Loved by a Duke (The Heart of a Duke #4)(37)

Lady Windermere angled closer. “Though my daughter, she too has lovely golden ringlets and the papers, of course, say you’d not ever have a lady with brown hair for your duchess. Though who can blame you?” she prattled on.

A loud clattering of silver meeting porcelain resonated through the dining room. From the corner of his eye, he detected the blush in Daisy’s cheeks, as she hastened to pick up her utensil. He was again brought back to a different table with a younger, belligerent Daisy and himself. Had the lady always had to confront the condescending sneers and snide remarks? How could members of polite Society not see with her freckled cheeks and tight brown curls, there was a uniqueness that made all other ladies pale beside her? Auric rested his arms upon the mahogany dining chair. He kept his face a cool mask. “One should take care to not rely on the gossip to be had in the scandal sheets, Lady Windermere.” Familial friendships be damned. He’d not see Daisy shamed or humiliated before anyone.

A dull flush stained her cheeks at his curt reprimand.

“And Lady Windermere?”

“Yes?” she squawked.

“Do you not believe there is something pleasing to be found in the color brown?”

She gulped loudly. “Er, uh-why y-yes, undoubtedly,” she stammered and then promptly shifted her attention back to her husband who sat at the head of the table, opposite from her.

Though he’d courted Lady Anne with intentions of offering marriage, it had been clear her feelings had been otherwise engaged. His interest had been stirred by the unconventional miss, but there had never been anything more there than a proper duchess for his position as duke.

A small elbow nudged his, knocking his forearm from its place upon the arm of the chair. Flecks of gold danced in Daisy’s eyes. “That was well-done of you, Auric.”

They shared a smile. Just like that, with one gentle nudge and an effortless smile, they became simply Auric and Daisy. And if he was being truthful with just himself, he could admit to how right that was.





Chapter 8

The following evening, seated at the private table at the back of his club, Auric stared into the contents of his brandy. He took a slow sip and acknowledged the great shift that had occurred in him, with Daisy, with them. At some point he’d seen the world in those shades of russet and he could no longer cease to notice. He swirled the glass in a small circle and then took a long sip. More specifically, he could not ignore that Daisy had grown up. And more, the young lady with romantic intentions who took herself off on her own to Gipsy Hill, unchaperoned, his best friend’s sister needed caring for. His lips pulled in a grimace and he took another swallow of his drink. That rather made the lady sound like a favored hunting dog. Except, with her generous mouth, lush figure, and husky laugh, she assuredly was no hunting dog.

With a silent curse he downed the remaining contents of his drink. He’d no business thinking of Daisy’s glorious form. He glanced up from his empty glass. From the entrance of White’s, the Viscount Wessex strode through the hallowed club. He moved with a single-minded purpose. The usually affable gentleman ignored the greetings called out. He came to a stop before Auric’s table and looked more serious than he had in seven…. He thrust back the memory of Lionel.

“Wessex,” he greeted. They two shared a bond that no man would want, having together discovered Lionel’s lifeless body.

The viscount didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He pulled out a seat. A servant hurried forward with an empty glass. Wordlessly, the other man accepted it and waved off the offer of assistance. He proceeded to pour himself a tall glass of brandy and then set the bottle down hard. It thunked loudly on the table. The other man picked up his drink and downed it in a long, slow swallow. He grimaced and then reached for the bottle again. He sloshed several fingersful in the glass.

Auric frowned. Wessex had long ago earned a reputation as an indolent rogue and reprobate. However, the ton failed to look close enough at the true image before them to recognize the viscount hadn’t touched another drop after Lionel’s death.

Until now. This shaken gentleman before him was not someone he recognized. Wessex raised the glass to his lips and this time took a more leisurely sip. He broke the silence. “Daisy Meadows.”

Auric’s frown deepened. “Daisy—?”

“Lionel’s sister,” he said, as though there was another Daisy that mattered to the both of them. Wessex waved his hand about and several droplets splashed Auric’s immaculate table. He looked about, ascertaining there were no eavesdroppers close by, and then returned his attention to Auric. “There is a gentleman.”

What was the other man on about? He looked around for the gentleman referenced by his friend.

“You misunderstand,” Wessex hissed. He strained to lean over the table. “A gentleman has captured Daisy’s affections.”

Auric opened his mouth, but no words came out. A haze descended over his vision. It had been one thing when those very worries had belonged to him alone. Then, they had been unfounded fears about Daisy. It was quite another when the viscount breathed life and truth to them.

The other man leaned back in his seat. “It should come as no surprise. She’s no longer a girl, even though that is the way you will forever see her.”

Guilt pebbled in his belly. For where Wessex took him as the honorable gentleman and loyal friend, Auric had noticed her mouth. And her breasts. And her— “Crawford?”