Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“Well, well…she is quite plump in the pocket, eh?” Lord Claymore looked up at the imposing townhouse that belonged to Lady Archworth.
“Don’t be crude, Father,” Daisy said reproachfully.
“Whyever not? There’s nobody here to hear me but you.”
Just then, the front door opened, and a butler appeared, making Daisy jerk in surprise. “Oh!” She clutched her chest. “Where did you come from?”
“It is my job to listen for the carriages to arrive, my lady,” the butler said and bowed. “You’re welcome to come in, Lady Daisy and…?” He paused inquiringly, his eyes on Lord Claymore.
She was puzzled for a moment. Surely, if the Dowager Marchioness and Duke had told their servant she would be arriving today, they must have also mentioned that her father would be accompanying her.
Then again, when we met, I was without a chaperone.
Daisy allowed herself only a split second to mull over this quandary, then did the proper thing and introduced her father.
“This is my father, the Earl of Claymore,” Daisy said.
The butler nodded. “Do come in. His Grace and Her Ladyship are waiting in the parlor.”
Daisy took a deep breath and began to climb the stairs to the front door.
It had rained not half an hour before, and so the steps were wet.
She kept her head down, determined not to fall in her heeled slippers.
Her heart rate was still erratic from being startled, and now she was nervous about meeting the Duke again and making her proposal to the Dowager Marchioness.
She had known that the Dowager must be quite well off, but like her father, she’d been unprepared for the type of wealth on display.
They walked down the thickly carpeted corridor, lit up with lamps embedded in sconces that lined both walls and were interspersed amongst enormous, glorious paintings.
The walls were made of dark wood, and they passed various closed doors as the butler led them to the parlor.
Finally, he opened a pair of double doors built into an arch and announced them. “The Earl of Claymore and his daughter, Lady Daisy Murray.”
Daisy stepped into the room, feeling like an imposter while her father strutted ahead of her, chin raised proudly as he looked around at the company. Daisy was surprised by the size of the group, noting that it was comprised of some prominent ton families.
I had not thought the Dowager’s dinner invitation would include so many.
Her eyes scanned the gathering anxiously, and Daisy was relieved to find that Lydia was present.
At least there is somebody I can talk to without feeling intimidated.
Her father clearly suffered from no such nerves. He walked up to Lady Archworth and raised her fingers to his lips in greeting.
“Very happy to make your acquaintance,” he murmured before kissing her knuckles.
The Dowager stared down the length of her aquiline nose at Lord Claymore. Daisy sucked in a deep breath and held it, hoping the awkwardness would ebb away as soon as the Dowager responded. But then, the moment of unease lengthened.
“My daughter tells me she rescued your great-nephew from certain death,” her father added in a pompous way, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Daisy blushed, turning her face away in embarrassment. She had indeed told her father about the incident, but only to explain why they were invited. He was making it sound as if she were boasting.
“Yes, she did,” the Dowager Marchioness said primly. “We are most grateful for her quick actions.”
“Yes, my daughter has always been quick on the uptake, you’ll find. Chip off the old block.” He beamed at everyone who was listening, and Daisy groaned under her breath.
This evening is off to a disastrous beginning.
Lady Archworth stepped to the side, leaving her father to wax lyrical about Daisy’s alleged exploits to a couple who were perched on a nearby settee. The Dowager then approached Daisy with a smile on her face.
“Very glad to see you again, Lady Daisy. I’m so glad you could join us.”
Still suffering the sting of mortification, Daisy fixed a feeble smile on her face and said in a papery thin voice, “I do apologize for my father.” She lowered her tone further so that her words would be inaudible to all except for the Dowager, “He can be a bit… enthusiastic.”
The Dowager laughed brightly. “Oh, I have lived long enough to have seen all types. Don’t worry your little head about it. We all have unfortunate relatives.”
She patted Daisy’s hand before going to stand in the middle of the room and clapping her hands together.
“Ladies and gentlemen, now that we are all here, we can adjourn to the dining hall.”
Everyone got to their feet and started to shuffle out of the room in pairs.
Daisy waited at the back of the room until everyone had left before following them.
Her cheeks still felt heated from embarrassment.
It did not help that her father had instantly offered his arm to Lady Chavelle, a prominent member of the ton, in order to escort her to the dining room.
She scuffed her slippers through the thick carpet and took a deep breath.
I can do this. I can hold my head up high and…
“Erm…”
Daisy had thought she was alone in the room, but the sound of a man clearing his throat caught her attention.
“Oh…”
She glanced up to see the Duke of Blackvale standing right in front of her.
“I…er…” His brown eyes were lighter than she had recollected.
Before, when she’d first made his acquaintance, she would’ve sworn the irises were the color of treacle, but now, standing in the well-lit parlor, all on their own, she noticed hints of caramel and toffee-hued swirls brightening those suddenly quite unique orbs.
“Your Grace?” Daisy prompted when he cleared his throat a second time.
Stiffly, he raised his right arm and offered it to her. “Might I have the honor of escorting you to dinner, Lady Daisy?”
“You…yes… Thank you.” Daisy stumbled over her words, mostly because this was another unexpected surprise.
As a Duke, and moreover, as the nephew to the hostess, His Grace should have exited the room immediately and helped his aunt lead the guests into the dining hall.
But here he is…waiting for me.
Daisy could not help but be flattered as she accepted his proffered arm.
He towed her gently toward the doorway, then they continued walking down a narrow corridor.
Once they reached the dining hall, Daisy assumed they would part ways.
He would deposit her in a seat near the foot of the table, whilst he, naturally, would move toward the head. But again, she thought wrongly.
“Aunt Regina placed you here,” the Duke said, nodding toward a pair of vacant seats. “Next to me.”
“I…” Daisy was befuddled.
She cast a quick look around the room. She spotted Lydia, who was beaming back at her happily. And then there was her father, who was deep in conversation with a lady who was seated on his left. As Daisy cataloged the other guests, she realized that there had been no error.
She was meant to sit next to the Duke.
“Yes, of course,” she said softly as she removed her hand from his arm so that the Duke might step back.
Then, quite gallantly, he pulled her chair from the table and motioned for her to sit. It was the sort of thing a butler or footman might do, but Daisy was once more bemused and slightly gratified to see the Duke perform such a function.
She sat quietly as the first course was served, a delicious tomato soup with freshly baked bread. She took a deep breath and turned to the Duke with a smile. Once she took a slow sip of the delectable soup, she felt fortified enough to make conversation with her dinner companion.
“And how is the young Harry? I trust he’s fully recovered from his scare.”
The Duke slid a sidelong glance in her direction. “Yes, he’s quite all right after you ‘saved him’ from being trampled.”
Daisy rolled her eyes at the Duke quoting the Earl. “My father likes to exaggerate.”
He raised an eyebrow, humming noncommittally.
Daisy shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her face, once again, on fire. She cleared her throat. “May I ask you not to mind him at all?”
“If you insist.” He lifted his spoon and swallowed some soup.
She blinked at him, unsure of what to make of his brief responses.
“So, where is Harry this evening? I thought I would see him.”
“You thought wrong.”
“Yes,” she mused. “Apparently, I misunderstood everything.”
Daisy knew that she was the one doing a bit of exaggerating now, but not one single thing about this dinner had gone as she had anticipated.
In her mind’s eye, she had thought this would be a quiet, rather intimate gathering in which only she, her father, and the Dowager’s relatives were present.
Instead, she was surrounded by at least twenty members of the ton and stuck sitting next to the Duke, who seemed quite reluctant to engage with her.
“Lady Daisy,” the Dowager Marchioness cut in just as Daisy was preparing to explain her own comment more fully, “that is a lovely gown you are wearing. The color brings out your beautiful eyes.”
Daisy smiled, looking down at her gown that was the color of polished jade stones.
It had belonged to her mother, who had ordered the silk from China and then had it made by a local seamstress.
Wearing it made Daisy feel closer to her late mother, and it was one of the few gowns she had left that was suitable for such company.
“Th-thank you, Lady Archworth,” she said.
The Dowager Marchioness turned to the Duke. “Don’t you agree, nephew? Don’t you think Lady Daisy is rather becoming in that frock?”
The Duke looked up from his soup. His right eyebrow arched high on his forehead as he turned a quizzical expression first on his aunt, then Daisy. His eyes barely flicked toward her before he answered, “It’s certainly… eye-catching.”
Daisy bristled. His words were not quite complimentary, nor were they scathing. Yet, she felt as though he was silently judging her.
Calm yourself, Daisy.
She blew a heated breath through pursed lips.