Page 49 of Daisy and the Duke
“It must be. You look more beautiful than ever.”
“It is a lovely dress,” she said, happy to be wearing it even if it was only for a night and it might vanish tomorrow.
“No. I mean, it is. Butyoulook beautiful. It has nothing to do with the dress. It’s your smile, and…everything else. Lord, I’m bad at this, aren’t I?”
Daisy flushed. “It sounds good to me.”
“I would beg another dance.” He glanced at the clock. “Unfortunately, I have to address the guests now. The time for my plan has come. Will you stand right here?”
Daisy nodded, suddenly very curious.
Lyon walked to the center of the room, and took command of the party without even raising his voice. He thanked everyone for coming, and then moved so smoothly into the real meat of his announcement that he was halfway through before people truly realized the import of what he was saying.
Daisy listened avidly. The recent years of indolence and neglect were over. There would be changes. New practices. New ideas. New orders, and new expectations, inspired by forward-thinking people he’d been discussing the matter with. Daisy realized he was referring to her. People might feel discomfited, he went on. They might not like it. But Lyon was determined to make Lyondale a model of modern agriculture, able to support everyone living there, from the lord on down to the most humble tenants.
He didn’t go into too many specifics, but it was obvious that this was not a mere whim. Changewouldhappen. And Lord Lyon would be the one changing things. People suddenly understood that the newest Duke of Lyon was not content to mold himself into the shape they expected. He would change the shape of his inheritance to suit him.
Come along with me or get out of my way, his eyes said.
Daisy looked around. She could tell from the stiff postures and pinched faces that some didn’t like it. Yet most people were listening. They were wary, but definitely listening.
“I look forward to many years at Lyondale,” he concluded. “And better lives for everyone on the estate and in the village of Lyonton. But for now, enjoy the rest of the evening. As a special treat, we’ve arranged for a fireworks show later tonight. Listen for the announcement of when to gather on the lawn.”
Applause broke out as he signaled the end of his speech. Some of the reactions were strained, Daisy noted. But many more were enthusiastic.
“Well?” he said, returning to her side. His face was more relaxed now, and she realized how nervous he’d been the whole evening. “Have I given the whole parish a collective fit?”
“Only the few people still living in the sixteenth century,” Daisy responded. “But you’re right. It’s time to try out new ideas.”
“Speaking of new ideas,” he said with a wicked light in his eyes. “Lady Wildwood, come upstairs with me.”
“Your grace,” Daisy breathed. Oh, how she wanted to, and oh how scandalous it would be.
“Please, Daisy,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “No one will know. It’s a masquerade, and I wager you never told your stepmother you’d be attending.”
“I didn’t know it myself until an hour before.”
“Perfect. Here, you’re the mysterious Lady Wildwood—you’ll vanish before dawn, leaving nothing but questions. Indulge me.”
Chapter 13
Daisy took his hand andallowed him to escort her away from the glitter and din of the party, down the long hallways of his massive home, farther and farther into private territory. Daisy realized that for all she had done with Tristan, she’d never seen where he slept.
The private chambers of the duke turned out to be at the far end of the west wing, facing out to the large meadow and the pond. The rooms were large and lofty, lit by candlelight. A manservant was working within, tidying up. He looked startled at the arrival of the duke. If he was equally startled to notice that the duke was accompanied by a masked woman, he gave no sign.
“Light the fire, then leave us,” Tristan ordered abruptly.
The servant nodded and obeyed. He managed to not look toward Lady Wildwood once while he completed his task and made his way to the door. It was as if she were not there at all…except for how the servant made a deliberately wide circle around her.
When the door closed, Tristan moved to turn the key in the lock, and then pulled the key out.
“At last,” he sighed. He walked back to Daisy, gently removing her silken butterfly mask. “Now I can see you properly.” He leaned forward, taking her mouth for a kiss. It was hungry, demanding, even desperate. Daisy recognized the emotions because she felt them all herself.
“Tristan,” she murmured, reaching for him, running her fingers through his hair, reacquainting herself with the feel of his skin beneath her fingers.
“It was torture until you arrived tonight,” he said. He pressed his hand against her lower back, drawing her body against his. She let her curves mold themselves to his own muscles, then slid her hands up along the front of his chest, clinging to the jacket as she kissed him back with an unstudied eagerness.
Tris slid his tongue along her lower lip, drawing out a shaky little sigh from Daisy. She closed her eyes to more fully experience the sensation. His attentions left her flushed, her lip wet. Her breaths came quick and soft, her chest swelling every few moments.
