Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers #4)(46)

Swift didn’t move or speak, just waited with unyielding patience until Daisy opened her fingers and let the button drop into his palm. He pocketed the object like a possessive magpie and released her.

Bewildered, Daisy hurried toward her sister’s room. As she heard the sound of a baby crying, her breath stopped with anxious joy. It was only a few yards to her sister’s door, and yet it seemed to be miles.

Annabelle met her at the door, looking strained and weary but wearing a brilliant smile. And there was a tiny bundle of linen and clean toweling in her arms. Daisy put her fingers over her mouth and shook her head slightly, laughing even as her eyes prickled with tears. “Oh my,” she said, staring at the red-faced baby, the bright dark eyes, the wealth of black hair.

“Say hello to your niece,” Annabelle said, gently handing the infant to her.

Daisy took the baby carefully, astonished by how light she was. “My sister—”

“Lillian’s fine,” Annabelle replied at once. “She did splendidly.”

Cooing to the baby, Daisy entered the room. Lillian was resting against a stack of pillows, her eyes closed. She looked very small in the large bed, her hair braided in two plaits like a young girl’s. Westcliff was at her side, looking like he had just fought Waterloo singlehandedly.

The veterinarian was at the washstand, soaping his hands. He threw Daisy a friendly smile, and she grinned back at him. “Congratulations, Mr. Merritt,” she said. “It seems you’ve added a new species to your repertoire.”

Lillian stirred at the sound of her voice. “Daisy?”

Daisy approached with the baby in her arms. “Oh, Lillian, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her sister grinned sleepily. “I think so too. Would you—” she broke off to yawn. “Show her to Mother and Father?”

“Yes, of course. What is her name?”

“Merritt.”

“You’re naming her after the veterinarian?”

“He proved to be quite helpful,” Lillian replied. “And Westcliff said I could.”

The earl tucked the bedclothes more snugly around his wife’s body and kissed her forehead.

“Still no heir,” Lillian whispered to him, her grin lingering. “I suppose we’ll have to have another one.”

“No, we won’t,” Westcliff replied hoarsely. “I’m never going through this again.”

Amused, Daisy glanced down at little Merritt, who was falling asleep in her arms. “I’ll show her to the others,” she said softly.

Stepping into the hallway, she was surprised to find it was empty.

Matthew Swift was gone.

When Daisy woke up the next morning, she learned to her relief that Mr. Hunt and Lord St. Vincent had returned safely to StonyCrossPark. St. Vincent had found the south road to be impassable, but Mr. Hunt had had more luck. He had found a doctor in a neighboring village, but the man had balked at riding out in a perilous storm. Apparently it had taken a fair amount of bullying from Hunt to convince him to go. Once they had arrived at Stony Cross Manor, the doctor examined Lillian and Merritt and pronounced them both in excellent condition. In his assessment the baby was small but perfectly formed, with a well-developed pair of lungs.

The guests at the manor received the news of the birth with only a few regretful murmurs about the baby’s gender. But seeing Westcliff’s face as he held his newborn daughter, and hearing his whispered promises that he was going to buy ponies and castles and entire kingdoms for her, Daisy knew he could not have been any happier had Merritt been a boy.

As she shared breakfast in the morning room with Evie, Daisy was aware of a most peculiar jumble of emotions. Aside from the joy that her niece had been born and her sister was fine, she felt…nervous. Lightheaded. Eager.

All because of Matthew Swift.

Daisy was grateful that she had not yet seen him today. After the discoveries she had made last night, she was not certain how she would react to him. “Evie,” she entreated privately, “there is something I need to talk to you about. Will you walk in the gardens with me?” Now that the storm was over, weak gray sunlight seeped through the sky.

“Of course. Although it’s rather muddy outside…”

“We’ll stay on the graveled paths. But it must be out there. This is too private to be discussed indoors.”

Evie’s eyes widened, and she drank her tea so fast it must have scalded her tongue.

The garden had been disheveled by the storm, leaves and green buds scattered everywhere, twigs and branches lying across the usually immaculate path. But the air was fragrant with the scents of wet earth and rain-drenched petals. Breathing deeply of the invigorating smell, the two friends strolled along the graveled walkway. They knotted their shawls around their arms and shoulders while the breeze pushed at them with the impatience of a child urging them to quicken their pace.

Daisy had seldom known a relief as great as unburdening herself to Evie. She told her about everything that had transpired between herself and Matthew Swift, including the kiss, finishing with the revelation of the button he carried in his pocket. Evie was a better listener than anyone Daisy knew, perhaps because of her struggles with her stammer.

“I don’t know what to think,” Daisy said miserably. “I don’t know how to feel about any of it. I don’t know why Mr. Swift seems different now than he did before, or why I am so drawn to him. It was so much easier to hate him. But last night when I saw that blasted button…”