Page 36 of Daisy and the Duke
“It’s a diamond. Cater sent it along with the papers. It’s not impressive now because it has yet to be cut. But it’s five carats! Think of how many more diamonds must lie below.”
His friend bit his lip, frowning at the stone. “You could send it to London to be appraised, I suppose. But with the money sent already… Tris, I wish you had spoken to me first. I could have looked over the papers at the very least.”
“You’re not well enough yet for such work,” Tris told him. “I didn’t want to strain you.”
“It’s a strain to think that you’ve thrown away ten thousand on a lark. Wait, do you even have ten thousand available?”
“It’s not as if one sends coins in the post! I arranged it all with my bank. They have an office in Calcutta.” Tris hesitated. “If I need more money anytime soon, though, I’d have to cede some land to the bank.”
Jack paled further, and Tris knew why. Land was power, land was money. For the aristocracy, it was the source of all their income—the crops themselves, the rents, the simple fact of owning real estate. Most people would give up everything else before selling a parcel, which would be lost forever, along with any future income that came from it. Tris was too new to this world to fully appreciate the risk he’d taken, though now he was realizing that he’d been a bit hasty to leap into a proposition from an old friend.
“But it’s not worth worrying about now,” Tris went on. “If all goes well, I’ll be the duke of diamonds, and I’ll never have to worry about money again.”
The expression of doubt and horror on Jack’s face said it all.
“Ifall goes well…” Jack muttered. “Is this part of some plan to court your Miss Daisy?”
“Hardly. She won’t even answer the letters I’ve sent.”
“You sent letters?”
“A few. At first I thought she might be too busy and it simply got overlooked, but after the fourth, I fear she’s quite done with me. I suppose that’s what I get for losing my head and yelling at her just because I heard a loud noise.” He shifted in his seat. “I hate it, Jack. It’s like the war’s still going on in my head.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack replied. “Perhaps time will make it fade. It really hasn’t been that long, you know.”
“It feels like forever.” And it was worse without Daisy to brighten his days. He didn’t fully appreciate how much he enjoyed her company until he suddenly lost it.
Chapter 10
Daisy didn’t see the dukefor several days following the ill-fated picnic, though she thought about him far more often. She wished there was a reason to run into him somehow, and she imagined making some clever remark that would make him laugh, to bring him out the dark mood she last saw him in. Something that would make him notice her, and forget Bella, who had apparently been invited to Lyondale any afternoon she wished to come—an invitation she’d taken advantage of, for a carriage was sent by the duke every day at noon, and Bella got into it wearing a stunning new outfit each time.
If only Daisy could compete with that. If she had the wardrobe of a lady…
“Enough daydreaming,” she scolded herself. She tried to distract herself by reading the latest issues ofThe English FarmerandThe Register of Cultivation, to which she subscribed in order to stay aware of trends in agriculture that she could use at the Grange. But now, all she could do was mark pages that she wanted to show to Tristan.
“Ugh!” Daisy put the journals aside. Why must everything make her think of him?
Fortunately, ordinary tasks still had to be done to keep the Grange running. So Daisy helped Elaine with the washing. She mended clothes while Elaine worked in the garden (Elaine was an attentive gardener who never let a fruit go overripe or a root unharvested). Then there was the marketing, when Daisy went into the village to buy what they couldn’t make at the Grange.
The journey to Lyonton and back normally didn’t take very long, but on this day, she found herself hurrying along the path almost an hour later than usual. And because the days were growing shorter, the light was already turning golden—beautiful for the moment, but heralding a swift nightfall.
She wished she had accepted the offer of a ride from one of the nearby farmers. But Daisy had been suffering a bout of pride, and she could just hear her stepmother’s disappointed tone:Oh, Daisy. You’re the daughter of a gentleman. You mustn’t ride in the back of a hay cart as if you were a ragamuffin.
The bags were heavy, and Daisy had to stop often to rest. But then she stopped for another reason entirely. The Duke of Lyon stood in front of her, leaning idly against the broad trunk of a tree. He looked perfectly at ease, his body relaxed in the late sun.
“Your grace!” Daisy said in surprise.
“Daisy.” Tristan was holding a bunch of wildflowers, which he offered to her. “I’ve been waiting.”
“For how long?” she asked, taking the flowers after she placed her bags on the ground. Tristan immediately picked them up to carry them to a safer place than the road.
“Does it matter? I’ve come here practically every day, hoping you’ll pass by. But you’re as elusive as a ghost.”
“Lady Rutherford has kept me busy,” Daisy said.
“So busy you can’t respond to a letter?” he asked, drawing her farther away from the road, where they could have a more private conversation, and not be overseen by anyone.
“Oh, not that busy! I can still write in the evenings when I have a moment. I don’t know what I would do if not for writing to my friends.”
