Page 18 of The Duke I Wished For
Isabelle leaned forward. “I heard he’s created a detailed list of requirements.”
Daffodil squeaked, her stomach dropping clear to her toes. “How could you know that?”
Isabelle shrugged. “All the debutantes want an opportunity to meet him and they make it their business to know the details. He hasn’t been subtle about his requirements, either. I believe the two words that Posey Williams used to describe her conversation with him was an interrogation.”
She’d not known the duke or his list before their first meeting. Nor when she’d happened upon his tea party. The very fact that she’d not had a clue about who he was or what he wanted made her ill-suited to be his bride. No other eligible woman would have made such silly mistakes.
Daffodil was not the sort of debutante who managed to marry a duke.
“He wants a woman of decorum,” Jocelyn added. “Grace. She’ll be a musician, accomplished at embroidery.”
His questions, the ones he’d asked that first night, pinged around her skull, creating an ache she could hardly manage. He did want all those things, she knew it to be true, and what was more, she’d told him herself she was no good at them.
Her stomach rolled.
“And most importantly…” Isabelle leaned forward, her voice dropping to whisper. “He’ll want a woman who can be a good mother to his daughter.”
Her heart ceased beating in her chest.
A good mother? What did Daffodil know on the topic of mothering? Her own hadn’t set much example. Not only did she browbeat both her daughters regularly, she now saw them as nothing but tools to right the family’s finances.
It didn’t seem to bother the countess one bit that the suitors she’d chosen for Daffodil had been offensive and disgusting.
She closed her eyes, the truth settling over her like cold on a winter day. Everyone always told her how much she resembled her mother. What if she became her?
Was that her lot in life?
Her hand settled over her heart as she drew in a ragged breath. Daffodil wasn’t certain she met one criteria on the duke’s list. She didn’t even meet her own.
“I’ve never met the duke myself,” Jocelyn was saying, “but I’ve heard every eligible lady in society has set her cap for him.”
“Including you?” Isabelle asked, laughter in her voice.
Jocelyn made a pshh sound. “I am in no hurry to marry, and you well know it.”
Jane laughed and said what they were likely all thinking. “It must be pleasant to have such freedom to wait and to choose.”
“Oh it is,” Jocelyn said. “But what a coup for Daffodil if the duke chooses her out of all the eligible ladies in the ton.”
The others were quick to agree, but Daffodil only squeezed her eyes shut tighter. When Jocelyn put it like that…
Why would Hathshire ever choose the likes of her when he could have anyone?
What a fool she’d been to let herself hope…
“Daff?”
Her eyes snapped back open at the sound of her sister Delilah’s voice. Her sister was hovering in the doorway, a look of worry marring her delicate features.
“What is it, Delilah?”
“Mother and Father are here.” Her sister crossed the room as well, reaching out a hand to Daffodil. “Please don’t leave me with Mother today. I’m not certain…” Delilah shuddered. “She said something about me stepping up for the family and I…”
Daffodil rose, wrapping her arms about her sister. “Don’t you worry. I’ll stay with you all day.”
Jocelyn tapped her shoulder. “What if the duke comes? You ought to be available for his attention.”
She shook her head. The duke had been a fanciful dream, she could see that now. Her sister was very real and she needed her.
