Page 54 of Daisy and the Duke
Daisy opened her mouth and then closed it. Tristan kissed her senseless, made her into a woman, but he had never even suggested he was intending anything like marriage.
“That’s none of your business,” she managed. Her voice came out thin and weak.
“Seeing as I’m the vicar of your church, it is in fact my business. Who do you think conducts marriage ceremonies around here? And his lordship has said nothing to me about anything involving a marriage. Not a marriage to the Hon. Miss Bella Merriot, which is what we hope for. Andcertainlynot to a ragamuffin like you.”
Lady Rutherford rushed up, looking askance at Daisy. “My goodness, it wasyou?” she asked, horror in her tone.
“Please, his grace needs help!” Daisy said, trying to draw the focus away from her to the real problem. “The fireworks—”
“You shouldn’t be here,” the baroness said, her horror turning to rage. “I made that clear, and you agreed. You lied to me, Daisy!”
Daisy was so upset she couldn’t even talk anymore. When Mr. Kemble walked up, Bella on his arm, asking what was the matter, Daisy just shook her head helplessly.
“That necklace,” Lady Rutherford said, pointing to Daisy’s throat. “It’s real rubies! Where did it come from?”
Daisy raised a hand to her chest, to hide the necklace from her acquisitive stepmother’s eyes. “It is mine.”
“Where did you get it?” the baroness pressed.
“It was my mother’s.”
“So you say. But I’ve never seen it.”
“As if I’d let you see it!” Daisy burst out. “I hid it, because I noticed so many other things going missing after you got to them. You’ve been selling them off one by one.”
“How dare you!” the baroness practically spat out.
“Now hold on a moment. Where is his grace?” Mr. Kemble asked.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell everyone,” Daisy burst out. “He’s…”
“I’m here.” Lyon himself spoke from behind her, his voice distant and cold. “What the hell is going on?”
Daisy tried to say something, anything, but she couldn’t.
Hornthwaite raised the butterfly mask in his hands. “Nothing to concern you, your grace. We’ve discovered that this girl is a thief. A matter the family will deal with.”
“What?” The duke looked shocked—perhaps even more shocked than he’d been by the flash and pop of the fireworks.
“Not only did she come here and lie about her identity, everything she’s got on is stolen!” the vicar pronounced.
“Stolen?”
“Yes, your grace. The gown, the jewelry, the shoes. The baroness did not purchase them for her, and how does a woman with no money procure such things otherwise?” The vicar let the insinuations in his words linger for the whole crowd to hear. Daisy wanted to die.
Tristan’s eyes found Daisy, and she just shook her head. He couldn’t possibly think that she stole the gown. Yet who would believe the truth?
Low mutterings began to spread through the crowd, which had now gathered to surround the front steps of Lyondale to watch this new version of fireworks, surely even more of a spectacle.
“This is quite an accusation,” Tristan said slowly.
“Where did you get the gown?” Hornthwaite demanded.
Daisy said weakly, “It was a gift.”
“From who?”
She paused, then said, “I don’t know. It arrived in a box at Rutherford Grange. The box was addressed to me.”
