Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Daisy startled awake the following morning, her body still hot from dreams of the Duke’s hand exploring her uninhibited.
She recalled his hot breath blowing against her ear, and her mind lingered over the way his tongue had traced patterns on the seam of her upper lip before plunging into her mouth and plundering her.
Her body felt slick with sweat and other wetness she could not identify.
“Lady Daisy?”
She jumped, gasping as she looked towards the door, but then recognized Amina’s voice and tried to control herself. “Y-yes?”
“Miss Kerwood has arrived to see you.”
“Oh. Give me a moment.” She pushed off her duvet and put her feet on the cold floor.
Daisy shivered as she crossed over to the jug of chilly water. She poured some water into the basin and washed her face, shivering in the early morning cold. The fire had long gone out in the fireplace with no one to tend it.
She covered herself with a shawl as she conducted the rest of her ablutions and chose her light blue muslin gown to wear. Sweeping out of the room, she walked downstairs and into the parlor with a smile on her face. Lydia got to her feet, hands held out to Daisy.
“Good morning, my friend. How are you today?”
She sighed deeply, her cheeks rosy as her thoughts went immediately to the Duke. “I am well. And you?”
Lydia nodded. “I am fine. I thought we might go out and visit the modiste. I need some new gowns now that I am left on the marriage mart all on my own,” she teased with a smile.
“I have no doubt you will find the man you’ll accept as your husband.”
“But first, you should break your fast. Amina said she woke you just now.”
“No, it’s fine. We can go.”
“Nonsense.” Lydia reached out to ring the bell, as if she were the mistress of the house. “You must at least have a scone and some tea.”
Daisy nodded reluctantly and took a seat while Lydia took charge of ordering breakfast. She ate the scone and drank the tea as fast as she could before she and Lydia took off for the town.
They stopped first at the Haberdashery to pick up lace and ribbons before going to the draper’s to look over some fabrics.
Daisy purchased a toffee-colored ribbon that sparkled in the sunlight, which reminded her of the Duke’s eyes, while Lydia bought a green ribbon to wear in her hair. She also purchased an array of red and blue ribbons, which she claimed would match a gown she planned to wear soon.
“Give me some of that blue muslin,” Lydia said to the draper, pointing to a bolt of sky-blue fabric.
Daisy nodded with approval. “It will look well with your blue eyes.”
Her friend smiled. “Thank you. Are you not going to buy any fabrics?”
Daisy smiled awkwardly, shaking her head. She certainly had no money for any gowns and other finery, but if she told Lydia that, she knew her friend would insist on buying her something.
She’d had quite enough charity. Still, her hand could not help running down a beautiful emerald silk fabric with gold accents. She ran her fingers down it, relishing the softness of the fabric, envisaging how it might have looked draped upon her.
I already own an emerald gown. I do not need another.
Even though this thought was sensible, Daisy could not help but wonder how it would feel to be able to make a purchase without so much calculation.
How many meals could I afford instead of this fabric? How many candles? How much firewood?
A wave of tiredness went through her. She did not know how much longer she could live like this.
Edmund was strolling down the busy street, on his way to purchase a few treats for Harry, when he caught sight of Lady Daisy and her companion, Miss Lydia Kerwood, entering a draper’s.
He paused to watch them through the window, surveying the scene as Daisy trailed after her friend, looking wistful as she fingered first one fabric then another.
She stopped at one particular green fabric, looking longingly at it as she ran her fingers up and down caressingly before putting it down with obvious reluctance.
She and her companion spoke for a while, purchased two bolts of cloth her friend chose and walked out. Edmund ducked into the alley so that they would not see him as they continued down the street towards the modiste.
Edmund watched them go, and then his eyes went back to the draper’s. On impulse, he walked into the shop.
Retracing Daisy’s steps, he pointed out every fabric she’d touched. “I would like to purchase these.”
“Yes, of course.” The shop assistant hurried to gather all three fabrics that Edmund indicated. “Where shall we send them?” she asked.
He smiled. “Send the first two to the Claymore residence to be delivered to Lady Daisy Murray.”
The assistant’s eyes widened. “Oh...it’ll be done right away.”
“For the green fabric, forward it to Madame Lecraux to be made into a gown. She is to send me the bill.”
Since he had not introduced himself, nor had he ever entered this shop before, Edmund placed his card on the counter and waited so that the shop assistant could inspect it.
He read the card quickly, then raised his chin so he could meet Edmund’s gaze. “Yes, Your Grace. It will be done.”
“Good.” He nodded and walked out of the shop.
He made his way to White’s, where he was to meet Winston for a drink. As he walked, he tried to fathom why on earth he’d walked into that draper’s.
Why did I buy her those fabrics?
He recalled the look of longing on her face as she’d fingered the exquisite materials.
That…that’s why. Because she wanted them.
Edmund rarely splurged. He did not make a habit of walking into shops and selecting handsome pocket watches or silver toothpick boxes.
Nor was he the sort to lavish his loved ones with extravagant gifts.
He brought Harry presents when it was appropriate and ordered clothing once the child had outgrown what was already in his closet.
So, why did I feel the need to give Lady Daisy what she desired?
Unbidden, a recollection of the kiss they shared flooded his memory. The softness of her cheek, the feel of her lips scraping against his…He was reminded of all of it so vividly that Edmund was certain that if he turned around on the spot and looked, he might find Daisy standing right behind him.
He did not turn around, nor did he stop walking. Instead of indulging in this fantasy, he picked up the pace and moved more briskly down the sidewalk.
Half an hour later, he stepped into White’s, trying to clear his mind of his confusing thoughts. Winston lifted his hand to get his attention from where he sat at a corner table near the window. Edmund joined his friend.
A waiter materialized almost as soon as he sat down, and Edmund ordered a bottle of brandy.
“Oh, are we getting jug-bitten today?” Winston asked with a quirk of his brow.
Edmund sighed deeply. “Yes, I need it.”
Winston frowned. “Tell me more.”
He shook his head. “Nothing to tell. Just… thoughts.”
“Thoughts?” Winston repeated the word skeptically as though he had never heard the like.
Edmund nodded glumly. “Yes. And if it’s all the same to you, I would prefer not to speak of it.”
“Very well.” Winston lifted his glass. “Let’s talk of other things, then.”
They worked their way slowly through the bottle of brandy and called for food. A platter of meat and bread arrived as they socialized with other members of the club who came to their table, while also carrying on their own conversations.
Throughout, the image of Daisy haunted Edmund’s mind. The temptation to go and knock at her door, just so he might kiss her again, was strong.
What is happening to me?
His mind went back to the day before, finding her hunched over and halfway to hysteria. The urge to protect her was irresistible, and he’d reached out to her.
When did my regard for her change? When did my pretend feelings start to become real?
Perhaps she was right to question him because the amount of willpower it was taking to stay seated and talk to Winston instead of roaming the streets, trying to seek her out, was concerning.
“Something wrong?” Winston asked.
“No.” He looked up at his friend. “Why?”
Winston gave him a cynical look. He pointed toward the left side of Edmund’s face. “You look worried, but also your eyebrow has been arched in that manner for nearly a quarter of an hour. I figure you have either been puzzling over some complex problem or you have frozen in place.”
Edmund gave him a weak grin. “I have not frozen, as you can see perfectly well.”
Winston laughed, but then he grew serious. “If there is something troubling you, you know you can speak of it with me. I will keep your confidence.”
“I know you will. I have no doubt.”
“Well then?”
He sighed. “I cannot. There’s nothing really to tell. I am just…beset by unfamiliar emotion, and I don’t know what to do with it.”
Winston nodded sagely. “You mean because of the lady?”
Edmund gave him a sharp look. “Do you mean Lady Daisy?”
Winston snickered. “Is there any other lady we might wish to discuss?”
Edmund leaned back, tapping his hand on the table next to his glass. He had drunk only a few sips and now was suddenly feeling parched. “What am I to do?”
Winston laughed. “Nothing you haven’t already done,” he said smartly. “She is to be your bride. It is good that you regard her well.”
Edmund pursed his lips and nodded once. It was difficult to speak to anyone without betraying Daisy.
I suppose I shall just have to sort this out for myself.
Daisy was having a desultory breakfast in the sunroom when Amina came in, jittering with excitement.
“My lady, some packages have been delivered for you.”
She raised both eyebrows in surprise. “Packages? For me? Are you sure?”
Amina was nodding frantically, practically jumping up and down. “Yes, they’re from Bond Street.”
Daisy’s heart sank. “Who…?”
“I don’t know, my lady. If you’d follow me, I can show you,” Amina said with a curtsy, and Daisy followed her down the corridor and to the foyer.
Daisy went down to her knees as she touched the boxes in wonder. She opened the first to see bolts of cloth in silk and muslin in various shades of green. She gasped, recognizing both as the ones she’d admired in the draper’s shop.
“But… how? Did my father order these?”
Amina snorted derisively. Then, she seemed to realize how her reaction could be misconstrued, and she said softly, “I doubt that very much, my lady.”
Daisy opened the second box and was struck speechless. It was the emerald-green silk with gold accents. Someone had made a gown of it and sent it to her.
“Is there a note perhaps, my lady?” Amina asked, hovering excitedly behind her.
“Good thinking,” Daisy said, searching beneath and between the fabrics in the first box for a receipt of goods or a note.
“The cover!” Amina muttered, pointing at it, and Daisy reached for it and turned it.
For sure, there was a label, indicating that the goods had come from Clark it was far from sentimental.
A dignified note, which comes across as sincere but not high-strung. Yes, that’s the tone I want.
She bent over the paper and began to write.