Page 21 of Daisy and the Duke
“I’m his daughter from his first marriage.”
He frowned. “And yet you are not the baroness now?”
“It’s all a bit tangled,” Daisy said, “and I’m afraid that I am not very good at explaining the details of all the legal aspects, especially to a lawyer.”
“Try me,” he said kindly.
So Daisy related the basic facts as she knew them. As she spoke, she was reminded of those first few months of numbness and pain after losing her father. She’d disregarded so many things then, and it was all still a haze.
“You never read the will yourself?” Kemble asked at one point. His tone was mild, but Daisy could tell that he was incredulous.
“Well, I may have, and I simply don’t recall. I was only fourteen. Much of the language of the documents was quite beyond me.” She tried to think of another subject, one that was less mournful. So she asked, “How did you meet the duke?”
“We were at school together, and remained friends after he went off to the Continent to join the fighting, and I stayed here in England to study the law,” Kemble said. “As it happened, Tr—that is, his grace returned on a medical discharge. I had space, so I insisted that he come live with me while he recuperated. Unfortunately, I seem to have got rather run down, and I took very ill just as he was recovering.” He looked frustrated. “At least he’s back on his feet. I feel like I may never be.”
“Was it very bad?” Daisy asked hesitantly. “The duke’s injuries, I mean. He looks strong now, but I gather that he might have…died?” She didn’t even want to imagine the possibility.
Kemble nodded. “It was as dire as one can get without meeting one’s Maker. Did you hear how it happened?”
“Only some garbled rumors.”
“Well, I’ll tell you, both to set the story straight and because he never will. He’s too modest.”
Kemble paused, recalling the details, and then began to relate what had happened.
“Tristan Brooks—as he was called then—was part of a company defending a mountain pass that the French were keen to take. Our boys had the high ground, which helped. But the enemy had brought along some nasty machinery, setting up barrages of cannon fire to make life difficult for the defenders. Tristan happened to be walking with a few of the most senior officers one day as they surveyed the camp and were trying to make plans for new defenses. How Tristan knew something was coming—even he can’t explain that. But he shouted and hurled himself at the major general, who was in the direct line of fire. Knocked him and a couple others to the ground just before the shell struck. Tristan saved the lives of more than one man that day…but he was closest to the shell, which exploded on impact and hurled out scraps of burning metal. Many of them hit Tristan.”
“It must have been so painful for him,” Daisy whispered, imagining the horrific scene.
“More than he’s ever admitted out loud,” Kemble agreed. “He was taken to the field hospital first, where they said he wouldn’t last until nightfall. But he did! And a few days later they sent him to recover farther away from the front, still thinking he’d succumb to the wounds, or fever, as so many soldiers do. But he survived that too. And then the word came down on high, and Tristan was promoted to lieutenant and offered an honorable discharge on account of his wounds being so severe that he could never return to the army. He resigned his commission and went to his home in London to recuperate. And that’s where the solicitors of the Lyondale estate found him…and told him he was the next in line for the dukedom.”
“What an astonishing turn of events. I’m so happy for him,” Daisy said, meaning it. “It’s evidence of Providence, that he is now duke. He’ll be able to do so much good with that influence, and an understanding of life’s difficulties that few other men in his position have. Perhaps you could tell him that for me.”
“You can tell him yourself, if you like.” Mr. Kemble gestured to something behind Daisy, and she turned to discover the duke standing there, his presence making her shy all over again. Had he been listening? She couldn’t imagine speaking so boldly to the duke himself, telling him how he ought to live his life!
But if he overheard, he didn’t show it. He said, “I came out to see if you were still here, Jack. It’s dark now, and too cold for your health.”
“Mother hen,” Mr. Kemble muttered, but with a resigned expression. “I should have gone in earlier, but I was quite distracted by this young lady’s company.”
At that moment, two footmen and a housemaid arrived, obviously there to help Mr. Kemble inside and to gather all the accoutrements he’d been using. Mr. Kemble stood with the assistance of the footmen. Still, he managed a polite little bow in Daisy’s direction.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss. I do hope to see you again.”
“I should like that very much,” she replied warmly. She glanced at Tristan, realizing that any such visit would entail her being invited to Lyondale again. “That is, if his grace would permit it.”
“Anything for a friend,” he replied, with a cryptic smile.
“Watch over Miss Merriot, will you?” Mr. Kemble told Tristan.
“Certainly,” the duke replied. “Perhaps she’ll allow me to take her for a turn around the garden path.”
Daisy felt a little thrill. Ofcourseshe’d want to spend more time with him! But, she thought out loud, “Won’t your other guests miss you?”
“What other guests?” he replied, making butterflies suddenly take flight through her stomach.Thatwas a flirtation, she realized. Whatever had happened between them on the afternoon they met was not merely in Daisy’s imagination. He felt something too.
The housemaid bustled about, gathering the blanket and lantern as she hurried after the others. As she began to walk along the path away from the house, Daisy noticed that the book Kemble had been reading was left behind, and she stooped to pick it up.
“She missed this, and books ought not be left outside,” Daisy said. She looked at the cover and smiled, telling Tristan, “He said that the book details some very dangerous things! I wonder if it’s even safe for me to hold it,” she joked.
