Loved by a Duke (The Heart of a Duke #4)(56)

A footman rushed forward with his hat and cloak. Auric shrugged into it and then slammed his hat atop his head. He bounded down the handful of steps and, ignoring the stares teeming with curiosity turned on him by passing lords and ladies, he raced to collect Valiant’s reins.

He climbed astride and then quickly nudged the horse into motion. With a single-minded purpose, he guided Valiant down the fashionable end of the Mayfair District to the less popular, seedier parts of London. A mind-numbing panic clutched at his throat. Even with the loss of Lionel, Daisy had retained her innocence. She didn’t understand the depths of man’s depravity and vileness. Yet, she’d take herself to the outskirts of London, jeopardizing her safety.

Auric tightened his grip on the reins. If anything were to happen to her, he’d not forgive himself. This wrong would be the manner of which would destroy him. He pressed his eyes closed as the familiar terror crept in. She, just as so many of the fashionable lords and ladies of London, craved the romantic excitement to be found outside the glittering world of the ton. Auric knew because there had been a time when he’d exulted in the freedom and hint of danger in stepping away from the rights and responsibilities and into something more raw.

He concentrated on the slow rise and fall of his chest otherwise he’d drown under the weight of remorse. In one night, every illusion he’d carried had been shattered at the expense of Lionel’s life. Never more did he truly see the accuracy in Wessex’s words—Daisy was in desperate need of a husband, for then she’d not take it upon her fool head to…to…he growled. Do whatever it is she was doing at Gipsy Hill.

And if it was a man she met, Astor, Danport, or anyone else, by God he’d meet him by pistols at dawn and end the man for daring to encroach on that which belonged to him.





Chapter 13

Daisy’s carriage rocked to a stop in the bustling streets of Gipsy Hill. The coachman pulled the door open. She gave him a smile and allowed him to hand her down. Daisy paused and turned her face up to the sky. She savored the splash of the sun’s rays bathing her face in warmth. “It is a sign.”

“What is a sign, my lady?” her maid asked, as she came to a stop beside her.

Daisy started. She gave the young woman a smile. “Why, the weather, of course.”

Agnes wrinkled her brow and stole a glance up at the clear, blue sky as though seeking some literal sign within the passing white clouds.

Not allowing the young woman’s skepticism to dampen her spirits, Daisy started down the street toward the colorful tents and caravans lining the road.

“My lady, please you mustn’t go off…” Agnes called out, all but sprinting after her.

Daisy paused and faced the woman. “Agnes, the sun is shining, we are out at Gipsy Hill. Enjoy the day.”

The young woman looked about. “But, my lady, His Grace was quite clear in your last meeting—”

“Agnes?”

“Yes?”

She spoke to her as though speaking to a fractious mare. “I’ve only come in search of a heart pendant sold by an old gypsy woman.” The maid set her jaw at a mutinous angle but Daisy launched into the most convincing argument she might put to the maid. “The sooner we find the necklace, the sooner we may leave and never return.” Agnes seemed to consider the words. “You begin there.” Daisy pointed to a crimson red tent with a gypsy peddling his wares. “And I shall be just over there.” She pointed to the sapphire covered wagon.

“Very well, my lady,” the maid said on a beleaguered sigh. She set out to do her mistress’ bidding.

A smidgeon of guilt filled her at distressing her maid by forcing her to abandon her post as companion, and yet… She took in the bustling street activity. The aromatic scent of mace lingered in the air. It blended with the smell of the salop being sold by an old gypsy. Exhilaration coursed through Daisy, an excitement at being here and taking part in mundane activities that most took for granted.

With energy in her steps, she eagerly picked her way along the cobbled streets, bypassing those vendors she recognized from her previous two visits to Gipsy Hill. As she made her way along the street to the sapphire tent, she reflected on how these stolen outings served as a reminder of life. Daisy paused beside a large wagon and touched her hands to the edge of the coarse, wooden frame. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the sounds and scents that came from simply being alive.

A powerful hand shot around her wrist. “Are you out of your bloody mind?”

Daisy shrieked and drew her fist back. She punched the tall, commanding figure square in his aquiline nose. Auric released her and for a second time, yanked out his embroidered handkerchief and held it to his nose. He applied slight pressure to stem the blood flow. From over the edge of that fabric, he glowered at her.

She clamped her fingers over her mouth. “Auric. I didn’t realize it was you.” Oh, dear. She’d whacked him. Again. Well, that would never win her the duke’s heart.

The deep blue of his eyes were lost to the ever-narrowing slit through which he gazed at her.

Daisy let her arms fall to her side. “You startled me.” She supposed faintly accusatory was hardly the tone to take when he was in one of his ducal tempers.

“I startled you,” he whispered, taking a step toward her.

She retreated and stole a glance about. Alas, passersby moved about their daily business, flitting from vendor to vendor, unaware that she’d unleashed a powerful beast.