The Duke Meets His Matchmaker (The Duke Hunters Club, #5)

by Blythe, Bianca

  Still, if Reggie knocked on the door, Daisy’s father would likely answer it again, and he would probably be no more enthusiastic about having Reggie see Daisy than he’d been last time. In fact, her father might be even more guarded.

  That certainly would not do.

  Reggie required a method to sneak into the house, one which did not involve meeting Daisy’s father. He wished the house had a separate servants’ entrance. Still, the servants would doubtless be disinclined to go against their master’s wishes. Some offenses were simply sackable, and Reggie had a horrible suspicion Daisy’s father might have a long list on what they constituted.

  Reggie glanced upward. Candlelight flickered pleasantly from a room on the second floor. Was this Daisy’s room? He inclined his head, hopeful to see her.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t see anyone.

  He eyed the façade, wondering whether he might climb it. Unfortunately, the façade was simple, a fact that probably elevated the builder’s pockets but which was most irksome now. Reggie favored the elaborate facades of a few generations ago, with their ample inclusion of statues, columns, and other manner of helpful climbing aids.

  A carriage rumbled over the street, then stopped. Reggie turned toward the carriage. Was it Daisy?

  The carriage was nicer than anything he would expect Mr. Holloway to own. A well-dressed driver stepped from the driver’s seat, then opened the door. A group of giggling women piled from the carriage, and Reggie widened his eyes.

  “Princess Aria? Miss Banks? Miss Thompson?”

  They beamed and waved. Finally, the surly-looking bodyguard slinked from the carriage.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Miss Banks said, in her broad American accent, “but we felt urged to join you.”

  “We had to see what happened,” Miss Thompson said.

  “It’s the most exciting thing in all of Bath,” Princess Aria declared.

  Reggie gave a wry smile. Things didn’t feel exciting. Things felt terrible. What if he’d miscalculated? What if Daisy didn’t love him? What if she’d asked her father to move them far away, since even the possibility of meeting Reggie outside the Roman Baths was painful?

  His heart ached.

  Still. He needed to speak with Daisy, no matter how painful it might potentially be. He needed to know whether there was any chance she would marry him.

  “I need to get inside,” he said glumly. “I think she’s upstairs.”

  An idea occurred to him, and he approached the bodyguard. “You wouldn’t mind me climbing on your shoulders, would you?”

  Some of the women squealed.

  “I am a Swedish warrior, not a ladder,” the bodyguard said sternly.

  “Er—yes,” Reggie said. “Of course. I-I shouldn’t have asked.”

  The bodyguard glowered.

  Inspiration struck Reggie. “After all, I wouldn’t want to injure your back or anything.”

  “I wouldn’t be harmed,” the bodyguard said. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

  “But he loves her.” Miss Banks fluttered her eyelashes. “It’s ever so romantic.”

  “I can stand on your shoulders,” the princess suggested, “then I can tell her to come to the window or make an excuse to go outside.”

  “Yes.” Reggie glanced at the bodyguard. “My shoulders are very broad.”

  “And muscular,” Miss Thompson observed, shooting them an assessing glance.

  The other women giggled.

  “The princess will not stand on anyone’s shoulders. Why, if you were to look up...” The bodyguard shuddered.

  “I won’t look up,” Reggie said. “I’m a gentleman.”

  Demon snorted. “You’re a duke. Dukes don’t need to be gentlemen.”

  Reggie decided not to use this time to challenge him on his prejudicial beliefs about the courteousness of dukes. Some dukes were gentlemen, and some, certainly, were not.

  “I shall be your ladder,” the bodyguard said in a self-sacrificing way. “Though if someone tries to attack Princess Aria, I will have to abandon that post.”

  “He means you would go splat on the ground,” Miss Banks explained.

  Princess Aria rolled her eyes. “No one is going to attack me. Everyone is far too protective.”

  “The world is perilous,” Demon warned.

  “You sound like my father,” the princess grumbled.

  “I’ll be quick,” the bodyguard promised, then stepped toward the window. Reggie followed him, then climbed onto the man’s shoulders.

  He pressed the window, and it swung open. He beamed. “Daisy?”

  Nobody answered, and he sighed. He called her name again, but no one answered.

  “What’s taking you so long?” the bodyguard grumbled.

  “She doesn’t seem to be here,” Reggie said mournfully.

  “Then you can stop standing on my shoulders.”

  Reggie climbed down, then glanced at the princess. “We need another plan.”

  EVERYTHING WAS ALMOST ready for their departure. Even Daisy’s trunk was fully packed. Daisy tried to pretend she was happy about the move and to tell herself she was excited and eager for new experiences.

  Yet her heart felt heavy, as if someone had transformed it to lead, as if it were eager to sink from her body so it might remain here. She couldn’t blame it.

  People had been carrying trunks from the house all day into the carriage Papa had hired for their impending trip to Portsmouth. From there, they would be able to sail to France.

  Somebody knocked on the door, and Papa rose rapidly, gave a nervous look toward Mama, then sprinted from the room.

  Daisy sighed. Lately, Papa was always answering the door. It was not the worst eccentricity to adopt, even if it was unexpected. Perhaps he was already practicing for having a smaller staff in France.

  Murmurings sounded on the threshold, and she tilted her ear, as if it might help her catch the identity of the newcomer.

  Her father reentered the room hastily, then turned awkwardly to the door. His cheeks were an uncharacteristic ruddy color. “You have a guest, Daisy.”

  Him. Daisy’s heartbeat fluttered.

  “It’s Princess Aria,” her father said.

  “Oh.” Daisy widened her eyes and pasted a smile on her face, pretending she was delighted to see the princess and not the least bit disappointed that the duke had not arrived.

  Her heart tightened. Clearly, Reggie had proposed in haste. She’d been right to dismiss the proposal. He hadn’t meant it. She’d known that. And yet a tiny part of her that she despised, a tiny part of her that gave her pain, had, despite everything, hoped he might appear.

  He hadn’t.

  Princess Aria had appeared, though, and Daisy greeted her unexpected guest.

  Her mother jolted up, and her knitting tumbled to the floor in a heap that would no doubt be difficult later to unwind. “Princess Aria.”

  The princess curtsied, and Mama lowered herself into a curtsy. When Mama rose, her cheeks were also red, and Daisy wasn’t certain whether it was because of the sudden activity or the embarrassment of having a princess unexpectedly enter their small townhouse.

  “How nice to see you,” Daisy murmured.

  “Yes,” the princess said shortly.

  Daisy glanced at her mother. “Perhaps the princess would like some tea and sweets?”

  Mama nodded multiple times, then scurried from the room.

  Papa remained in the room, and Daisy cleared her throat. “Perhaps you would like to write some letters in your study?”

  Papa hesitated a moment, then sat in an armchair opposite Daisy. “Nonsense. I have time for some tea and cakes.”

  Daisy’s stomach fell. Papa never stayed in the room when she had friends over. When she lived in London, her friends often visited her house, and Papa had never seemed to mind or display any interest in their conversations.

  She’d wondered if she’d imagined whether Papa had been spending more time with her than normal. He was
always answering the door. Was it possible the duke had tried to visit, and Papa had sent him away? Or more likely, perhaps Papa had been hopeful the duke would arrive, but he never had.

  Daisy swallowed back a sour taste in her throat and pasted a smile on her face.

  Mama soon arrived, followed by Mrs. Powell, who carried a tray of sweets and tea. Mrs. Powell set the tray onto the table.

  “How—er—nice to see you, Princess Aria,” Mama said.

  The princess gave a tight smile.

  A moment of awkwardness descended upon the room. Daisy wished her parents weren’t here.

  “Do you like England?” Mama asked valiantly.

  “So-so,” the princess said.

  “Well, I don’t blame you,” Papa said.

  Mama leaned toward the princess. “We are moving to France.”

  The princess glanced at Daisy. “Are you accompanying them?”

  “Of course she is,” Papa said. “Where Daisy goes, we go.”

  “Ah...How intriguing.”

  Personally, Daisy didn’t find the fact very intriguing. She found it misery inducing. She’d always imagined she would be reunited with her dearest friends–Margaret, Juliet, Genevieve, and Portia–when they and their husbands returned to London for the Season.

  I was too late.

  She swallowed hard. If only she’d had the idea to become a matchmaker earlier. If only she’d managed to form a career and reach independence. Then perhaps she could have found a room to rent in London with Mrs. Powell.

  Now she would always be confined to staying with her parents, no matter where they desired to live.

  “So when will you go?” Princess Aria asked.

  “Tonight,” Mama said.

  Princess Aria blinked and set down her tea hastily. “It seems I am intruding on your time.”

  “Oh, truly you aren’t,” Daisy said. “Everything is packed.”

  “Your presence is a welcome diversion,” Mama said in a reassuring voice. “We are pleased to have you here.”

  Princess Aria shuffled her legs. A look of discomfort descended upon her face. She shoved her unfinished tea onto the table and rose hastily. Tea splattered onto the table, and the princess widened her eyes and hastily dotted it with a handkerchief.

  “That’s not necessary,” Mama said.

  “Yes, we are moving,” Papa said blithely.

  “Right.” Princess Aria curtsied. “Daisy, perhaps you would like to join me for a carriage ride?”

  “That’s not a good idea,” Papa said.

  The princess glowered at Papa. “You object?”

  “He didn’t mean that,” Mama shrieked, doubtless horrified that Papa had rejected the desires of a princess. “Of course, dear Daisy will be delighted to go on a carriage ride with you.” She glared at Papa. “I’m certain the princess will be careful.”

  “Good.” The princess glided from the room before Daisy’s parents could even bow and curtsy. Daisy followed her out the door.

  “I’ll help you get into the carriage,” Papa said.

  The princess turned in the foyer, and her normally placid expression appeared perturbed. “That’s not necessary. My bodyguard is quite strong.”

  “I’m her father.”

  “But I want my bodyguard to remain strong,” the princess said. “Lifting her into the carriage is the perfect exercise for him. He requires his exercise.”

  “You wouldn’t want her to die because her bodyguard loses his strength?” Mama asked Papa.

  “O-of course not,” Papa stammered, but he had a forlorn expression on his face, and Daisy suspected he might not be entirely happy he’d called Mama back.

  Daisy followed the princess to the main door. The princess called for her bodyguard, and soon she was being carried into a carriage.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The bodyguard placed Daisy in the carriage, slid the wheelchair inside, then closed the door abruptly. The princess followed her inside, and the carriage jolted to a start. Buildings swept past her, and Daisy’s heart ached, pondering that she might never see them again.

  Then the carriage stopped.

  In the next moment, the princess rose, then left the carriage.

  Daisy blinked.

  In the moment after that, the door opened.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Holloway,” a sultry voice she said.

  Daisy’s heartbeat quickened, and the duke poked his head inside. She stared.

  He was truly here. Happiness moved through her before Daisy remembered that nothing had truly changed. Perhaps he’d been courting the princess, just as Daisy had encouraged him to. Why else would the princess be at her house?

  “What an unexpected pleasure, Your Grace.” She forced a smile on her face. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “You’re in a carriage by yourself.”

  “Er—yes,” she said awkwardly.

  “I thought you would have learned not to do that.”

  “I doubt anyone will try to kidnap me again.”

  “Oh?”

  “There’s no public house,” she said. “And no ferocious men.”

  “You don’t find me ferocious?” His eyes glimmered, and he entered the carriage and sat opposite.

  The air was suddenly thick and hot.

  Most people would inquire where she was going. The duke simply stared at her, his eyes shimmering, as if he knew a delightful secret.

  “What are you doing?” Daisy’s eyes widened. “This is the princess’s carriage.”

  “The princess has kindly lent it to me.”

  “Oh.” Daisy stiffened and braced herself to learn he was newly betrothed to the princess. She would be happy for him, because she wanted the best for him, but her chest tightened all the same.

  The carriage started to move, and the horses plodded pleasantly over the tile stones, oblivious to the lurching of Daisy’s heart.

  “I thought we could go somewhere to speak,” Reggie said lightly.

  “Papa won’t like it.” Daisy glanced anxiously toward her townhouse.

  “Then we’ll have to act quickly.”

  “Reggie?” Daisy exclaimed.

  “I like it when you call me by my given name.”

  “You’ll get into trouble,” Daisy protested.

  “The worst thing that can happen to me is being separated from you.”

  Daisy blinked hard.

  “Halt!” A door banging sounded, and footsteps sounded.

  Daisy’s stomach sank, and she turned her gaze toward the townhouse.

  Papa was running toward them. “Halt! Halt!”

  Papa’s voice boomed, and other people stopped in the street to stare. People pushing wheelbarrows paused, and nurses moving people in Bath chairs halted. Even the horses turned toward Papa, as if flummoxed by the loud baritone voice barreling about them.

  “Do you really want to leave England?” Reggie asked, evidently undaunted by Papa’s significant vocal ability and definite instructions that allowed for no misinterpretation of his desire.

  “No,” she admitted.

  “Ha.” Reggie grinned.

  Daisy’s eyes widened. “You have to say more than ‘ha.’”

  “What’s wrong with ‘ha?’” Reggie asked. “I think it describes the situation perfectly.”

  Daisy wanted to giggle. But Reggie couldn’t simply take her away. Not without telling her why.

  Memories of the ball inundated her. For a moment, despite the swaying of the carriage and noises outside, she was in his arms again. For a moment, everything was perfect, and he was lowering his head down and kissing her and....

  Her heart thudded, then she remembered that had been in the past. For all she knew, Reggie had procured a special license for him and the princess to marry and was eager for her to witness their happiness. After all, Reggie hadn’t visited her. Not once. He hadn’t even written her.

  Unless...

  Papa had been quite vigorous in his sudden adoption of door
answering duties. Was it possible Reggie had tried to see her? Her heartbeat quickened.

  THE CARRIAGE STOPPED at Reggie’s townhouse, and he bundled Daisy in his arms. “I couldn’t have you leave.”

  She frowned. “You’re not supposed to take me away.”

  “Would you like me to return you?”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “Good.” He held her against his chest. Daisy was here, in his arms, and he carried her into the house.

  Alistair rushed toward the door. “Your Grace.” He gazed at Daisy, and his eyes widened.

  “My future duchess,” Reggie announced. “See that you bring her chair inside.”

  “Very well, Your Grace. And might I most heartily congratulate you, Your Grace.”

  “I haven’t received a proposal,” Daisy said.

  “Just leave the chair outside the bedroom door,” Reggie said. “I have a proposal to get to.” He gave Daisy a stern look. “This time, I want a different answer.”

  Alistair’s eyebrows jolted up, but his lips stretched into a wide smile. “Very well, Your Grace.”

  Reggie strolled through the foyer and carried Daisy up the stairs.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He smirked. “I thought that would be evident.”

  She rolled her eyes, but her eyes sparkled, and Reggie was certain everything would be fine.

  “But what about the women?” Daisy asked. “You’re supposed to get married.”

  “I have every intention of doing that.”

  “To one of them.”

  “Ah.” Reggie shrugged. “Well, that won’t happen.”

  “You can marry the princess.”

  “I don’t want a princess,” Reggie said. “I want you.”

  “But the money—”

  “I’ll sell my castle.”

  Daisy smiled. “I can make inquiries of Beatrice Thompson’s father.”

  “I have no doubt we’ll find a solution.”

  Daisy’s smile disappeared. “But a duke never sells his castle or estate. It’s unthinkable.”

  “Well, I just thought of it.” Reggie smiled. “It’s not linked to my title, and I’ve never been beholden to rules in the past. I’m not going to start now, not if it means I can’t spend a lifetime with you. I’ll use the funds from the sale of my estate to improve the townhouse in London. I’ll make sure there’s plenty of room for you to maneuver your chair around and absolutely no stairs.” His brow furrowed. “Unless you don’t want to live in London?”