Page 62 of Daisy and the Duke
“You need someone who knows the law to defend you,” Mrs. Cannon said.
“And where would she locate a man willing to take that case on, against a baroness and a duke and the whole shire?” Mrs. Bloomfield frowned. “I wish I had funds to pay for such a person, but I’m afraid…”
“Oh, no!” Daisy put her fork down, rather more forcefully than she intended. “You have been so kind to take me in. You mustn’t spend a penny more on me. I promise I will decide what to do soon…just not yet.”
“You may stay here as long as needed,” Mrs. Bloomfield said, patting her hand. “But remember, the world rarely waits until a person is ready for it.”
Daisy nodded. How true. She didn’t feel prepared for a single thing that happened to her lately, whether it was meeting Tristan in the woods one day, or being showered with a mysterious gift, to being accused of theft in front of the whole county…
But at least Wildwood Hall was a haven. Daisy was so grateful to be there, among the young students and the familiar rooms and the books in the library that she’d read years before. One day, the youngest class decided to play hide and seek. The weather had turned cold, so no one could hide in the gardens, like Daisy had done when she played it. But the many corners and tucked away closets of the Hall provided many hiding spots, and squeals echoed through the building as girls found each other.
It was a fun game…as long as one did not mind being found. Daisy briefly imagined playing such a game at Lyondale, perhaps with a little girl who had her blond hair and Tristan’s eyes.
The thought swept her back to the night they’d lain together, and how she’d been so overcome with passion that she threw all her good sense to the wind just to be with him. Was she possibly pregnant now? After only one time? Daisy knew it was possible, though unlikely. Tristan had taken care to avoid the outcome. And even if she were, would she ever approach Tristan and tell him? A duke would probably not welcome news of a bastard, though she guessed that Tristan would support the child. But Daisy was not at all sure she’d want him to know. In fact, she wasn’t sure of anything, except that she ached for Tristan, and would give just about anything to hear him say her name again. Or to kiss her and tell her that everything would be fine, and that their troubles were over. And then he’d sweep her into his arms and kiss her…
“Miss Merriot?”
“Yes!” Daisy’s attention snapped back to the present moment. “What is it, Joanna?”
“The headmistress would like to see you in her office,” the younger girl said, eyes round at the thought of going to such an august place. “She didn’t say why.”
“Ah, must be a new student coming to Wildwood. I’m to give the tours now.” Daisy put her book away and rose to her feet, gently running her palms across her skirt to flatten out any wrinkles. Since she had very little clothing to her name now, she treated everything she did own with utmost care.
She took a quick glance at the mirror to be sure her hair was in place, and that the younger students had not left paint on her nose. All she saw was her own plain face, her cheeks a little pinker than proper for a lady.
When she reached the office door, Daisy knocked politely. “It’s Daisy, Mrs. Bloomfield.”
“Come in, come in.”
Daisy entered and sat on the polished walnut chair across the vast desk. She was in no fear that she’d done anything wrong, but she could not think why she’d been summoned.
“Daisy, you have a visitor.”
Mrs. Bloomfield turned in her seat to indicate a figure standing by the window. Daisy hadn’t noticed anyone until now, but her heart dropped to her stomach when she saw Tristan in the light.
“Miss Merriot,” he said, very formally. “I was hoping we could speak.”
“Your g-grace,” she stammered out. “I did not expect…”
“No you wouldn’t, considering that you didn’t tell anyone where you went, and I’ve got a lot questions about how you managed it.” As he spoke, he approached her, and Daisy instinctively leaned back, expecting censure.
But Tristan stopped short a few feet away and bent his head down in supplication. “But none of that really matters now. What matters is that you hear me out.”
“Hearyouout?” she echoed, confused. Wasn’t she the one in trouble?
“Perhaps you two would like to take a stroll around the grounds,” Mrs. Bloomfield suggested. “Meet me back here in a half hour so we may discuss the next steps.” Her meaning was clear—Tristan could talk to Daisy in relative privacy, but no misbehavior would be tolerated.
Tristan was still wearing his coat, so Daisy murmured that she’d fetch her cape before they went outside.
The gardens of Wildwood Hall were quiet, the plants dried and brown, the trees bare. Winter hovered, about to sweep in any day now. Daisy walked down the brick paths, unable to say a word. At last, Tristan said, “You have no idea what it’s been like since you left. Never has a person vanished so completely. I thought you were dead.”
“How did you find me?”
“Miss Bella remembered the school and suggested you might have come here.”
“So you rode out here on a whim?”
“I’d ride over the whole island to find you,” he said simply, and Daisy’s heart pounded at the emotion in his words.
