Page 20 of Daisy and the Duke
“I didn’t mean to!”
“Of all the things to do, Daisy. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Poor Bella deserves better.”
“It was an accident, Mama,” Bella said, grabbing at a serviette Lady Caroline thrust at her. She dabbed frantically. “Oh, the stain is spreading…!”
Indeed the deep red of the Madeira was rapidly expanding on the thin, highly porous silk, causing Bella to look as if she wandered through an abattoir. Tears glistened in her Aegean-blue eyes. “Mama, I lookhideous.”
“This is your doing, Daisy,” Lady Rutherford hissed. “Get out of my sight.”
Daisy was only too eager to obey. Turning, she fled down the hallway not knowing or caring where she ended up, only that it would be far, far away from her stepmother.
Daisy instinctively sought out the darkest, most solitary location she could find at Lyondale, which was the garden. Though near the great house, it was blessedly deserted, since all the guests were currently inside, probably making jokes at Daisy’s expense.
“I never should have come here,” she said out loud.
“What’s so bad about Lyondale?” a male voice asked from the darkness.
Daisy gasped, whirling around to discover who or what was speaking.
“Over here,” the voice continued. “By the roses.”
She could smell the roses, and a moment later, she could see them too, for there was a dim light from a lantern placed on a low wall nearby. Next to the lantern, a figure lay on a chaise.
“Hello?” Daisy asked, approaching it.
“Good evening,” the figure replied. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, but in my defense, I didn’t want to eavesdrop on your conversation with the plants. I’m Jackson Kemble, at your service.”
This little speech was delivered from a prone position, as the speaker was clearly not well enough to get up. Daisy now saw that he was covered in a wool blanket and that he was uncommonly pale. This must be the convalescing friend Tristan had mentioned at one point during dinner.
“How do you do, Mr. Kemble?” she said, remembering her manners. “I’m Miss Daisy Merriot. Shall I leave you in peace?”
“Were you hoping to escape into the darkness?” he asked. “I wouldn’t recommend it. Some of the plants in these gardens are carnivorous.”
“They are not,” Daisy objected, but with a laugh, for it was absurd to think about.
Mr. Kemble laughed too, a thin sound compared to the size of man he was. “Very well. But it could be true somewhere.” He held up a book. “I’ve been reading about some discoveries of amazing plants in the tropics. Alas, reading about them is about as close as I’ll get for a long time. Travel does not agree with me lately.”
Daisy stepped closer. “His grace spoke of a friend who was quite ill, and therefore could not join the dinner party. Was that you?”
“Indeed. I’ve known Tris—excuse me, the duke, since we were schoolmates. He was kind enough to haul me along when he decided to see Lyondale at last. The doctors say the air in the country is better than that of London.”
“I’ve only been to London a few times,” Daisy said, “but I must agree with the doctors. Do you feel any improvement?”
“I’m coughing less,” he admitted. “And I can sometimes sit up in a chair for an hour or two, which is more encouraging than it may sound. However, it will be a long time before I can return to Chancery.”
“You’re a solicitor?”
“Was. Now I’m an invalid.” He smiled. “But that is dull talk. Tell me why you told the plants you shouldn’t have come here. For myself, I’m quite happy you have.”
She sat down on a wrought iron chair a few feet away from Mr. Kemble. Though he was a virtual stranger, Daisy felt instantly comfortable with him. And while she ought not be alone with a man, one could hardly object to her sitting with an invalid who couldn’t do any harm.
“The matter is a trivial one,” she explained. “I made an embarrassing scene. Only I was harmed and the harm shall not last long. I am not important enough for anyone to care if I humiliate myself. Well, it is likely that my sister’s gown was ruined, but she has plenty in reserve.”
He chuckled. “That sounds like comedy, not tragedy. But if she is your sister, won’t she forgive you?”
“In fact, Bella Merriot is my sister by marriage only,” Daisy said, to clarify the matter. She added, “We do not have much in common.”
“Ah, the Merriots of Rutherford Grange,” he said. “I’ve heard mention of them. I’m a bit confused, though,” he went on. “Because if those Merriots are here by marriage, how are you connected to the late baron?”
