Page 55 of Daisy and the Duke
“What a fairy story!” The vicar snorted in derision. “You mean to suggest that some benefactor simply sent you an expensive gown through thepost?”
“That’s what happened.”
Mr. Kemble took a few steps onto the stairs. “Your grace, I—”
Lyon put up a hand. “I’ll ask the questions.”
Daisy wanted to sob.Questions.So no one believed her, not even Tristan. And why should they? Unless she could produce her fairy godmother…
All round, people were talking, arguing. Daisy heard her name, she heard comments about the quality of the dresses and the depth of Daisy’s personal poverty. And in the center of it all was Tristan. He’d shared a bed with her less than an hour ago, but now he appeared to be acting as judge.
Kemble moved toward Tristan, and they exchanged a few muttered words.
“You are a thief,” the vicar spat then, as Daisy backed away from him. “I have it on good authority that you told your stepmother that you had no suitable outfit for this evening. And yet you now appear in something far beyond your means.”
“Perhaps she borrowed it from her stepsister,” Kemble offered.
But Bella shook her head, looking as bewildered as Daisy. “The gown is not mine. I wish it were!”
“So where did it come from?” the vicar pressed, looming over Daisy. “You stole it. Who knows what else you may have taken over the years, possibly from Rutherford Grange itself!”
“I would never! Rutherford Grange is my home!” Daisy objected.
At the same moment, Mr. Kemble said, “Your accusations are now growing spurious, sir. What proof have you thatanythinghas gone missing from Rutherford Grange, let alone that something has been forcibly removed?”
“I know an opportunist when I see one,” the vicar continued. “There is a term for a woman who receives costly gifts from unnamed givers.”
Bella gave a little gasp of shock, a sound echoed by several other ladies in hearing range. Lady Rutherford looked grim, and faced Daisy with cold eyes. “I believe this discussion should continue in a less public venue.”
Daisy shrank from the tirade. She searched for Tristan, and caught his gaze, but saw only coldness there. Not a trace of love or support.
Before Tristan could say anything more, she was running, through the startled crowd, past the outbuildings, past the pond, and out into the fields.
Shouts echoed behind her, and she heard the sounds of footsteps. But she was fueled by fear, and that made her fly. She plunged into the darkness of the night, running through the fallow fields, lost to view. Where she was running to, she didn’t know. All that mattered was that she got away from Lyondale, and Tristan, and everyone who wanted to hurt her.
Just then, Daisy’s foot struck a rock and her slipper got caught on the jagged edge. Her continued movement ripped the delicate shoe right off her foot, but Daisy could hardly stop to retrieve it, not when she was being pursued. She left the destroyed slipper behind.
Why not? It was fitting. The whole evening was destroyed, her whole life was destroyed, and all because of her desire to pretend to be something she wasn’t. She never should have opened the mysterious parcel, and she never should have put on the dress. How could something so beautiful bring such misery?
Chapter 14
Mercifully, the sound of explosionshad stopped. Tristan blinked, trying to remember where he was, because for some period of time, and he could not say how long, he was in two places at once. First, there on the balcony with Daisy, about to tell her something very important, something she needed to hear…and also back in the war, with shouts in the distance and the reverberations of dropped shells and the barrage of cannon fire. It was impossible to sort out, and when he heard a scream and saw Daisy’s face lit in a fiery red, his mind just shut down.
He didn’t know what to do, or where he was, or evenwhenhe was. Tristan had had nightmares like this in the early days, in hospital. He hated them more than anything else, more than the pain of the wounds, or the stink of the operating rooms, or the moans of the other soldiers. He couldn’t escape the nightmares, which left him feeling helpless and weak. One of the doctors told him that the nightmares would fade, and he should just “man up” until then.
After the doctor left, the soldier in the bed next to him, a man who’d lost a leg above the knee, had muttered, “He’s an idiot. He doesn’t know whatwedream. I dream I’m running away, and at least in the nightmares, I’ve still got legs to run….”
Tristan had nodded, but said nothing. What could be said?
And now, nearly two years later, far away at Lyondale, he was still suffering, still being incapacitated by his old wounds.
He heard Daisy’s voice, but then it was gone. Panic filled him, and he tried to follow where he thought she’d gone. He couldn’t lose Daisy, not now! Tristan wasn’t sure where he was going, but he followed the sounds of voices. Along the way, a few people spoke to him, but he ignored them completely.
Then he saw Daisy. Thank God. But something was wrong, and there was some argument. His mind not fully back to the present, he tried to follow the thread, but only got confused. Something about theft? And Daisy? He couldn’t put the ideas together, and kept repeating what others said, and then he shuddered, his brain finally snapping back to where his body was.
He stood on the front steps of Lyondale. The party guests were all gathered around, having been drawn away from the fireworks display to this sudden drama. Hornthwaite gripped Daisy’s mask in his hand, pointing at her in a self-righteous but sly fury. Tristan realized all at once that her identity had been revealed, and more than that, she was being denounced as a criminal.
She pleaded with Hornthwaite, who refused to back down. Daisy looked to Tristan for help, but he didn’t even know how to react, still half-stunned. Inside, Tristan was furious. Seeing Daisy so hurt by the accusations made him want tobreakthings. But his voice and his body were taking too much time to stir.
