Daisy and the Duke by Elizabeth Cole

Chapter 7

Dear Daisy,

I was recently looking through my trunk of old school things, and I pulled out nothing less than the Crown! Can you believe it? I forgot that I had it, but I must have been the last Fairy Tale Queen before we all left Wildwood Hall. I remember when you first made the Crown out of the old pasteboard hatbox and the glass beads. How carefully you sewed them in, and I teased you the whole time, thinking that the thread would rip through that pasteboard in a fortnight. Well, the joke is on me, for all these years later, the Crown’s “jewels” are holding fast. I put it on my head and looked in the mirror, and how I laughed at my silly image. And then I wanted to cry, because you didn’t get enough chances to wear it yourself, leaving school so soon. I still say it was cruel of your stepmother to keep you there. You missed too many turns as Fairy Tale Queen, being able to tell us others to pick up your plates and to fetch you more tea. I may send you the crown in the post, so you can wear it. Or perhaps I’ll send it to Poppy first, for sprucing up. She’s got the millinery connection now, and though the beads are still on, the silk is looking a bit worn! I suspect Poppy would have a scrap or two to spare.

Write to me soon and tell me all the excitement in Gloucestershire, for I assure you there’s none here, hence my pawing through the old trunk….

Much love,

Heather

Daisy chuckled as she read the rest of the letter, remembering the funny old “crown” she’d created for make believe. The girls had dreamed up a whole kingdom to go with it, and they took turns playing Queen, rotating every Saturday. Whoever had the crown could order the others about, directing them to perform small tasks and silly tricks. But one had to be very careful and not abuse the power, for another head would wear the Crown soon enough!

It had been so long since those days. Daisy sighed, thinking of how happy she’d been at Wildwood Hall, and how much she missed her dear friends. It was good to be reminded…especially now.

A few days had passed since the dinner at the duke’s home. Daisy had been distracted for most of her waking hours, and by night her dreams had got quite out of hand. In them she walked at Tristan’s side while he presided over Lyondale during the days, and at night…well, Daisy awoke feeling hot and flustered, aware of new desires that she’d never been bothered by previously in her quiet life.

Yet no matter how she felt, work remained to be done.

One afternoon, Daisy had just walked into the parlor with a tray holding tea things and put it on the low table between Bella and the baroness, when a housemaid entered behind her, bearing another little tray. She carried this directly to Lady Rutherford.

“Just arrived, my lady,” the maid announced in a breathless tone. “It bears the duke’s seal!”

Hence the excitement, Daisy thought. Even the household servants were interested in the activities of this new duke. To be fair, this corner of England was not generally overwhelmed with news.

The maid stepped back, but hovered, clearly hoping to glean information about the contents of this letter. So did Daisy, for that matter.

Lady Rutherford broke the seal and read the paper. An expression of real joy spread across her face. “An invitation from the duke to join a riding party! How wonderful.”

“I don’t always like riding when the weather turns,” Bella said, with considerably less joy. “The ground gets so muddy.”

“Nonsense, dear. With your new riding outfit, you will look ravishing next to the duke.”

“He’s invited me particularly?” Bella asked, her eyebrows arching.

“No, the invitation is addressed to all the ladies of the house.” The baroness looked chagrined as she realized that included Daisy. Clearly, she’d not meant to reveal that in Daisy’s presence.

But Daisy had no intention of joining the party. She knew that she did not truly belong. “That was most polite of the duke to include me, but I could not join anyway. I’ve no outfit that would suit the occasion.” Daisy in fact hadn’t owned a riding habit since her school days, and she’d look like a ragamuffin in her country clothes, a laughingstock next to the aristocratic guests in their finery.

“Oh, you may borrow my spare habit,” Bella said, the offer surprising both Daisy and Lady Rutherford.

“Bella!” her mother chided.

“No, I couldn’t. Anyway, I’ve much to do here at the Grange that day,” Daisy added quickly, not wanting to incur the wrath of her stepmother by inserting herself into the event.

Bella ignored Daisy’s objection. “Mama, it would not do to appear that any of us are ungrateful for the invitation. Who refuses a duke? And Daisy will fit into my old brown habit. It was too loose on me.”

“The brown habit,” her mother mused, growing calm again. “Yes, that would be fine, I suppose.” She smiled, probably thinking of just how awkward and out of place Daisy would be at the event, even in better clothes. Daisy barely rode anymore. “I shall accept the invitation on behalf of us all.”

Daisy wasn’t sure why Bella offered the use of her old outfit, and she suspected it was out of pity. But as her stepsister noted, it was not the thing to refuse a duke. It looked like Daisy was going riding after all.

On the day of the ride, the trio of women arrived at Lyondale at the appointed hour. A small crowd of others had gathered—the duke’s riding party was evidently rather grand. Miss Wallis, looking very modish in a pale blue riding habit, greeted the guests with her usual grace.

Several grooms were present to lead the guests and point out obstacles, and to serve the inevitable requests that the guests would make. In addition to the grooms, there was a phalanx of younger boys, who were in charge of holding the guests’ horses and tending to their needs. Nearer the house, maids stood ready with various accoutrements—fresh water, cloths to wash off dirt, even sewing needles in case one of the female guests required assistance with her appearance.

So many people just to allow a few riders to enjoy the day, Daisy thought. Rutherford Grange was a great house too, but the difference between what went on there and what was needed for a duke’s lifestyle was remarkable. Tristan truly lived on another level, one far above Daisy’s.

The now-mounted group milled about in the meadow, waiting for the sign to begin riding. Daisy felt particularly mousy in her borrowed riding habit. How was it possible that Bella even had a riding habit of drab brown when she favored lighter, bolder colors? True, the habit was a rich velvet, delightfully warm on such a raw day. But Daisy glanced at Bella’s new habit in a cardinal red wool, which brought out the pink in her cheeks and made her skin glow, and knew that everyone would look at Bella today, not Daisy at all.

When two figures emerged from the stable area, Daisy straightened up in her saddle. Tristan looked as if he’d been born to ride. He wore a riding outfit crisp with newness—this was probably the first time it had been worn. Daisy remembered the more casual clothes he’d been wearing when he rode up to her in the woods that day. He looked so different now, so aloof and aristocratic. Her heart shrank a little even as she admired his magnificent appearance. As if Daisy needed a reminder that Tristan was far above her…

Next to Tristan, she was surprised to see Jackson Kemble. He appeared to be much healthier and stronger than the last time she’d spoken with him. But horseback riding? In the cold? She frowned, watching the two men converse.

“What are you pouting about, Daisy?” her stepmother asked, noticing her expression.

“I’m worried that Mr. Kemble is being too optimistic in attempting to join the group today. His health seemed so fragile.”

The baroness looked over at the approaching pair, a calculating gleam in her eyes. She said softly, “That is a very wise observation, Daisy.”

Daisy was surprised at this praise, but even more surprised when Lady Rutherford turned to her daughter and said, “Bella, you should stay close to Mr. Kemble today.”

Bella blinked in confusion. “You wish me to ride with Mr. Kemble? Not the duke?”

“Use your head, Bella,” Lady Rutherford said. “This Mr. Kemble is the duke’s closest friend. If you earn his good opinion, it will no doubt further your appeal in the duke’s eyes. And you will appear to be most concerned for his health, which will reflect favorably on you as well. For a successful marriage, all advantages must be considered. Now, he’s about to look over. When he does, smile and nod. Just a little.”

“Yes, Mama.” Bella cast her gaze under her lashes to watch the approach of the men without seeming too bold. Then, just as Jackson Kemble lifted his hand to the brim of his hat, Bella gave him a sweet smile.

“Good morning, Lady Rutherford, Miss Bella. And Miss Daisy.” He still looked very pale in Daisy’s estimation. “It should be excellent weather for a ride.”

“Indeed, Mr. Kemble,” Bella responded. “Do you ride often?”

“Not so much lately,” he admitted with a laugh. “Perhaps I ought to have a minder.”

“I should be glad to take on the task, Mr. Kemble,” Bella said demurely.

He looked nonplussed for a moment, but then said, “That would be very kind of you, my lady.”

Behind Lady Rutherford’s austere expression, Daisy could recognize a certain giddiness. She was relentlessly executing her plan to make Bella a duchess within a year.

And all Daisy could do was watch.

Tristan said, “The grooms have laid out a path for us. I’m still not familiar enough with the estate to pick out my own route.”

“Ah, then I shall ride beside you,” Lady Rutherford said, pouncing on this opportunity. “For I am well acquainted with the whole area. It would be my pleasure to point out the other houses and estates you’ll want to know.”

Tristan nodded in agreement, his eyes flickering only briefly to Daisy. She’d never felt more invisible.

The signal came to begin the ride, and the whole party started off, stretching naturally into a longer train as various riders found the pace that suited them. At the head of the group, of course, the duke himself rode, joined by the baroness.

Daisy, no longer a very confident rider considering it had been years since she’d ridden for pleasure, allowed her own mount to choose its speed, which was slower than most of the others. Just as well, Daisy thought. This is where I am supposed to be. Trailing along behind, only able to watch while others do what they wish.

* * * *

About a half hour into the ride, Tristan was so tired of Lady Rutherford’s chatter. The woman passed judgment on literally every topic that came up, and Tristan wondered how anyone could even have that many opinions on such trivial matters. When pointing out the distant sight of the home owned by Lady Weatherby (who rode somewhere behind them), Lady Rutherford added that the place was cramped and depressingly dark inside. When gesturing to Lord Dallmire in the course of another conversation, Lady Rutherford noted that he looked very fat. Tristan wondered what the lady said about his own appearance when he was not present—surely his scarred face was a matter of disappointment to her.

He tried to steer the conversation to a safer place, reminding the baroness that he’d still very like to arrange a meeting with the estate manager of the Grange. The baroness looked almost offended or alarmed, and then hastily promised to sort it out soon. “After all, no one wants to think about such mundane things if they don’t have to. Certainly, I don’t worry about it. Oh, look at that ramshackle building over there. It ought to be burned down.”

Seemingly, nothing and no one could please her…other than her daughter, Bella. Lady Rutherford praised her to the skies, telling Tristan that she was a perfect angel, schooled in every little thing a lady would need to know to run a great house, even one so grand as Lyondale.

It was all very obvious, and Tristan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. In fact, Lady Rutherford’s behavior actively repelled him. Bella might be the most beautiful woman in England for all he knew. But she’d be a lot more beautiful without a mother like Lady Rutherford hovering nearby.

At last, he couldn’t take it anymore. He suddenly wedged one heel into the flank of his horse, causing a startled whinny.

“Oh, no,” Tristan said. “He might have injured a hoof.” Immediately, Tristan dismounted and pulled the horse to the side of the path. “You go on, my lady,” he ordered firmly. “I’ll catch up as soon as I can. I mustn’t deny you the pleasure of the ride.”

Without a clear reason to stay, Lady Rutherford was forced to continue on with the group. Tristan knelt by Stormer’s front leg, picking up the hoof and examining it closely. The horse was perfectly fine, and clearly confused by Tristan’s behavior.

“Sorry, boy,” he whispered. “It’s a necessary deception.” A chunk of apple went a long way to mending Stormer’s mood, and the horse crunched on it happily while Tristan pretended to be worried about his leg.

Just then a young groom rode up, concern on his face. “Your grace! Is the horse lame?”

Tristan motioned him over. He was one of the brighter boys who worked in the stables, and Tristan decided he could be trusted with a small covert operation.

“Listen here, Timothy. It is Timothy, yes? Good. I want you to ride back and fetch a farrier’s rasp. Bring it back here.”

“Sir? Will that help?”

“No, but it won’t hurt. And it will give me some breathing room. Now go, not too fast… and not a word to anyone.”

“Yes, sir!” The boy wheeled about, his horse trotting back toward the house at a pace that looked more frantic than it was.

Tristan waved other riders by, telling them that a groom was already handling the issue. He actually enjoyed the moment of quiet in the woods.

Then Daisy rode up. “I do hope Stormer isn’t hurt!” she said, looking over the horse for damage.

“He’s fine. I simply needed an excuse to not ride at the head of the group.”

Daisy understood his unspoken point instantly, and covered her mouth to hide a smile. She looked behind her, but there was no one. “I will wait with you, if you don’t mind. I was last in the group, and alone anyway.”

“That’s a shame,” he said, helping her dismount. The pleasure of holding her waist as he lowered her to the ground made his hands linger there, feeling the soft velvet of her jacket. “You’re denying others your company.”

“They do not care for my company,” she retorted. “They all wish to be near you. Or plot and plan ways to make you notice them.”

“Your stepmother certainly prevented all others from an opportunity,” he said, again relieved that he’d evaded her.

“But I seem to have stumbled into one,” Daisy said with an impish smile.

“I’m glad.” He reached out and pulled her closer, using the bulk of the horses to hide them from prying eyes. “It’s near impossible to get a chance to see you without a dozen others lurking around.”

Daisy looked shy as she said, “I’ve spent more time alone with you than I have with any other man.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to hunt someone down.”

“Tristan!” she objected, alarmed.

“What? I’m jealous of the very idea.”

“There’s absolutely no reason to be. No one is courting me.”

“What is wrong with the men in this county?” Tristan muttered. It had been days since he’d escorted her home in the carriage, and learned exactly how good it felt to kiss her, and how much he wanted to be with her for a much longer time.

Now, he took the opportunity to lean down for a kiss, hoping to rekindle the feelings he remembered so well from the carriage ride.

Daisy’s lips were just as soft as before, and after a little sound of surprise, she opened her mouth and let him deepen the kiss.

Oh, this was not going to be enough. Tristan drew out the kiss as long as he could, feeling very annoyed that breathing was so essential to life. He pulled back to get his breath.

Her eyes opened, and she regarded him in a dazed, delighted way. “Why did you do that?” she asked, blinking slowly, as if coming out of a dream.

Because you’re irresistible, he wanted to say. But the words stuck in his throat, because he heard something else…distant hoofbeats.

“Damn it,” he swore under his breath. He stepped back and looked Daisy over. She was wearing velvet, and the imprints of his hands were all over the fabric. Like evidence of a crime.

He ran his hands over her, smoothing away the marks into long streaks.

Daisy looked down and gasped, realizing the problem. She pushed his hands away and completed the job herself, quickly erasing all his touches. Then she smoothed her hair and straightened her jacket, obviously worried. “Do I look all right?” she whispered.

“Beautiful,” he replied instantly.

“I mean…”

“No one would guess,” he corrected, then looked to where the sound of hooves was coming from. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was only Jack.

But no, it was not only Jack. Bella Merriot rode beside him. If she suspected that Tristan was just ravishing her stepsister, it was likely that the news would make it to the baroness in less than an hour. And Tristan did not want that.

Putting on his blandest expression, he hailed Jack.

His friend came to a halt nearby, clever eyes taking in the scene and silently questioning Tristan about his intentions. But Tristan gave nothing away and seized on a more obvious question.

“How is the ride for you?” he asked. “I see you’re not exactly pressing your mount.”

“I’m well,” Jack said, though Tris could see a pallor in his skin that hadn’t been there this morning. “Miss Bella has been most tolerant of my slowness.”

“Nonsense. I don’t like to race anyway,” Bella said. She was the picture of feminine propriety, maintaining a small distance from Jack’s horse, but still obviously paying close attention to him. “It has been a very pleasant outing, but perhaps it would be best for us to return to the house.”

Bella gave Tristan a look, and made a tiny nod toward Jack. So she was worried about him too. Tris decided this was a perfect opportunity to get out of the mess he’d put himself in with Daisy, nearly allowing them to be discovered in a compromising position. Idiot.

Tris helped Daisy onto her own horse (keeping his hands very firmly where they should be and not allowing his touch to linger this time). Then he remounted Stormer.

Jack said, gesturing to the horse, “I thought…”

“He’s perfectly fine,” Tris said quickly, loud enough for all of them to hear. “I had first thought he’d hurt his front hoof, or got a stone under the shoe. But he’s fine. Let’s all ride together back to the house. Mr. Kemble has certainly exceeded the doctor’s orders for fresh air today.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. The four of them rode slowly back toward the great house, the conversation innocuous. After Bella made a chance remark about Daisy doing so well at managing the harvest this year, Tristan suddenly realized something he should have picked up on before.

“You manage the estate,” he said. “During the first part of the ride, I asked the baroness to set up a meeting with the Grange’s man, and she nearly cantered off to avoid the topic. That’s because the manager is you.”

“Don’t tell anyone, please,” Daisy pleaded. “Lady Rutherford would be mortified. The fact is that the last one left a few years ago and she’s never replaced him. I know what to do anyway, so it seemed unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary? Daisy, it shouldn’t be your job to sort through ledgers of crops and livestock. You’re a lady.”

Daisy gave a little, sad smile. “Am I?”

“To me, yes.” Tristan grinned, his mood brightening. “Oh, this is actually perfect. I’ve got so many questions, for it turns out Lyondale’s manager was completely incompetent. I sacked him.”

“Personally? What an honor for him.”

Tristan laughed at the unexpected remark, but then proceeded to ask a half dozen questions about Daisy’s methods and her plans for Rutherford, and how he could do the same for Lyondale. Before he realized it, they were practically to the stables. He hadn’t even noticed the slow passage back, because Daisy had somehow made winter wheat an intriguing topic.

“Are you two chattering about farming?” Bella asked then, with a musical laugh.

Tristan noticed how Bella looked between him and Daisy, probably considering her suspicions about a man and woman found alone in the woods. She rode closer to Daisy and reached out, smoothing the arm of Daisy’s jacket.

“That’s the problem with velvet,” he overheard her say to Daisy. “It does show every little mark.”

Bella’s tone was mild, but Tris saw the alarm in Daisy’s eyes.

Luckily, just at that moment, the young stableboy Tris had sent on the errand earlier came riding up, distracting Bella.

“Sir!” he called out. “You’re riding Stormer?”

“A false alarm,” Tristan announced. “I feared he had injured himself, but he soon recovered.”

By the time the quartet reached the house, an array of servants stood prepared to retrieve the horses (Stormer was fussed over, which pleased Tristan). Footmen were ready to help Jack walk back inside. He protested all the while that he was perfectly fine, despite labored breathing.

Daisy and Bella both looked after him worriedly. Daisy said, “Riding is too vigorous an activity for someone in his state of health.”

“I agree,” Bella said. “A walk around the pond would be much better for him.”

“Excellent idea, my lady,” Tristan said, walking up to them. “Perhaps you would both join us on an afternoon soon to do just that. When Mr. Kemble is feeling up for it, that is.”

He was thinking that such an occasion would be another opportunity to see Daisy, but it was Bella who replied in a pleased tone, “We would be delighted, your grace.”

“I’ll arrange it,” he promised, casting a look at Daisy—who looked less delighted than her stepsister. Tristan wondered why, but then decided that she was still concerned that Bella might have realized what Tris and Daisy had been doing during their brief time alone.

No matter. It was a kiss, nothing more. Daisy would not suffer for it. He hoped.