Loved by a Duke (The Heart of a Duke #4)(16)

“Daisy!” Her mother glared at her with far more life than she’d shown in weeks.

Daisy tipped her chin at a mutinous angle. Nor did she want another of Auric’s polite country reels. She loved performing the steps of any and every dance but she’d had enough of those dratted polite sets with him.

With the same boldness he’d evinced as a young lad, Auric made another attempt for her wrist. “I’m marking your card.”

Daisy held the offending object close to her breast. She wanted him, but not like this. Not partnering her at the bequest of her mother, a pitying favor from a magnanimous duke. His gaze followed that damning card and lingered. Some hot emotion flared in his eyes. For one slight moment she imagined he noted her bosom, which was first silly because Auric noticed nothing of her and second, humiliating to imagine he’d stare at her there. Humiliating mounds of flesh. That is what they were. She really wished she had a trim waist and small bosom. Not the too-rounded figure that would never fit with the ton’s dictates for a beauty.

In the end, the marchioness settled the dispute between them much the way she had when they’d been squabbling children. Invariably, Auric had always been in the right. “Don’t be ridiculous, Daisy,” her mother snapped as she took Daisy’s wrist and extended it toward Auric.

Daisy’s pulse jumped wildly as his fingers brushed the sensitive skin of her wrist. A touch shouldn’t elicit these shivery thrills of awareness, the kind that…She bit the inside of her cheek as Auric scanned the card.

The empty card. As in devoid of partners. As in utterly humiliating. As in she wanted the ballroom floor to swallow both her and her miserable card up, whole. Or in the very least that program upon her wrist.

Giving no indication that he’d noticed her remarkable lack of partners, he penciled his name for a set, as he sometimes did and then sketched a respectful bow—as he always did. “If you’ll excuse me. Lady Roxbury, a pleasure as unusual. Lady Daisy,” he murmured, his low baritone washed over her like warmed satin.

As he wandered off, she fiddled with the card dangling from her wrist.

“How could you be so rude to Auric, Daisy?” her mother chided. “He is a dear friend of this family.”

He had been a dear friend. Now he was more a polite gentleman who paid frequent visits to her and her always-sad mother.

Then, with an uncharacteristic energy in her step, her mother turned away and returned to the spot she’d previously occupied at the side of the ballroom. What the other woman failed to realize was that Auric had merely been forced into partnering her. Nothing more than her mother’s needling and his dratted sense of obligation had driven his offer.

Absently, Daisy glanced down at her card—and her heart paused. A waltz. She whipped her gaze up and passed it through the crowded room, and then located him in conversation with another golden-haired, marriage-minded miss and the lady’s mama. She looked past the young woman. If Auric had wanted to avoid contact with her, he’d surely have claimed an available quadrille or country reel. But he hadn’t. He’d claimed her waltz. A waltz, when he never before dared partner her in that most intimate, still slightly scandalous of the sets.

A small smile played about her lips as she sought out her previous seat. If he’d claimed her waltz without even the benefit of the heart pendant, the Duke of Crawford stood little chance when she had that bauble clasped about her neck. Enlivened, Daisy sat and tapped her feet to the orchestra’s lively country reel. As much as she detested the crowds of London and the mindless amusements of balls and soirees, she really did quite enjoy dancing.

It really was quite a shame she didn’t have more opportunities to practice the intricate steps of the quadrille or the forbidden movements or the waltz. Why, she’d settle for even the out of mode minuet. And, she wouldn’t even be particular with her dance partner. She frowned and again located Auric amidst the sea of dancers. That is, assuming the gentleman hadn’t been forced into said set by Daisy’s adamant mama.

Her frown deepened. Auric moved with graceful precision through the motions of the dance. His partner was none other than Lady Leticia, golden-haired and black-hearted and utterly vile—all the necessary criteria for a lofty duchess. Daisy curled her fingers around the edge of her seat. He deserved more than an empty, emotionless entanglement.

What if it is not emotionless? What if he carries the same aching desire for Lady Leticia that I carry for—?

“Daisy Meadows, the girl of the flowers.”

A small shriek escaped her, earning her the curious stares of those around her. She flushed and, with a hand at her fast-beating heart, surged to her feet. An unwitting smile turned her lips. “Marcus,” she greeted warmly. Lord Wessex and Auric had both been fast and loyal friends to her brother and would therefore always hold a special place in her broken heart. She ignored the outraged gasp from lone wallflower seated just a handful of seats down.

Daisy and Marcus and Auric, they three shared a bond that defied societal norms and matters of propriety. Their relationship had been forever cemented by the unfortunate bond they shared in the great loss of their friend, her brother.

Marcus, the Viscount Wessex bowed over her hand. “Hullo, Daisy.” Where Auric had been something of a fixture through the years at her home, the viscount had made himself scarce. Then, according to the papers, Marcus had long been the unrepentant rogue, living for his own pleasures, and certainly without time for the former girl he’d found underfoot. “Good evening, my lord.”