been squeamish. He used the edge of the fabric to wipe free the dirt and tiny shards of pebbles lodged in the delicate lines of her palm. She gasped. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. He’d rather lob off his right arm than cause her any more pain. He froze mid-movement, guilt ravaging his conscience as he considered the greatest agony he’d already caused her.
“What is it?” Her whisper-soft question jerked him from his reverie. “You’ve gone all serious.”
His expression grew shuttered. “I’m always serious.” He’d not always been.
“Yes.” She shook her head. “But this is different. Your lips are—”
“Here.” He hastily wrapped the cloth about her hand. It wouldn’t do for them to be discovered in the streets of Gipsy Hill with Daisy talking about his mouth, or any part of his person. “Now, take yourself home, Daisy, and have more of a care in the future.”
“But—”
He tossed her up into the carriage.
She peeked her head out. “Auric—”
He closed the door.
Daisy jerked the red velvet curtains back and glared at him.
And, if the driver hadn’t just then slapped the reins and set the horses into motion, he didn’t doubt that Daisy Meadows would have climbed right back down and told him exactly what she thought of his high-handedness. His lips pulled up in a slow, unfamiliar grin. He stood there, as her carriage disappeared down the road, a faint, black mark in the gray horizon, his cloak soaked from the unrelenting rain.
He’d not realized until this moment just how much he’d missed smiling.
A Heart of a Duke Collection: Volume 1-A Regency Bundle Page 90