Page 40 of The Best of Friends
“That is one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me, Toss.”
Toss took her hand and held it clasped to his heart. “Your encouraging words at the soiree last night were both a kindness and a much-needed bit of confidence.” He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “You do my battered heart a great deal of good.”
Heroft-battered heart threatened to jump through her ribs in that moment. She realized she’d developed tender feelings for him, but she was beginning to suspect she had fallen more entirely in love with him than she’d previously recognized. She knew he wouldn’t laugh at her if he knew of her feelings, but she wasn’t at all ready to confess them and risk being rejected.
“Itislovely,” he said. “And you look stunning in it. Though I’ve always thought you looked very nice no matter what you were wearing.”
Heavens. She might never stop blushing.
“When I win the game and your group of friends are required to make certain everyone attends an upcoming house party,” she said, “I’ll make certain to wear this dress. Then I can look prettyandtriumphant.”
He smiled ever more broadly. “The game is not over yet, Daria. And I suspect my brother is going to give me ample opportunity for finding things he does not approve of.”
“May the best Huntress win,” she declared.
He laughed again. “May the best—” He shook his head, but the movement was more dramatic than authentic. “We really do need a name.”
“Yes, you do,” she said.
Toss tipped his head in the direction of Charlie and Artemis. Charlie had his arms around his wife and was either whispering in her ear or kissing her—it was difficult to tell which. “If I play really loudly, do you think they’ll stop sparking?”
“I think it is well worth trying.”
Unfortunately, that meant he let go of her hand, which made her heart ache a little. But he did start playing again, and she loved listening to and watching him play. Charlie and Artemis more or less ignored his efforts, though, admittedly, he wasn’t playing thunderously as he’d threatened to.
Daria was no expert at music, but she could hear a melody repeating underneath the composition. What was wrapped around it changed, but that tune was there. She didn’t recognize it, which didn’t mean it was new. But she hoped it was.
He ought to keep playing. And he also ought to keep writing his own music. She wanted him to have that bit of himself and the joy it brought him. He deserved to be happy.
Chapter Fifteen
If Daria had owned ablack dress, she would have worn it the next morning. She was bidding Gillian farewell. She refused to believe it was forever, and yet she had no guarantee that it wasn’t. Life was so unfair sometimes.
She held her dearest friend once again and extracted for at least the twentieth time a promise from her to write. Gillian and Scott had been kind enough to come to Daria’s house to make their farewells, as there’d been no guarantee she would be granted the use of a carriage or allowed a maid to walk with her to the house where Gillian and Scott had been staying.
“I swear to you that I will be a very faithful correspondent,” Gillian said firmly. “Even if your parents make good on their threat and send you to Anglesey. I’ll write to you wherever you are. I swear.”
“And I’ll write to you,” Daria promised.
“And you must promise to tell me all the details as Mr. Greenberry becomes more smitten with you.”
Daria stepped away enough to give her a very dry look. “You are the only person who has seen anything beyond friendliness in his kind treatment of me.”
“Is it that you don’t think anyone could feel anything beyond that for you or that you don’t wish forhimto?”
A bit of a nervous bubble expanded in her throat. She did hope that she was able to turn a head now and then. But that head, she knew, wasn’t Mr. Greenberry’s. Even with her very dearest friend, she wasn’t ready to admit to her feelings for Toss. To not share her thoughts, her concerns, her hopes with Gillian was both uncharacteristic and, she feared, a foolish decision. Yet she couldn’t force herself to spill the secret. Perhaps she would find the courage to do so in a letter, maybe when she understood her own feelings a little better.
Scott stepped up beside his wife, setting his hand gently at her waist. “Though I am likely to be painted a villain for saying as much, we do have to be on the road.” He looked to Daria with an expression of regret. “Once our estate is more stable, we’ll be able to be here longer and have you come visit us.”
Daria nodded. “Never fear. I will emerge triumphant in the game Toss and I are playing, which means you and the other gentlemen will have to find a means of getting me to an eventual house party.”
Scott grinned. “I have full faith in Toss. He has an ample store of ways to annoy his brother.”
Gillian reached out and squeezed Daria’s hand once more. “Keep your chin up, my friend. I refuse to believe this is your last time in London.”
“I’ll write to you and tell you if I managed to convince my parents.”
“Please do.”
