Loved by a Duke (The Heart of a Duke #4)(6)



He shifted in his seat, not at all comfortable discussing topics of his interest in another woman with Daisy. She was…was…well, Daisy. “I thought you didn’t read the gossip columns?” he asked in attempt to steer the conversation away from matters of the heart.

“Ah, I said you didn’t read the scandal sheets.” She held up a finger and waved it about. “You’re a duke, after all. I’m merely an unwed wallflower for which such pursuits are perfectly acceptable.”

“You’re n—”

“Yes, I am,” she said simply, as though no more concerned with her marital state than she was with her rapidly cooling tea. “I’m very much a wallflower and quite content.” She took a sip.

“Must you do that?” he groused, even as it was not at all dukelike to do something as common as grouse. She’d always had an uncanny ability to finish his thoughts, as he had hers. Still, it was quite unnerving when that skill was turned upon a person.

“Yes, there simply is no helping it. I’m afraid I’ll have Season after Season until—”

“I referred to finishing my sentences.”

Daisy set her teacup on the table in front of them and leaned forward, her palms pressed to her knees. “I know, Auric,” she whispered as though imparting a great secret. “I was merely teasing. Though, I expect you’re unaccustomed to people going about teasing you.”

He took another sip and thought once more about the only lady who’d managed to capture his attention. The Lady Anne Adamson, now Countess of Stanhope. There had been nothing fawning about the lady, which had been some of the appeal to the now wedded woman.

Daisy patted his hand. “You are better served in her belonging to the earl. You’d not wed a woman who is in love with another.”

A dull flush heated his neck at the intimate direction she’d steered their discourse once more. Words of love and affection and hearts had no place between him and Daisy. Theirs was a comfortable friendship borne of their families’ connection and strengthened by a loss they shared. A friendship that would likely not be if she learned the role he’d played in her brother’s death. She’d certainly not be smiling and teasing him as she now did. Pain knifed at his chest. With a forcible effort, he thrust back his dark, regretful thoughts. “I’ve quite accepted Lady Anne’s decision.” There, that was a vague enough response. He felt inclined to add, “Nor was my heart fully engaged.”

Daisy let out a beleaguered sigh. “If that was the romance you reserved for the lady, it is no wonder she chose another.”

Instead of rising to her baiting, he asked, “Are you a romantic now, Daisy Meadows? Dreaming of love matches?”

“What should I dream of?” She sent a dark eyebrow sweeping upward. “A cold, emotionless union to a gentleman who’d wed me for my dowry?”

Auric stilled and looked at the girl, Daisy, and conceded, in this moment with talks of hearts and love matches and unions, that she was no longer a girl, rather a woman. “You’ve always been something of a romantic.” A woman who, if one sorted through her entrance, and disappearance, and then reemergence into Society, was on her third Season, no less. She professed herself to be a wallflower. He eyed her a moment. He took in the dark, curled hair piled atop her head, the shock of freckles on her cheeks and nose, her too full mouth. Uniquely different than the Incomparables, she’d never be considered a great beauty by Society’s rigid standards, and yet certainly interesting enough to make a match with a proper gentleman. “You desire love then, do you?” he asked, hating that it was not Lionel here having this discussion with her—for so very many reasons.

Auric expected her to debate the charge. Instead, she again sighed and picked up her embroidery frame. “You always were entirely too practical.” She paused. “And clever. You are indeed, correct. I’m a romantic.” Daisy looked down a long moment at her embroidery frame and then turned the ambiguous needlepoint toward him. “You really cannot tell what it is?”

“No idea,” he said succinctly. On the heel of that was a sudden, unexpected, and unwelcome possibility. “Has some gentleman captured your affections?” Whoever the blighter was, he was unworthy of her.

She paused, for the span of a heartbeat. “Don’t be silly.”

His shoulders sagged with relief. He didn’t care to think of Daisy setting her affections on some gentleman because it would require Auric to take a role in determining that man’s suitability as her match and he did not welcome that responsibility. Not yet. Oh, as she’d pointed out, with her out a second time, it was likely she’d need to make a match soon. However, it was not a prospect he relished. There was too much responsibility that went with seeing to her future. Auric finished his tea and set aside his cup. He tugged out his watch fob and consulted the timepiece attached.

“You have business?” she asked with a dryness to her tone that hinted at her having identified his eagerness to take his leave.

“Indeed,” he murmured as he stood. “Will you give my regards to your mother and send her my apologies for not visiting in—?”

“Three weeks?” Daisy rose in a flurry of sea foam skirts, that silly embroidery in her hands. “I shall.” With her chocolate brown gaze, she searched his face. For a moment she opened her mouth, as though she wished to say more but then closed it.

Christi Caldwell's Books