Her Reformed Rake (Wicked Husbands #3)(13)

That her father wanted to conduct matters with the duke, however, distressed her even more. For he hadn’t sent an outright acceptance of an impending marriage. A fist of dread closed on Daisy’s heart.

She refused to believe that she could be so close to freedom, only to be thwarted.

No.

Two sets of eyes swung to her.

Had she said that aloud? Apparently so. She flushed. “Aunt Caroline, can you not act in Father’s stead?”

Her aunt’s eyebrows nearly touched her hairline. “You cannot be serious, young lady. We find ourselves in an untenable situation brought about by your own thoughtless recklessness and wicked behavior. I would not presume to speak on your father’s behalf. I can imagine he has a great deal to say to you and His Grace both, and I cannot think any of it will be good.”

Well. It seemed Aunt Caroline was decidedly not in her corner. She supposed she ought not to be surprised, for her aunt had been ever touting the illustrious match her father planned for her with Lord Breckly. It wasn’t as if they had ever shared anything more than each other’s company. Certainly never a warm embrace.

Aunt Caroline had no children of her own, and there was nothing maternal about her. Daisy felt the familiar, old pang of loss whenever she thought of her own mother, who’d been gone for so long she was nothing more than a lock of hair pressed behind glass on a mourning pin and a shadowy remembrance.

The duke cleared his throat, his expression growing pained. “Mrs. Stanley, I’m afraid the fault of this ‘untenable situation,’ as you’ve called it, must be laid upon no one but me. I’ve been smitten by your niece ever since I first saw her, and last night I allowed my base nature to prevail. The only way to rectify the insult I’ve paid Miss Vanreid is by offering marriage, which I fully intend to do upon Mr. Vanreid’s arrival.”

Aunt Caroline wasn’t so easily swayed. In the absence of wine, she was an absolute stickler. She directed an expression of extreme displeasure in the duke’s direction. “I’m sure you were dazzled by Daisy’s beauty. Everyone is. However, there is the matter of her impending betrothal to Lord Breckly to be considered now. Mr. Vanreid remains set on his lordship.”

The duke smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sure you will agree that, given yesterday’s turn of events, a match between Lord Breckly and Miss Vanreid is no longer possible.”

He didn’t appear any happier than Aunt Caroline to be engaged in this early morning audience. Perhaps he regretted his actions and wished he could extricate himself by more impermanent means than marriage.

But it was too late. The dye had been cast. And Daisy had no intention of becoming Lady Breckly. Mr. Vanreid remains set on his lordship. However, surely her father would agree that a duke, even one who had compromised her, was a far better catch than a mere viscount. Surely in this one instance, if none other in her life, her father would see reason.

For an instant, the memory of the last time she’d been set on marrying a man returned to her. She shook it from her mind, tucking it back into the past where it belonged. The bruises on her body had long ago faded. The bruise on her heart had taken far longer to disappear.

“I cannot presume to know what my brother will agree to, Your Grace,” Aunt Caroline said then, further churning up Daisy’s fears. “He wishes the best for my niece.”

That was a blatant falsehood. Her father wished what was best for himself in all things. Her aunt’s words suggested what Daisy began to suspect—that her father would not necessarily abandon his plan of marrying her to Breckly. What was it that the man had over her father? Daisy wished she knew. Wished she understood the tangled web in which she’d found herself. With each day, she grew more and more convinced that her father was involved in something nefarious.

And that Padraig was as well.

She didn’t know how the pieces of the puzzle slid together, but all she did know was that she didn’t want to be a part of any of it. The mere thought of her father’s arrival was enough to make her queasy. She’d been free of his presence, living a charmed life in London, for two months. His return threatened to change everything.

The duke’s gaze was once again fastened upon her, and she couldn’t help but think he assessed her, taking in far more of her than she would have preferred. Whatever he saw in her expression, it made him turn back to Aunt Caroline with a stern frown.

“Mrs. Stanley.” His accent was perfectly modulated, crisp. “I feel quite certain that Mr. Vanreid will find my pedigree faultless. Until he arrives and we can be assured of his blessing, however, I would like your permission to formally court Miss Vanreid, beginning with a turn about the gardens. Are you amenable to that?”

Aunt Caroline appeared very much the opposite of amenable, but she was faced with a prickly conundrum: insult a duke or adhere to her misplaced loyalty to her brother. Her lips compressed into a firm line. “Very well,” she relented. “But you may not go out of sight of the window, Your Grace. I’ll be watching.”

A smile quirked the corner of his sensual lips, his first true sign of levity thus far. “Naturally, madam. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”





Sebastian guided Miss Vanreid into the crisp morning air, all too aware of the glare trained on his back by the aunt. She was a deal more formidable when not befuddled by drink, that much was certain. Just as it was also certain that the woman clutching his arm in a manacle-like grip feared her father.