Page 53 of Daisy and the Duke
Tristan gave her the pebble again, and Daisy stared at it in puzzlement. “Is this a diamond?”
“No, and that’s the shame of it. I was a fool, Daisy. I agreed to put up ten thousand, which I don’t have, and the estate can’t generate. I was so starstruck by the dream of it, being able to have an income that would allow me freedom, freedom to choose what I wanted to do, and who I wanted to be with…” He touched her face. “But it was for nothing. Too late, I discovered that John was wrong. The stones he thought were diamonds are some other mineral, worth practically nothing. And I’ve ruined the whole future of Lyondale and everyone who lives here…unless I can find a way to get myself access to a lot of wealth, very quickly.”
“A marriage,” Daisy said dully.
“Yes.” Tristan looked so defeated that she could only put her arms around him, holding him close. “But listen—”
Just then, there was a scream.
Tristan’s eyes went wide, and Daisy could see fear in them. She looked below, out to the pond, and saw a woman running after a young boy, one of the children who’d been permitted to come to the festivities, and was now holding a long stick that was fizzing and sparking with lights on one end. The child was shrieking with excitement.
The woman reached the boy, and scolded him for behaving badly. Though Daisy was too far away to hear her, the expressive gestures made her tone quite clear.
“It’s fine, it’s just the children playing,” Daisy said to Tristan, trying to soothe him.
But Tristan had stiffened up, staring at the scene below but apparently seeing something else entirely. In the lurid blaze of a red explosion, Daisy saw his scar in stark relief.
Dear God, he’s reliving the past, she thought. Out loud, she said, “Tristan? Tristan? Are you all right?”
He shook his head, raised his hands to cover his face and sank into a crouch. “The roar…” he muttered.
“This was too much, too fast. I’ll get help,” Daisy told him. “I’ll find Mr. Kemble. Or Miss Wallis. Stay still, Tris. I’ll be right back. I promise!”
Fear running through her, Daisy ran off the balcony, through the huge bedroom suite, and down the hallway to the grand stairs, glad her mask was already on. She’d forgotten her wings, but that didn’t matter. She looked for a footman or a housemaid, but everyone seemed to be gone, probably watching the cursed fireworks.
Daisy ran out the huge front doors, calling for Mr. Kemble, Miss Wallis, any help at all. In her haste, she bumped into a figure dressed in very dark clothing.
“I’m sorry…” she began.
“Watch yourself!” a cross voice said. “Whoever you are!”
All at once, she felt her mask being pulled off, revealing her face to the world.
It was the vicar who stood in front of her, holding the mask in his hands. He was dressed as a black-feathered, beaked raven, and it felt like an omen.
“Why, it’s Daisy!” he boomed out. When the vicar gave his sermons, he sometimes used a huge voice to fill the church when he had a particularly dire point to make about sinners. That was the voice he used now.
“What are you doing here?” he continued. “Under a false name too. Lady Wildwood? Explain yourself, girl.”
Something cold slid down Daisy’s spine, pushing away all the wonderful warmth she’d been wrapped up in since Tristan told her he needed her.
“Give me back my mask, sir,” she said, reaching for it. Not that many people had seen this exchange yet. Perhaps the evening could be salvaged.
But he turned and stepped back, not allowing her to regain her precious anonymity.
“This mask?” he said, holding it up and away, far out of Daisy’s reach. “Such an extravagant thing! Not to mention the gown. These items cannot be yours. This behavior has no place here. You have norightto be here.”
“I was invit—”
“You can’t presume to think you belong here.” His voice was low, but Daisy heard every word, and her face flamed with embarrassment and impotent anger.
“Idobelong,” she began, standing up to face him.
Hornthwaite sneered at her. “So you got a fancy gown for a night! Do you think that changes who you are? You’re a spinster living on a pittance. I saw you dancing with Lyon all night. Gave you airs, didn’t it? You think he has any honorable interest in a girl with no fortune? Think again. If you were wise, you would leave this place to preserve your own honor, such as it is.”
“Lord Lyon has never impugned my honor.” But he had taken her innocence.
“So you’ll be announcing your engagement any day?” Hornthwaite’s lips parted in a thin, cold smile. “Has he asked you to solemnize your…ahem, union?”
