Page 31 of Daisy and the Duke
“Daisy, hurry!” Bella urged, looking nervously at the carriage. “It would be very rude to keep the gentlemen waiting.”
Daisy resolved to do a more thorough search later, and until she found the items, she wouldn’t mention anything to Kemble, so he didn’t get his hopes up.
Traveling toward Lyondale, Daisy and Bella sat on the forward-facing seat, each looking surreptitiously around the opulent compartment. Bella hadn’t seen it before at all. Daisy had, since the duke had taken her home that night after dinner…but that had been in the dark, and also with the distraction of Tristan kissing her so sensuously that Daisy had nearly melted, and therefore she’d been quite unable to appreciate the conveyance itself.
The closed coach featured paneling between the sparkling glass of the windows. The seats were padded in heavy brocade, and the whole coach rode smoothly, despite the pitted road. Daisy tried to guess at the cost of the vehicle, and gave up—the amount was probably the equivalent of several tenant families’ annual incomes.
Bella looked over the coach’s interior with curiosity in her eyes. “After this, our own carriage will seem even shabbier.” It was a mere statement of fact, and Daisy had to agree.
“Well, it’s only needed to go to town and for church on Sundays,” she said. “Surely if your mother wanted a new one, she’d purchase it.”
“I’ve asked,” Bella said. “I never quite understood why Mama spends so much on some things, but not enough on others. She says that my wardrobe is the most important thing…until I’m married. But I think that she ought to put more thought into the appearance of Rutherford Grange. My suitors do call on me there, after all. A house is like a wardrobe,” she concluded. “Where a lady lives matters just as much as how she looks.”
Daisy felt the words with a sting. She had slept in the alcove of the kitchen last night since she’d dozed off while mending clothes, and woken up feeling sore and cramped, not to mention covered in the soot of the fireplace. Where a lady lived did matter…and Daisy was one step away from living in the stables.
But Bella wouldn’t have known that, and her words were probably not intended to censure Daisy. So she tried to ignore her hurt and asked, “Have you told your mother that? She does so very much want you to marry well.”
“That’s true, but she seems to think that I will soon have a proposal in hand.”
Bella didn’t add the rest of the statement, because it was obvious. The expected proposal was going to come from the duke, who, after all, just invited Bella to a picnic with Daisy in tow to chaperone her.
“Have you…have you cause to believe a proposal is imminent?” Daisy nearly squeaked out.
“I should not presume to know any gentleman’s intentions,” Bella said primly. “Though the duke certainly has been attentive since he came to the area.”
Daisy bit her lip, remembering that Tristan had been very attentive to her indeed. But only when the two found themselves alone.
Then Bella said, looking out the window, “You know, Mr. Kemble has never once told me that I am pretty.”
Daisy raised an eyebrow, though Bella wouldn’t see it. Was the girl so vain that she cataloged each time a man complimented her?
When the women arrived at the steps of Lyondale, both Lord Lyon and Mr. Kemble were ready to greet them at the front of the great house.
“We’re ready,” said Kemble. He stood next to what looked like a very large hamper of food.
“Are you expecting many other guests?” Daisy asked on seeing it.
Mr. Kemble smiled back. “No, just you two. But the kitchen staff seems to think we’re planning to picnic in Wales. We haveseveralmeals’ worth.”
Two footmen did the work of carrying the hamper down to the location by the pond, which had been chosen for its view across the water and to the fields beyond. Trees grew at the far end of the pond, their leaves shining gold as they drifted away in the breeze.
When they sat, Bella’s gown pooled around her like a perfect white cloud. Daisy felt as if she was getting tangled in her dark green wool. Still, the mood was cheerful and quite casual compared to the previous dinner party. The absence of Lady Rutherford no doubt helped this effect.
To Daisy’s surprise, the picnic was actually a very pleasant affair. Bella was skilled at guiding a conversation, hitting all the social niceties while steering away from difficult topics. It also helped that Tristan and Jack were good friends, and had many stories to tell. Bella seemed fascinated by Tristan’s younger life. In particular, she listened raptly to stories of the rougher years of his childhood, before his destiny as a duke was revealed.
Daisy liked hearing his stories too, though she could sense the elisions in his tale that Bella clearly missed, the way he didn’t mention missed meals or the prospect of not knowing if the next quarter’s rent could be paid. It was odd how her and Tristan’s lives had flipped. Daisy grew up in comfort and luxury, expecting to become a baroness in her own right. And now she lived a life closer to a servant than an heiress. Tristan’s life was just the opposite, growing up in modest surroundings, unaware of his bloodline until the truth was given to him so abruptly. And now he lived like a prince. She hoped he was happy with the change. Sometimes she got the impression that he would rather run away from it all.
After the group tested the desserts (eclairs, cream puffs, a lemon cake…the array of choices went on and on), Tristan asked Daisy about how she’d chosen a particular breed of sheep, remembering the last time when she mentioned it in passing.
Jack sighed. “If you two are going to drone on about livestock, please take a walk around the pond while you do.”
“I certainly could not contribute on that topic,” Bella said. “It is quite beyond me. But do feel free to stretch your legs. I will see that Mr. Kemble is not abandoned.”
So Daisy and Tristan walked at a sedate pace, and since they were in view of their picnic companions or the great house, the stroll was quite safe. They followed a path near the water, and Daisy was pleased to have Tristan to herself. After a few moments of conversation that ranged from sheep to corn laws, she said, “Your grace, I was actually wondering…”
“Yes?”
“Oh, never mind.”
