Page 18 of Daisy and the Duke
The vicar kept sidling up, clearly hoping to ingratiate himself with the new duke.
“So you are the duke’s cousin?” the vicar was saying to Miss Wallis, having settled for a discussion with her until he could scale that final rung to a chat with the duke himself.
“Second cousin, once removed,” Miss Wallis replied primly. She added nothing else, and Tristan got the distinct impression that she did not like Hornthwaite. Interesting. The vicar seemed personable enough, and he supposed the man could be called handsome (in an ecclesiastical sort of way). And yet, he didn’t like the vicar either…or else why did he avoid him so? Tristan put that thought away for later. Perhaps Miss Wallis would tell him more after the guests left.
And then, finally, Miss Daisy Merriot entered.
She wore a plain, almost shabby cloak, while the two ladies with her nearly glowed in the brighter colors they each wore.
The other young lady was fragile and beautiful. She allowed a footman to take her cloak, revealing a gown that looked like something a fairy princess would wear. Meanwhile, Lady Rutherford was regal, gowned in a rich purple frock and a headdress that featured three peacock feathers.
But he only noticed them because they were with Daisy.
“Hurry up with your cloak,” Lady Rutherford was saying to Daisy in an annoyed tone. “Bella must meet the duke as soon as possible.”
As Tristan approached the trio, Daisy removed the cloak…and revealed that she was just as alluring as the first time he saw her.
“Where did you get that gown?” Lady Rutherford hissed, clearly shocked at Daisy’s appearance.
“I made it from the fabric bolt my friend Poppy sent,” she explained in a soft voice.
“You should have told me—why, your grace!” Lady Rutherford said, affecting a sweeter tone. “Good evening. We were just saying how wonderful it is to have Lyondale open again.”
An obvious lie, but Tristan had no option to pursue it, since he was immediately introduced to Bella Merriot, who was all but offered to him on a platter.
To be fair, she was a very pretty young lady. If Tristan ordered an artist to paint an ideal woman, the result would probably look like the Honorable Bella Merriot.
Daisy Merriot was dressed more simply than her stepsister, but everything about her said gentry: her manner, her voice, her looks. Her blond hair was bound up properly, but it would spill everywhere if that one ribbon were to be undone—an image he found he quite liked. She had a heart-shaped face and lovely, big dark eyes, and an intriguing bow of a mouth.
“Thank you for coming.” He looked at her and smiled. “A question, if you’ll indulge my curiosity. Did I hear your stepmother call you Daisy the other day?”
“My given name is Margaret, as you must know, for it was on the invitation,” she said shyly. “Daisy is just a pet name.”
“It suits you very well,” he said.
Daisy’s eyes widened. She was shy, and obviously nervous, which Tristan found charming, if only because it gave him a bit of confidence. He wasn’t a great talker himself, but she was nearly tongue-tied. He wondered if a kiss would untie her tongue or silence her completely, and then decided either outcome would be interesting.
Before she could respond to his comment, the bell rang for dinner.
Chapter 6
Daisy found herself being escortedinto dinner by the duke himself, and she was so stunned by this event that she couldn’t talk. She felt Lady Rutherford’s gaze boring into her back. It wasn’t her fault that the duke happened to be speaking to her just as the dinner gong sounded! It was polite to offer to escort the nearest lady, regardless of who she might be.
She wore her new gown for the occasion, the one she sewed from the gifted fabric. Lady Rutherford glared at her when Daisy removed the cloak, but Daisy had no idea why she really cared. Bella’s gown was far more impressive. In fact, everyone’s outfits were more expensive and showy than Daisy’s. She was a moth among butterflies.
Soon, the guests were seated in a large, windowed room with a long dining table. Tristan led Daisy to her seat, which was of coursenotnext to the end, where he would be sitting. In a duke’s home, seating arrangements were all made in advance, accounting for the rank and influence of every guest.
Through the glass windows, one could see the pond below the house, and the fields beyond it, all now turning golden and russet in the fading sunlight. Daisy wished she could be out there, rather than in the dining room among strangers. With the exception of Lyon himself, she felt no one wanted her there. Indeed, she still wasn’t surewhyshe was there.
The meal was not a happy one, though the guests certainly never allowed it to become a silent one. Bella commented only rarely, perhaps thinking her pink-and-white English rose looks—all fair skin and blonde hair and limpid blue-green eyes—conveyed all she needed to. Daisy was acutely conscious of the other girl’s impeccable gown and jewelry that murmured rather than shouted of wealth. Lady Rutherford was equally well-draped. It all left Daisy feeling out of place and vulnerable.
The conversation ranged wide and often included topics Daisy knew nothing about—nor did she wish to.
“Governess, my foot!” Lady Weatherby said at one point, speaking of a local resident. “That woman is Mr. Billing’s natural daughter and the job a merest fiction.”
Miss Wallis choked on her tea.
“I beg you pardon, ma’am,” Lady Rutherford said in agreement, “but it is the truth. At least he’s providing for her, that all I can say.”
