Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers #4)(48)

Evie yanked her back behind the hedge. “No,” she whispered sharply. “Don’t test our luck, Daisy. It was a miracle they didn’t realize we were here.”

“But I wanted to hear the rest of it!”

“So did I.” They stared at each other with round eyes. “Daisy…” Evie said in wonder, “…I think Matthew Swift is in love with you.”

CHAPTER 10

Daisy wasn’t certain why the notion that Matthew Swift could be in love with her should set her entire world upside-down. But it did.

“If he is,” she asked Evie unsteadily, “then why is he so determined to pawn me off on Lord Llandrindon? It would be so easy for him to fall in with my father’s plans. And he would be richly rewarded. If on top of that he actually cares for me in the bargain, what could be holding him back?”

“Maybe he wants to find out if you love him in return?”

“No, Mr. Swift’s mind doesn’t work that way, any more than my father’s does. They’re men of business. Predators. If Mr. Swift wanted me, he wouldn’t stop to ask for my permission any more than a lion would stop and politely ask an antelope if he would mind being eaten for lunch.”

“I think the two of you should have a forthright conversation,” Evie declared.

“Oh, Mr. Swift would only evade and prevaricate, exactly as he has done so far. Unless…”

“Unless?”

“…I could find some way to make him let his guard down. And force him to be honest about whether he feels anything for me or not.”

“How will you do that?”

“I don’t know. Hang it, Evie, you know a hundred times more about men than I do. You’re married to one. You’re surrounded by them at the club. In your informed opinion, what is the quickest way to drive a man to the limits of his sanity and make him admit something he doesn’t want to?”

Seeming pleased by the image of herself as a worldly woman, Evie contemplated the question. “Make him jealous, I suppose. I’ve seen civilized men fight like dogs in the alley behind the club over the f-favors of a particular lady.”

“Hmm. I wonder if Mr. Swift could be provoked to jealousy.”

“I should think so,” Evie said. “He’s a man, after all.”

In the afternoon Daisy cornered Lord Llandrindon as he went into the library to replace a book on one of the lower gallery shelves.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” Daisy said brightly, pretending not to notice the glaze of apprehension in his eyes. She smothered a grin, thinking that after Matthew Swift’s campaign on her behalf, poor Llandrindon probably felt like a fox run to ground.

Recovering quickly, Llandrindon summoned a pleasant smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Bowman. May I ask after your sister and the baby?”

“Both are quite well, thank you.” Daisy drew closer and inspected the book in his hands. “History Of Military Cartography. Well. That sounds quite, er…intriguing.”

“Oh, it is,” Llandrindon assured her. “And wonderfully instructive. Though I fear something was lost in the translation. One must read it in the original German to appreciate the full significance of the work.”

“Do you ever read novels, my lord?”

He looked sincerely appalled by the question. “Oh, I never read novels. I was taught from childhood that one should only read books that instruct the mind or improve the character.”

Daisy was annoyed by his superior tone. “What a pity,” she said beneath her breath.

“Hmm?”

“That’s pretty,” she amended quickly, pretending to examine the volume’s engraved leather binding. She gave him what she hoped was a poised smile. “Are you an avid reader, my lord?”

“I try never to be avid about anything. ‘Moderation in all things’ is one of my most valued mottoes.”

“I don’t have any mottoes. If I did I would forever be contradicting them.”

Llandrindon chuckled. “Are you admitting to a mercurial nature?”

“I prefer to think of it as being open-minded,” Daisy said. “I can see wisdom in a great variety of beliefs.”

“Ah.”

Daisy could practically read his thoughts, that her so-called openmindedness cast her in a less-than-favorable light. “I should like to hear more of your mottoes, my lord. Perhaps during a stroll through the gardens?”

“I…er…” It was unpardonably bold for a girl to invite a gentleman on a walk instead of the other way around. However, Llandrindon’s gentlemanly nature would not allow him to refuse. “Of course, Miss Bowman. Perhaps tomorrow—”

“Now would be fine,” she said brightly.

“Now,” came his weak reply. “Yes. Lovely.”

Taking his arm before he had a chance to offer it, Daisy tugged him toward the doorway. “Let’s go.”

Having no choice but to allow the militantly cheerful young woman to drag him this way and that, Llandrindon soon found himself proceeding down one of the great stone staircases that led from the back terrace to the grounds below. “My lord,” Daisy said, “I have something to confess. I am hatching a little plot and I was hoping to enlist your help.”

“A little plot,” he repeated skittishly. “My help. Quite. That is, er—”