Loved by a Duke (The Heart of a Duke #4)(36)

The memory slipped free as he considered the woman she’d become. The candle’s glow bathed her cheeks in a gentle softness and he started. She really was quite lovely and yet, despite that fresh, uncommon beauty, there was something so very wistful, so sad about her. A viselike pressure tightened about his heart, as a familiar guilt crept in. Through his self-centeredness on that horrific night, he’d reduced her to this and… He glanced momentarily at her laconic mother, he’d reduced the older woman to the wan, somber creature she’d become.

As if feeling his gaze on her, Daisy looked up at him, a question in her eyes.

Auric leaned down and whispered close to her ear. “Is the tureen too far from your reach, Daisy? I’d not have you knocking down the candelabra and setting the table afire.”

Surprise lit her eyes. “You remember?”

“How could I forget?” He chuckled. “Certainly the most memorable of all the picnics enjoyed by our families.”

A wistful glimmer lit her eyes, transforming them from a simple brown to a rich, chocolate hue that put him in mind of the warmed beverage on a cold day and… He gave his head a hard shake, dispelling the maddening direction his thoughts had traversed. All of which involved the young lady beside him and her full breasts exposed for his worship.

If it hadn’t been decided years ago, he was going to Hell. For only a bounder would dream scandalous dreams about his best friend’s sister. Auric grabbed his glass of wine and took a long swallow.

A footman hurried over and served first Auric and then Daisy a bowl of turtle soup. She picked up her spoon and gingerly stirred the contents of her porcelain, white bowl. The delicate movement drew his eyes down to her slight palms. Did she know that she’d set his world into tumult?

Auric broke the silence. “I trust you are well?” He silently cursed the pathetic attempt at conversation and wished, not for the first time, that he possessed a hint of Wessex’s ease with the ladies.

Daisy’s lips twitched.

God, he detested the need for banal, polite conversation “That is, I trust you are well following your fall?” Then, talk of the weather and other topics deemed polite were far safer than the wicked thoughts racing through his mind, even now.

She paused mid-stir. “I am.” She raised a spoonful of broth to her mouth and his eyes were drawn inexplicably to her full, red, bow-shaped lips as they parted.

Auric fought back a groan and took another sip of wine. He stared into the contents of his glass unwilling to look at her, lest the madness overtake his senses and reason. Lusting after Daisy Meadows was the ultimate betrayal of Lionel’s memory.

“Oh, dear,” Daisy said. She made a tsking sound.

He’d known the imp well enough through the years that the very last thing he should do was rise to her baiting.

Then she sighed.

“What is it?”

“I fear your vision is a good deal worse off than even I’d imagined.” She motioned to his partially empty wine glass. “You seem quite fixed on the contents and I can only imagine that is because of your declining ducal vision.”

He bristled and set the crystal glass down. “I’m hardly at an advanced age to be needing a quizzing glass.” Though for some reason he’d tucked the silly gift she’d given him inside his coat and continued to carry it there. Not because he required the fool thing. His vision was quite fine and should be for another thirty years or so.

“Auric, all dukes require a quizzing glass.” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Especially the aging dukes, such as yourself.”

“I’m only a few months past nine and twenty,” he said, a touch of defensiveness underscored his words.

Daisy gave a decisive nod. “Certainly old enough to require a monocle.” She winked and then returned her attention to her soup.

She’d winked at him. Winked. In the midst of an intimate dinner party, and more, she’d dismissed him. He opened his mouth but then Wessex said something at her opposite side, calling her attention away. A haze of outrage momentarily clouded his vision, which had nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with Daisy dismissing him to speak with the viscount. After all, the viscount had been like a second brother to her, just as Auric had.

Only, his unwitting attention to her lush figure, better suited for bedrooms than ballrooms, did not feel in the least brotherly. He grabbed his wine and took another long swallow, eventually draining the contents of his glass. If it hadn’t been decided seven years ago, it was certainly decided now—with his lustful thoughts, Auric was going to hell.

A footman removed his untouched soup.

“Your Grace?” His hostess, Lady Windermere, looked at the bowl almost questioningly, but too unfailingly polite to dare ask a duke as to whether he’d found something unfavorable she instead offered him a tight smile. “I am most sorry to have learned of Lady Anne’s decision to wed the Earl of Stanhope.” She shook her head. “These are sad days indeed, Your Grace, when young ladies would choose the marital offer of an earl over an esteemed duke.” But not too impolite it would seem to make such a gauche statement over his courtship of the now Lady Stanhope. “Perfectly lovely, the countess is with her golden ringlets and pleasing smile.”

The servants rushed forward to set out the trays of duckling, Plover’s eggs in aspic jelly, a macedoine of fruit, and various other servings.