Loved by a Duke (The Heart of a Duke #4)(39)

“She needs a husband,” Wessex said bluntly.

An image flooded his mind. Daisy, in all her lush glory, spread out upon soft, satin sheets while he covered her with his body. “Surely, you don’t propose one of us wed her?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

The viscount scratched his brow. “Egads, no, man.” He gave a mock shudder.

Auric tightened his jaw. What did the other man find so objectionable about the young lady? She was perfectly lovely and far more clever and spirited than any other member of the peerage.

“Not that I find anything objectionable with the lady,” Wessex carried on, having no idea how very close to Auric burying his fist in his face he was. “She’s…”

He quirked an icy eyebrow.

“She’s Lionel’s sister,” the viscount finished solemnly. “And we have to present her suitable, honorable,” he amended, “gentlemen who’d make her a good husband.” A red haze descended over his vision, momentarily blinding him. What was this odd pressure in his chest? “With your influence you can likely bring any number of good gentlemen up to scratch.”

Those words somehow managed to sink in and reclaim control of his inexplicable, not at all brotherly, interest in Daisy. “You are correct,” he said with the cool, flat, emotionless logic that had shaped him all these years. Why yes, his friend was correct. They owed this not only to Lionel but also to Daisy. “What do you suggest?” He hardly recognized the garbled tone as his own.

Wessex held his gaze. “We present her with options. We…” Auric shoved back his chair and stood. “Where are you going?” he called after him.

“I’ve a matter of business to attend.”

Mayhap his friend had the right of it. Mayhap this sudden, untoward interest he had in the lady stemmed from a sense of remorse. Daisy required a husband and he would see her properly wed. He ignored those raising their hands in greeting and continued on to the front of White’s.

Perhaps then, when she was comfortably wed, then he could live his life feeling that, at least in this regard, he’d not failed Lionel.



Seated on the blue upholstered sofa, Daisy held up the embroidery frame for her maid’s inspection.

The young woman’s lips twitched. “Uh…a…”

“Do not say a circle with a dip in the center,” she implored.

Agnes promptly closed her mouth and then leaned forward to better analyze Daisy’s latest work. It was never a good thing when one’s work required this level of scrutiny. “A teardrop?” she ventured.

Yes, never a good thing at all. She tossed aside the frame. “Will you be so good as to collect,” another, “the embroidery I left in my chambers?”

Agnes hopped to her feet, dropped a curtsy and shuffled off. Daisy scooped up the rather pathetic and, in fact, the seventh attempt at her heart. She angled her head studying it objectively. A sigh slipped past her lips. Yes, there was no helping it. She really was quite awful. So, practice did not always make mastery, now she knew. All too well.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. She looked up as the butler admitted Auric. Her heart did an odd little flutter. He eyed her in that nondescript way, both of them silent, studying one another. Frederick cleared his throat. “My lady, His Grace, the Duke of Crawford.”

She scrambled to her feet. “Frederick, will you have refreshments—?”

“That will not be necessary,” Auric interrupted.

She furrowed her brow. He’d adopted an I’m-here-onserious-ducal-business-tone. Daisy motioned him forward. He strode over in a handful of long, powerful strides and as Frederick backed out of the room, she swore she saw the ghost of a smile on his lips. She sank onto the edge of her seat and stared up at him expectantly.

Auric clasped his hands behind him and rocked back on his heels…and remained standing.

“Would you care to sit, Auric? Or do you intend to hover over me like a too-stern governess?”

Instead of any hint of a smile, his frown deepened. Oh, this was quite serious business. Auric did, however, flick out his coattails and sit. With all the boldness afforded him as a duke, he reached for her embroidery frame and perused her work. “A cloud?”

“A red cloud?” she scoffed. Surely, if she’d been intending a cloud it would have been gray or white. Well, that wouldn’t work. The white would quite get lost within the equally white background. “Have you come to assess my needlepoint skills?” Or had he come with the sole intention of seeing her? She certainly preferred the latter. An excited thrill coursed through her.

He set her frame down. “You’re unwed.”

Daisy choked on her swallow as her earlier jubilation died. She coughed into her hand and waved off the concerned question forming on his lips. “I-I beg your pardon?” It had sounded as though he’d said— “You’re unwed.” Auric drummed his fingertips on the arm of his chair. “Surely, you’ve given some consideration to whom it is you’ll wed?”

“Undoubtedly,” she said with dry humor he either failed to detect or cared for. “After all that is certainly how every single, young, unwed lady spends her day.”

“Of course.” Oh, the lout. “And?” he pressed.

Her heart picked up a funny rhythm. What grounds did he have to discuss marriage with her unless he himself had considered that very possibility? “And are you here presenting me an offer?”