by Emma Kaye
“I appreciate your confidence, but I fail to see my way out of this. There’s only one man I—” She cut herself off. Should she tell Daniel what she truly wanted? She knew she could trust him. He’d kept many of her secrets over the years.
Well, if she wanted to keep Ben a secret, she was too late. Daniel’s eyebrows raised in inquiry. He’d heard her slip. “Only one man...” he said, encouraging her to continue.
She sighed. “Yes. There is one man I would consider. But I’m afraid Father and Mother would never accept my choice.”
“Is he some lord’s by-blow? Can’t have another bastard in the family now, can we,” he said, a bitter tone to his words.
She glared. “Don’t you dare. Mother and Father love you. They have never treated you poorly and you know it.” Daisy hadn’t even known her brother was illegitimate until she heard the rumors while at Miss Pennington’s School for Young Ladies. She’d gone to Daniel and he’d explained how their father had been in love with another woman when his parents arranged his marriage to their mother. He’d continued that relationship long past his wedding. When his paramour died in childbirth, he’d acknowledged Daniel and brought him home.
At that point, their mother had already suffered the loss four babies, and feared she’d never have a child. She agreed to raise Daniel as her own. Daisy was born two years later. Daniel was tolerated by society since his father recognized him. That didn’t mean they were always kind or didn’t whisper behind his back.
One of the many reasons Daisy was not a fan of attending events among the ton.
He sighed, leaned against the wall, and let his head fall back against the wood. Milly pushed against his side, likely hoping to find an apple or sugar cube in his pocket. “I know. I apologize.”
“Then what has you in such a foul mood?”
Most days he didn’t seem to mind the way society looked at him, but others...
“It’s nothing. And don’t think I don’t recognize you trying to distract me from the fact you have yet to reveal the name of the ‘one man’ you’d be interested in marrying.”
“I could ever be so lucky.” She crossed the aisle and stood on Milly’s other side, the filly forming a barrier that let her hide. Easier to say the words without looking Daniel in the face. She wasn’t entirely sure what he would think about her confession. “Have you met the solicitor Father hired?”
Daniel laughed. “Chapman? Surely you jest.”
She stepped back and glared, affronted at his unexpected reaction. “He is a wonderful man.” They had strolled through the gardens often in the past few months. She frequently sought Ben out when she was convinced she couldn’t stomach one more dance, one more one-sided flirtation, one more leer... Ben had been there and seen her through it all.
“I thought you were going to name Mason or Reid. Some rake who set your head spinning but would never come up to scratch.”
“And you think Mr. Chapman incapable of…of…” She twirled her hand in a spinning motion near her cheek. “Setting a woman all aflutter?” Because Ben certainly had that effect on her.
“He’s most definitely not what comes to mind when I think of a ravisher of women.” He grinned.
“Ben would never. He is a true gentleman. Not like the awful old men Father thinks I should marry.”
Daniel sobered and stepped forward to take her into his arms. “I shouldn’t tease you. Far be it for me to lecture you on who to love.”
Ah, so that was what bothered him today. While Felicity and Lord Marberry had not announced an engagement, their match was a foregone conclusion among the ton. Daniel had likely overheard someone talking about the match of the year.
“Do you have any wise words of advice, dear brother?” she asked. She could sorely use them.
“All I can say is that a proper marriage has not brought happiness to our dear parents. If you think this Chapman fellow can make you happy…”
She returned his hug, fierce determination coursing through her.
Daniel was right. Her parents had everything society deemed essential and yet they were never truly happy. She’d describe them as resigned. They accepted their lot in life.
Daisy couldn’t do the same. She’d had a glimpse of what true happiness could bring. Mr. Chapman—Ben—could give that to her. And for the first time in her life, she was determined to do what was right for herself. No matter what anyone thought.
She just hoped Ben felt the same.
Chapter Four
Ben tried to focus on the papers before him, but couldn’t drown out the voices filtering through the hallways of Worthington Manor. He did not know what they argued about, but the tone was angry. Lord Worthington was not pleased with his daughter.
Ben couldn’t understand how that was possible. Daisy—Miss Worthington—was perfect. How could her father ever find fault with her? Ben would do anything to see a smile light up her beautiful face.
He snapped the quill in his hand as the voices rose.
“You will not defy me,” Lord Worthington shouted. “We will leave for London in two days’ time. I expect your decision to be made before we leave. If you don’t decide on your own, I will choose for you.”
He couldn’t distinguish her quieter tones, but a few seconds later, a door slammed and the rapid clacking of heels made their way down the corridor.
He shuffled papers on his desk, picked up something at random, and pretended to be engrossed in his work. Daisy was a deeply private person. She would not be comfortable he had overheard her argument with her father.
The door burst open and Daisy stormed in. He’d never seen her in such a rage. He’d witnessed her joy, her sadness, even her temper, but he’d never seen her in such a state.
She paced back and forth across the room.
What a sight to see. Hands clenched into fists, color high on her cheeks, chest rising and falling rapidly…
Damn, she was gorgeous. And so much more. She was kind, talented, generous…
And completely unavailable to him.
He had to stop thinking about her. If he were a wise man, he would end his employment with her father and cease seeing her on a regular basis.
Being around her every day played havoc with his senses. Each day he got to know her a little more and fell deeper under her spell.
He loved her. But he could never have her.
“Is it foolish to wish to marry for love?”
He jerked his head up. Daisy stood in front of him, her head tilted at a quizzical angle, a tight frown creasing her lips. How long had she been staring at him while he was lost in thoughts of love?
“Not in the least.” Foolish was to believe if she were free to marry for love, she would choose him. “But love takes time and consideration. Your father is not an unkind man. He seeks your happiness.”
“Then why does he insist on marrying me off to some boorish old reprobate so I will live the rest of my life in service to society’s whims?”
He raised a brow, fighting off the grin threatening to take over his expression. “Is that what he’s doing?” Ben had reasons of his own to dislike Daisy’s suitors, but old men? Lord Worthington had gone out of his way to find men who were attractive, wealthy, and decent. Much as Ben tried, he could not condemn any of the gentlemen. Each and every one could give Daisy everything she could ever want. Among them a place in society Ben, a man without a title, could never give her. She put no stock in such things, but he knew their importance.
Her mouth twisted in a mulish frown and she nodded.
Ben leaned back and scratched his chin, trying to look thoughtful. “Hmm. Yes, I suppose. Lord Allen is quite the rake, and Lord Campbell must be four-and-twenty, if he’s a day. I see. Yes. Horrible, horrible.” Given that Lord Allen was a rather shy man and it was not uncommon for a gentleman of the ton to wait until his thirtieth year to marry, he had a difficult time keeping a straight face.
For a few moments, he thought she might pick up the glass paperweight w
eighing down a stack of papers and throw it at him, but soon a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and her hands unclenched.
“Perhaps I’m not being entirely fair in my description.” She fussed with the vase of fresh flowers on his desk, moving them about until the arrangement was more pleasing to the eye. “I could use a bit of fresh air. Walk with me? You can tell me more about why I should fall in love with one of these men my father insists on imposing on me.”
“I would be honored.”
“I shall return momentarily. The weather is quite chilly and I will need my spencer. Shall I have someone fetch your greatcoat?”
He glanced out the double doors into the snow-covered garden. “No, I shall be fine for a quick walk. I’m afraid I have quite a lot of work to do and will only be able to accompany you on a short stroll.” Truth be told, he was almost finished with his work here and should head back to his quarters in the village before full dark settled in. But after the fight he’d overheard, he knew Daisy would need someone to speak to. And he couldn’t resist being the one who listened.
Even if that meant advising the woman he loved on who she should marry.
“How did Lady Fletcher find her painting? I assume she was pleased?”
“My agent assures me she was.” Daisy should suggest they return to her drawing room. The tips of Ben’s ears and nose had gone red with cold, but she feared he would end their conversation when they did.
So far, they’d discussed every one of her suitors. Except for Lord Webb, whom they both agreed was a rake of the worst order, Ben had something pleasant to recount for each one. Why was he so determined to help her find a man she could accept? Confusion warred with the pleasure she felt in his company.
“You didn’t deliver the painting yourself? I find it fascinating you are able to maintain your anonymity when all of the ton is clamoring to find out who you are. How did all this begin?”
His question pleased her. He seemed genuinely interested and impressed with how she managed. She had no idea how any of the men her father suggested as possible husbands would react, but she suspected admiration would not be included.
“We were on holiday in Bath. My parents were busy with the usual social whirl and late nights led to late mornings. I have never enjoyed sleeping late. The morning light is wonderful for painting. So, each day I would slip out to Sydney Gardens to paint or draw and be home before my parents even knew I’d been up and about.
“One day, a rather portly gentleman remarked on the painting I had just finished. His wife had taken quite a liking to it and sent him forward to make the purchase.”
“And you’ve sold every painting since?”
She laughed. A warm glow spread through her at his assumption her success was instantaneous. “Not even close. I was outraged at the very idea and told him the painting was most definitely not for sale. That would be too shocking. I assumed that would be the end of it. But the next day, his wife came back. She convinced me to sell and her husband has been my agent in all sales since.” She’d formed a friendship with the lady as well. “They take a minor percentage as recompense for their assistance. It has been a good partnership.”
“And how did you come to be known as ‘The Flower’?”
“I used to paint a heart made of daisies in the corner of all my work. That one I sold to Lord and Lady Matthews had it. But I feared that might lead people back to me, so I decided to make the heart out of a different type of flower each time.”
“Hence, ‘The Flower’.” He nodded.
His movements were getting rather stiff and he’d stuffed his hands into his pockets while hunching over in a posture she’d never seen on him before. Yet he said nothing about returning to the warmth inside. She took it as a sign he was as reluctant to leave her company as she was to leave his.
“You poor man. Here I’ve been blabbing away and you without a coat. We’d best go inside so you can finish your work.” She couldn’t allow him to become ill because she selfishly wished to continue their conversation. She cared for him too much.
“Yes, I believe that would be best.”
They picked up their pace and took the most direct route back to her sitting room. She would have taken him to the nearest door, which led through the herb garden into the kitchens, but he resisted the tug on his arm and led them back through the door from whence they’d come. He was probably right in it being best they not parade through the house together.
There was nothing clandestine in their walks. They were in full view from several rooms in the manor. Ben took pains to avoid the more private paths that would take them out of sight of the servants. Taking a stroll through the gardens in this manner was perfectly appropriate.
Even so, if her parents thought the two of them were getting closer than was seemly, especially given she was steadfast in refusing to pick a suitor, they might seek to keep them apart in order to thwart the possibility of a love match.
Well, they were too late. She had given it much thought and she was most definitely in love.
They hustled into the room and Daisy led Ben straight to the fire. Through her grip on his arm, she felt tremors begin. He had grown colder than she’d assumed. How selfish she’d been to keep him outside for such an extended period of time.
She spied a blanket draped across the back of a chaise and snatched it up to wrap around his shoulders. He made to protest, but she stilled his hands. “Nonsense. I kept you outside in the cold much too long. We must get you warm immediately or I fear you will catch an ague.” She wrapped the length of wool around him, tucking it under his chin and securing his arms at his side.
The temptation was too great as he gazed down upon her ministrations, his face so close to hers, the warmth of his breath across her forehead. She kissed him.
She’d never kissed a man before. Outside of a schoolgirl fancy here or there, she’d never wanted to.
But, oh, how she wanted now.
The first touch of his lips lit a fire within. She’d never felt such before.
He gasped in surprise. She thought he would pull back, perhaps even find offense in her boldness. Instead, after an initial pause, he groaned and pulled her to him.
Ben should push her away. That would be the right thing to do.
He didn’t.
Instead, he pulled her closer.
Just this once.
This one time, he would allow himself to take what he wanted, to accept what was offered freely by the woman he loved.
Her lips were gentle and soft, but there was no hesitation in the way she pressed them against his. There was—dare he hope?—love in the offering.
He deepened the kiss, knowing it was a mistake. How could he move on from this moment? How could he do what he knew was right when she offered him everything he could possibly want?
For a kiss from her was not the offering of a mere dalliance. No, Daisy would never toy with a man’s affections. That she kissed him in such a manner meant she felt something for him. Love, perhaps. Commitment, certainly. She was letting him know that, were he to ask for her hand, she would give it to him willingly.
He groaned with longing. The heat of her body swiftly dispelled the lingering chill from their stroll through the gardens. It would take the chill winds of this December evening to cool his burgeoning desire for the lovely woman in his arms.
He gathered his courage, cupped her cheeks in his hands, and after one last lingering taste, lifted his head.
A becoming blush brightened her cheeks. Her fingers were twisted in the blanket around his shoulders and she sagged forward. If he thought this would lead to them marrying and living a life together, he would rejoice at the evidence she had enjoyed their kiss as much as he.
But there was no happily ever after for the two of them. Marrying him would be a step down for the lovely Miss Worthington. She was the daughter of a viscount. She could marry any man of privilege and wealth that she so desired. A mere solicitor was not good enough for someone
such as her. What could he offer her?
They both breathed heavily as he tilted his head forward, standing together with their foreheads touching. Their breath mingled. Her chest rose and fell, pressing against him until he was forced to arch forward so that they did not touch. He could only take so much temptation.
“Will you speak to my father?”
A reasonable question. No man should kiss a woman like that without the intention of seeking permission to court her with the intention to marry.
It killed him to answer. “No, I’m sorry. You deserve more than I can give you.”
She stepped back. A chill swept through him from the force of her glare.
She was going to hate him. Could he handle that?
How could he not? He loved her. That meant he had to do what was best for her. Damn what he wanted.
But the look on her face would kill him.
“I’m not your savior. I can’t whisk you off and save you from a life you think you don’t want.”
“Think?” She took another step back, and he regretted his words.
“Think?” she repeated. “Are you suggesting I don’t know my own mind? That I should follow my father’s guidance, because of course, he knows what’s best. Do you think I’m going to wake up one morning next to my oh-so-suitable husband and think, why did I ever resist this life?” She poked him in the chest. “I don’t think. I know. I do not want the life my parents have laid out for me. I cannot enter into a marriage with a man who has no consideration for me other than how I enhance his life. I will not.”
When she put it that way, he felt like a cad. “That doesn’t change the fact I have nothing to offer you except a life ostracized from the society in which you grew up. Marriage to me would be a step down for you. I cannot allow you to sacrifice your place in society for a passing fancy that you will one day realize was nothing more than a fascination with the unknown.”
She gasped. “A passing fancy? Fascination with the unknown? What do you take me for? Some silly peagoose without a wit of common sense?”