Page 40 of Daisy and the Duke
He took her in his arms and kissed her roughly, then pushed her away. “But you’re right. This was…not smart. Go. Before I change my mind and keep you here all night.”
Daisy felt the sting of his kiss all the way home. She was flushed and excited and nervous, and above all, dizzy with desire for Tristan, who waited for her—her!—to walk by.
The courtyard of the Grange was quiet, even sleepy. Daisy knew that most of the servants would be busy tending to the final tasks of the day, and she hoped that Elaine had managed to get dinner prepared without Daisy’s assistance. She’d make it up to Elaine tomorrow.
When Daisy entered the foyer of the house it was dark, as no servant had yet come around to light any lantern. Sighing, she dropped her bags to the floor at last, and reached for a candle on the table, while simultaneously striking a flintstone against the wall.
“You fool.”
Daisy stopped short at the words, issuing forth from a dark shape in the middle of the hall, framed by the cold, dark stones and low vaulted ceiling.
Lady Rutherford stepped forward, into the meager pool of light offered by the stubby candle Daisy had just lit.
The chatelaine of Rutherford Grange, the baroness herself, had come down to the lower floors, just to lie in wait for Daisy. Her usual fashionable coolness was even more marked down here in the shadowy, flickering light. Her mouth was drawn into a tight, pinched circle, and her eyes glittered with malice.
“You think I am unaware of what you’ve done?”
Oh, Lord, how could she know of Daisy’s secret, unplanned tryst? Aloud, Daisy stuttered, “My…my lady?”
“You are skulking about, insinuating yourself among your betters.” She flung a packet of paper on the floor. Daisy caught only a glimpse of Tristan’s handwriting, the strokes of black ink marked in great, impatient slashes—the writing of a man who was used to sending missives from a battlefield.
“His grace’s letters,” Daisy said faintly. “You did intercept them.”
“They came to me because at least some of the servants here have a modicum of sense, and knew that a duke had no business corresponding with a”—she checked herself—“a young woman with whom he has no cause for…specialrelations.”
“Did you read them?”
Lady Rutherford nodded, saying, “Thank the Lord that they are little more than invitations to write back. But even so, they are inappropriate.” The baroness knelt and scooped the letters up before Daisy could do anything. She then held one above the candle flame. It caught fire, illuminating the small foyer with a sudden, painful light.
“You are attempting to undermine your sister’s prospects,” the older woman said. “How can you hate Bella so much that you’d destroy her best chance for a marriage?”
“I don’t hate Bella!”
“Then why are you constantly hovering near his grace? The Duke of Lyon may find you diverting, but his destiny and yours are utterly separate. Forcing your attentions upon him makes you look foolish at best, and may even tarnish his own reputation. Do you want Bella to marry a man to whomrumorshave attached themselves?”
“Bella is not engaged,” Daisy protested.
“Not yet,” Lady Rutherford admitted. “But the day will come very soon. And until the words are spoken and she is contracted to the duke, I will ensure that you are out of the way.”
“Out of the way?” The phrase was ominous.
“To begin, you are confined to Rutherford Grange. No accepting invitations to Lyondale, or anywhere else without my express permission. No dallying in the woods. No jaunts to the village to do the marketing, or to visit mysterious old crones.”
“But—”
“Don’t you dare speak back to me!” Lady Rutherford glared at her, but then her expression softened. “I’m doing you a favor, Daisy. You may have your head turned by this man. But trust me, men think only of themselves. If by some chance he were to encounter you alone, away from the protection of society, he’d seek only one thing, and if he were to get it, you would be ruined and cast aside.”
A hidden tremor shook Daisy’s body. It was as if her stepmother had been watching…
“Men are the same everywhere,” Lady Rutherford added with a little sneer. “They speak sweetly until they get what they’re after, and then they’re off on the next hunt, without a thought for the broken hearts and shattered reputations they leave behind.”
Daisy stood speechless, unable to even formulate a thought amid the horror her stepmother painted for her. Tristan had been waiting for her in an out-of-the-way place, and he had begun a seduction that she responded to all too eagerly. Only the sudden shock of hearing others nearby had ended the tryst. But if Daisy hadn’t left, would Tristan really have continued the seduction? He certainly spoke of how much he wanted to.
The older woman seemed to come out a reverie, and then said, “Stay here at the Grange, Daisy. That is an order. If you disobey, you will regret it until the end of your days.”
Chapter 11
Tristan arrived back at Lyondalewell after dark had fallen. No one asked where he’d been, no one questioned his decisions. That was his life now, so different from living the life of a soldier, where every aspect of the day was tightly regulated and there was always a superior officer ready to jump on your neck for a minor infraction.
