Page 23 of Daisy and the Duke
“Left? Without one of her daughters?” he asked, puzzled.
“It was my fault,” Daisy interjected. “Earlier, I spilled wine on Bella’s gown. It was an accident, but I’m afraid I quite ruined her evening.”
The footman nodded in confirmation. “The baroness called for their carriage immediately. The lady said her daughter couldn’t be seen in company after the…incident.”
From the footman’s tone, it seemed he was glad they were gone. So was Daisy, except for the fact that they’d taken the carriage, leaving her stranded. She gazed at Tristan’s hand, since he was still arm in arm with her, though the pretense for any kind of formal “escort” had evaporated the moment they’d stepped into the house.
He noticed her gaze and put his hand down, out of her sight.
She looked at his face again, and was caught by his eyes, which were shadowed in the poor light of the foyer, but still watching her with an indecipherable expression. Daisy had never been good at conversation, and definitely not with a duke, or any man who insisted on looking at her sosteadily. “I should go. It’s a long walk back, and—”
Tristan was incredulous. “You’d walk three miles in the dark wearing evening slippers, Miss Merriot? Not likely.”
Before Daisy could object, the duke ordered for his own carriage to be brought up to the front of the house.
“Certainly, your grace,” a footman said. “It will take a quarter hour—we’d not been anticipating needing any carriages until tomorrow.”
“Fine, that shall give me time to bid good-night to the other guests.”
This task was performed with startling efficiency. The guests had obviously been expecting to stay much longer—an evening in the drawing room with some music or entertainment, and no doubt more of the duke’s excellent food and drink. But instead, they found themselves hustled out to the foyer, and draped with their cloaks and outerwear while nearly stepping over themselves to thank the duke for his hospitality.
The duke kept Daisy near him as he bid the other guests goodbye. When he spoke to Lady Weatherby and her daughter, he thanked Lady Caroline for her scintillating conversation, sarcasm that neither woman appeared to notice.
Hornthwaite left after reminding Lyon once again that it would be well for the lord to appear in the village church sooner rather than later. Tristan gave a noncommittal answer. The last of the guests besides Daisy left, and Tristan sighed with relief.
“That’sdone,” he said. He turned to the majordomo. “From now on, only people I actually enjoy being around are allowed on the property. Have the footmen shoot anyone else.”
“Yes, your grace,” the majordomo replied.
“I believe he’s joking,” Daisy added hastily.
“Yes, miss. I’ll supply the footmen with blanks to maintain the effect.”
Tristan laughed. “That will do,” he said. He seemed entirely recovered from any annoyance by Daisy’s behavior in the garden or the hassle of unwanted dinner guests. “Is my carriage ready now?”
“Yes, your grace.”
“Excellent. I shall take Miss Merriot home.”
“Yourself!” Daisy said in surprise. “But I can’t bother you further, your grace.”
“No bother at all. I would not have it said that I would allow a young lady to be sent off alone into the night.” With a nod of his head, Lyon indicated his wishes, and the staff all leapt to accommodate him.
Well, Daisy thought. He may not have been Duke of Lyon very long, but there was no question that he was the lord now. He walked with Daisy to the coach and helped her in himself, leaving a slightly startled footman in his wake.
In the carriage, he sat opposite her as the driver urged the horses on. “Once again, I must thank you for coming tonight,” he said in a low voice.
“I have a question about that, your grace. Why wasIinvited?”
“Jack—Mr. Kemble, that is—thought you’d be a good addition to the party.”
“Ah,” she said. So Tristan had nothing to do with it. “I am sorry to have disappointed him.”
“Disappointed? What makes you say that?”
“My conversation is thoroughly provincial. I talked about crop rotation.”
“Your conversation wasn’t why we included you. Miss Merriot, yourpresencewas key. On three separate occasions, I nearly yelled at the whole party to get out.”
