Loved by a Duke (The Heart of a Duke #4)(24)

His rheumy eyes went wide and he doffed his hat once again. “Thank ye, so much. Is there anythin’ else Oi might ’elp ye te foind?”

Daisy gave him a smile. “No, thank you.” She dropped the quizzing glass inside her reticule. “This will do perfectly.”

He pocketed the generous payment and dipped a bow.

With a spritely step, Daisy started across the street. Why, every duke eventually required a quizzing glass. Particularly dukes who were approaching their thirtieth year. Perhaps it might serve to remind Auric that he needed to wed. And soon. Wind tugged at her cloak and she ran her palms over the front, smoothing out the fabric. Granted, he’d already seemed to realize that important piece of his ducal responsibility. He’d just not seen her as fitting into his ducal obligations.

She stepped out into the street just as another gust of wind, more fierce and biting, whipped her hood over her eyes. Daisy shoved it back and a scream lodged in her throat as a gentleman riding his horse at a quick gallop cut across her path. She stumbled. Her foot turned on the uneven cobbles and she tumbled backward, crashing hard onto her bottom. Daisy grunted as her palms scraped the rocks and dirt-packed road, shredding her thin gloves. She grimaced at the pain radiating up her back. The wind whipped about, tugging free several more strands of hair and the long curls slapped her cheeks. Sputtering around a mouthful of hair, she pulled out several dampened tresses then tucked them behind her ear, grimacing at the foul stench of her fingers. She stole a glance about and a relieved sigh escaped her at finding her maid across the street, wholly engrossed in her search. Daisy carefully pulled her gloves off and inspected the damage done to her palms. The poor girl would suffer an apoplexy were she to discover her mistress in this moment, as she was sprawled on the ground. Daisy shoved herself up to her feet and dusted off the pebbles and dirt flaking her hands.

She rather hoped this was not fate’s opinion on her search for the Heart of a Duke pendant.

Then it began to pour.



Auric stared out at the rainy London streets from within the confines of his carriage. Following his visit with Daisy yesterday, where she’d pointed out his absence these past weeks, he’d been shamed by his neglect of both the young lady and her mother. So it was, with guilt driving his motives, as it so often did, he found himself on his way to the Marchioness of Roxbury’s townhouse to pay his requisite visit. The familiar front fa?ade of the ladies’ residence drew into focus, and then moments later, his carriage rocked to a slow stop before their townhouse. A liveried footman drew the door open and cool wind filtered into the carriage, ruffling his hair. Smoothing his hands over the front of his cloak, Auric stepped down. The black fabric whipped angrily at his ankles, as thunder rumbled ominously in the distance.

In five long strides he reached the familiar front door. A door he’d entered more scores of times than he could count; as a child at his father’s side, as a young man visiting his closest friend, and as a gentleman seeking absolution for a sin that could never be forgiven. He rapped once.

Almost immediately the door was drawn open. The butler, as familiar as that front door stepped back, admitting him.

“Good afternoon, Frederick.”

“Your Grace,” the ancient servant said, sketching a deep, respectful bow. He cleared his throat, correctly interpreting the reason for Auric’s visit. “The marchioness is indisposed.”

Again, guilt sat like a stone in his belly. The woman frequently took to her chambers during the day. Grief had made her despondent, a mere empty shell of the refined hostess she’d once been. He inclined his head in understanding. “Please tell Lady Daisy I’ve come to call.” Odd, how Daisy, the girl who’d abhorred all social events hosted by her parents, had stepped in as hostess to receive him when her mother was indisposed. But then, they’d all grown up. They’d not been children for a very long time. Regret tugged at him for the simplicity of the life they’d once known, now lost.

“Lady Daisy is not here, Your Grace,” the old servant murmured.

Auric frowned. “Not here?”

“Not here,” the man echoed. A flash of concern filled the man’s rheumy eyes. “She’s gone,” he coughed into his hand, “shopping.”

“Shopping,” he repeated dumbly, knowing he must sound the total lackwit and yet, as long as he’d known Daisy Laurel Meadows, which was, the entire course of her existence, the lady had long detested shopping.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Frederick confirmed with a nod. “Shopping.”

Auric furrowed his brow. The only enjoyment she’d found in it as a girl was when he and Lionel had taken her to the bazaar and purchased a collection of small soldiers for the small girl forced to secretly play with the little figures, after her proper mama had denied her the pleasure.

Frederick cast a glance about and then returned his attention to Auric. “If I may be so bold, Your Grace—”

“You may,” he said briskly.

“The lady has gone off.”

“Gone off.” He knew he sounded like one of those parrots so favored by the bored ladies and gentlemen of the ton. “I believe you said the lady had gone shopping.” But Daisy didn’t shop.

“But she did go shopping, Your Grace.” Concern roughened the man’s tone. “She’s gone to Gipsy Hill.”