Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers #4)(37)

Despite his overbearing manner there was an elusive tenderness in his gaze that made Daisy want to crawl inside his coat and huddle against his heartbeat. “Are you coming back too,” she asked, “or will you stay with Lord Westcliff?”

“I’m going to follow right behind you.” Replacing the handkerchief in his pocket, Swift bent and picked her up easily. “Hold onto me.”

Daisy put her arms around his neck, her wrist tingling where it pressed against the hot skin of his nape and the cool silky locks of his hair. He carried her as if she weighed nothing, his chest rock-solid, his breath soft and even against her cheek. His skin carried the scent of sun and outdoors. She could barely restrain herself from nuzzling into his neck.

Bemused by the force of her attraction to him, Daisy remained silent as Swift handed her up to Lord Llandrindon, who was seated on a large bay. The viscount settled her in front of him, where the edge of the saddle dug into her thigh.

Llandrindon was a handsome man, elegant and dark-haired and fine-featured. But the feel of Llandrindon’s arms around her, his lean chest, his scent…somehow it wasn’t right. The clasp of his hand at the side of her waist was foreign and intrusive.

Daisy could have wept with frustration as she wondered why she couldn’t want him instead of the man who was wrong for her.

“What happened?” Lillian asked as Daisy walked into the Marsden parlor. She was reclining on the settee with a periodical. “You look as if you’ve been run over by a carriage.”

“I had an encounter with an ill-mannered pig, actually.”

Lillian smiled and set aside the periodical. “Who would that be?”

“I wasn’t speaking in metaphor. It really was a pig.” Sitting in a nearby chair, Daisy told her about the misadventure, casting it in a humorous light.

“Are you really all right?” Lillian asked in concern.

“Perfectly,” Daisy assured her. “And Hubert was fine as well. He arrived at the stables at the same time that Lord Llandrindon and I did.”

“That was lucky.”

“Yes, it was clever of Hubert to find his way home—”

“No, not the deuced pony. I’m talking about riding home with Lord Llandrindon. Not that I’m encouraging you to set your cap for him, but on the other hand—”

“He wasn’t the one I wanted to ride back with.” Daisy stared down at the dirt-stained fabric of her skirts and concentrated on plucking a horse hair from the fine muslin weave.

“One can’t blame you for that,” Lillian said. “Llandrindon is nice but rather innocuous. I’m sure you would have preferred to ride back with Mr. Mardling.”

“No,” Daisy said. “I was very glad not to have come back with him. The one I really wanted to ride home with was—”

“No.” Lillian covered her ears. “Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it!”

Daisy stared at her gravely. “Do you really mean that?”

Lillian grimaced. “Bloody hell,” she muttered. “Damn and blast. Son of a—”

“When the baby is born,” Daisy said with a faint smile, “you’ll really have to stop using such foul language.”

“Then I will indulge myself to the fullest until he gets here.”

“Are you certain it’s a he?”

“It had better be, since Westcliff needs an heir and I’m never going through this again.” Lillian scrubbed the heels of her hands over her weary eyes. “Since the only choice left was Matthew Swift,” she said grumpily, “I assume he was the one you wanted to ride back with.”

“Yes. Because…I’m attracted to him.” It was a relief to say it out loud. Daisy’s throat, which had felt pinched and tight, finally dilated to allow her a long, slow breath.

“In a physical sense, you mean?”

“In other ways as well.”

Lillian rested her cheek on her hand, which was balled into a sharp-knuckled fist. “Is it because Father wants the match?” she asked. “Are you hoping somehow to win his approval?”

“Oh, no. If anything, Father’s approval is a mark against Mr. Swift. I don’t give a fig about pleasing him—I know very well that’s impossible.”

“Then I don’t understand why you would want a man who is so obviously wrong for you. You’re not some madcap, Daisy. Impulsive, yes. Romantic, of a certainty. But you’re also practical and intelligent enough to understand the consequences of being involved with him. I think the problem is that you’re desperate. You’re the last one of us to be unmarried, and then Father delivered this idiotic ultimatum, and—”

“I’m not desperate!”

“If you’re considering marrying Matthew Swift, I’d say that’s a mark of extreme desperation.”

Daisy had never been accused of having a temper—that distinction had always gone to Lillian. But indignation filled her chest like the blast from a steam kettle, and she had to fight to keep from exploding.

Glancing at the curve of her sister’s stomach helped her to calm down. Lillian was dealing with many new discomforts and uncertainties. Now Daisy was adding to the problem.

“I said nothing about wanting to marry him,” Daisy replied. “I merely want to find out more about him. About what kind of man he is. I don’t see the harm in that.”