Page 24 of His Lordship's True Lady
“Because he loves me and he loves my mama, and he’s the only papa I know.”
Daisy was an awkward climber, but she made it up onto the wall and sat, her feet kicking against the stones.
“So you can get another papa after your first one dies?”
At this rate, Daisy would never be fit for duty in the crow’s nest. Bronwyn plopped down beside her. “Yes, if he loves you and you love him. I expect you can get another mama too.”
“I don’t want another mama.”
“Neither do I. I don’t want you to be sent away either.”
They pondered that possibility in silence. Bronwyn suspected if they talked it over, Daisy might begin to cry. Daisy cried a lot, which made sense. If Bronwyn had lost both of her parents, she’d cryforever.
“Do you know how you are called Daisy, even though your name is Amy Marguerite?” Bronwyn asked, getting to her feet.
Daisy managed to get herself to a standing position on the wall. “Yes, and my other name is Samantha.”
“Well, my family calls me Winnie, from Bronwyn. You can call me Winnie too. I’ll be Captain Winnie, and you can be First Mate Daisy. Let’s go up to the poop deck and look for pirates.”
“I thought we were the pirates.”
“We’ll be in Lord Nelson’s fleet for now. They got to win all the battles.”
“Lord Nelson was killed in one of those battles.”
Bronwyn swung up into the maple, which was at the lovely, soft stage of growing new leaves. “Everybody dies, Daisy, and then we go to heaven. You can’t worry about that. Lord Nelson got to be a hero because he died fighting for King George. Are you coming?”
Daisy took a moment to choose her route into the tree—she had probably been cautious even before her parents had died—and then she followed Bronwyn into the hold of their seventy-four gunner.
Bronwyn grabbed a sturdy branch and began to climb. “Why do you suppose they called it the poop deck? Why not the pee deck, or the manure deck?”
Daisy started to giggle, and the branch she hung on to shook with her laughter, and that made Bronwyn laugh, and they decided they’d name their ship the HMS Poop Deck.
* * *
Uncle Walter sat at the end of the breakfast table, a cup of coffee in one hand, the financial pages in the other. He was a lean, white-haired gentleman with twinkling blue eyes and a black heart.
Lily stirred a lump of sugar into her tea and waited, for if she’d learned nothing else in the past ten years, she’d learned to deal with Uncle carefully.
He finished his coffee and set the cup on its saucer. “So what have you planned for this glorious spring day, dearest niece?”
He kept despotic control of her social schedule, and when he wasn’t dictating to her outright, he was spying on her through the servants or Oscar.
“I was hoping for some time to speak with you, Uncle. I’ve encountered an unforeseen challenge.”
He poured himself more coffee, the acrid scent reaching Lily, though she sat eight feet down the table. “You excel at dealing with challenges. I’ve every confidence you’ll manage this one, whatever it might be.”
“My challenge is the Earl of Grampion.” And his tender, passionate kisses. His devotion to an orphan, his relentless decency. Lily was capable of admiring men, even of liking them—she liked the Earl of Rosecroft—but Grampion had the power to destroy her.
“He’s a challenge to many,” Uncle said, heaping sugar into his coffee. “He’s about as warm as a Methodist spinster in her shroud. All the charm in that family went to the wealthy younger brother, and he’s my objective. Pass the milk.”
Lily brought her uncle the milk. The command was a reminder:Do as I say. Do everything just as I say.
“I knew you were acquainted with the previous earl, Uncle. I did not realize that he’d brought his heir to Town with him years ago.”
Uncle poured a dollop of milk into his coffee, then another. “And how did you come across that revelation?”
“As a girl, the Lily Ferguson whom Grampion knew detested bugs. I made the mistake of taking an interest in butterflies.”
