Loved by a Duke (The Heart of a Duke #4)(30)

Could she not stay on North Bond Street with every other sensible lady? “Nothing,” he bit out and then issued a belated thanks. He climbed astride and nudged Valiant forward. Then, Daisy had never been anything like every other English lady. She’d been unashamedly bold and proud and…he gritted his teeth, fearless. Such a thing had amused him at one time. Now, with her a lady grown, it was a good deal less entertaining. He squared his jaw. In fact, there was nothing the slightest bit funny about Daisy visiting Gipsy Hill. Again. After he’d expressly forbidden it. Auric urged his horse faster through the thankfully quiet London streets, onward to Gipsy Hill. With each moment, he was humbled more and more by the depths in which he’d failed Lionel, and Daisy.

He’d been of the erroneous assumption that the attention he’d paid Daisy and the marchioness over the years was sufficient. He’d carved time out of his schedule to regularly visit mother and daughter. He’d made sure to be present for her Come Out, those years ago, throwing his support as the Duke of Crawford. The pain of that, serving as the de facto protector to a then wide-eyed, young lady in too many white ruffles, standing beside her when the responsibility had belonged to another, would always be with him. It should have been Lionel.

Auric stroked Valiant on the withers and nudged him along. The faithful creature reveled in the freedom and quickened his strides. In Auric’s devotion to Lionel’s family, he’d believed such attention would lessen his sense of guilt over the loss of his friend. Time had shown him, however, that he’d never be free of those sentiments. Not a single day passed or a night was slept where Lionel’s last night alive didn’t creep in and hold on. This moment was no exception. Auric flayed himself with the guilt of his own doing.

Young, still in university he and Lionel had been rash and reckless, living in a world where their status as noblemen had made them immune to the harsh realities of life. At Auric’s urging, they’d visited a disreputable hell in the Seven Dials. Bile burned like acid in his throat. Lionel had wanted to return to the comfortable clean and safe end of the fashionable parts of London. And how had Auric responded to the other man’s unease? With mocking laughter and an offer to pay for some comely light of love. He’d sent Lionel above stairs with some scantily clad creature.

Lionel had never come back down. Not alive.

He absently scanned the shop front windows and wooden carts lining the streets and slowed Valiant’s strides. The possibility of failing both Daisy and Lionel ran him ragged. If she were hurt here in her na?ve trustingness in visiting places such as Gipsy Hill, the guilt of that would destroy him.

Auric scanned the crowded streets and then his gaze collided with a riot of dark brown curls and a familiar cloak. The vibrant, green fabric served as a bright splash of color amidst the rainy day. With a black curse, he wheeled his mount to a halt, and then leapt to the ground. He motioned a young boy over, all the while keeping his gaze on Daisy.

The boy sprinted over. “Guv’nor?”

“Watch after him for me,” he instructed. He withdrew a purse of coins and tossed it to the lad who caught it with an effortless grab. “There will be more when I return.”

The young boy puffed his chest out and stood in wait with Auric’s horse.

Auric started after Daisy. He frowned as she carefully stepped over a particularly substantial puddle and looked about for a tall, powerful footman. He growled. Bloody hell, she’d not even had the sense to add a servant for protection. Did she not realize a coachman left at the lady’s carriage served her little good? Not when there were vicious, unscrupulous bastards about.

Just then, Daisy paused beside an enormous wagon and gestured to her neck. An old gypsy woman with stringy hair shook her head once and Daisy moved on. This time, she stopped at a cart belonging to a man of nondescript years.

With a growing rage, Auric lengthened his stride. He’d grown so accustomed to people taking his words as a ducal command that when he’d handed Daisy up into her carriage yesterday, he’d not even considered the fact she’d disobey his order—an order he’d made, intending to protect her. He quickened his stride as she continued. “I should have spoken with her mother,” he muttered under his breath, earning curious stares from the men and women hawking their goods. His boot sank into a dank puddle and he ignored the chill seeping through the leather of his once gleaming Hessians.

Because if he’d spoken to the marchioness, Daisy would be safely ensconced away within the security of her home or, at the very least, in the presence of a chaperone who’d have sense enough to bring the lady to North Bond Street where all young ladies shopped. He stopped at the opposite side of the street, directly across from Daisy. Well, not all young ladies, as Daisy’s presence indicated. The sensible young ladies, anyhow.

Auric stepped onto the cobbled road just as Daisy shoved back her hood. He froze as a beam of sunlight stole through the bilious grayish-white clouds. The ray of sun kissed her creamy skin and touched on her silken, brown tresses loosely arranged at the base of her neck. A gust of wind tugged a strand free and it slapped her cheek. She laughed at something the vendor said and brushed the tress behind her ear. His breath stuck in his chest. And he, who’d only before seen blonde saw the world in shades of russet.

Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express’d

In russet yeas and honest kersey noes.

Another threatening storm cloud swallowed the sun, just as a carriage passed by, and yanked Auric from the momentary spell she’d cast. The world resumed spinning. And with it, annoyance, a far safer sentiment for Lionel’s sister, chased away his momentary lapse in sanity. Auric glanced left and then hurried across the street.