Loved by a Duke (The Heart of a Duke #4)(60)

Auric waved off the offer as Roxbury filled his own glass. He carried it back over to his desk. “Sit, sit, please,” he encouraged, as he slid into the folds of his seat.

Tension thrumming through his frame, Auric claimed the seat opposite him, still taking stock of the man. Roxbury swirled the contents of his glass in a slow circle and then took a small sip. Then, glass cradled in his fingers, he eyed Auric over the rim of his snifter. An irrational resentment for this young gentleman filled him, even as he recognized the wrongness of those sentiments. Roxbury shifted back into the folds of his leather, winged back chair. And waited.

Eager to be free of this man and this place, he said in cool, clipped tones, “I would like to wed Lady Daisy Meadows.” He didn’t know what he expected the other man to say.

Roxbury smiled over the top of his brandy. “Of course.”

That however was not it. He frowned. “Of course?” he repeated. Fury rolled off his person in waves. Odd, he’d never known one could taste, see, and breathe rage. It was volatile and potent, and threatened to consume him. He took several slow, calming breaths. They had little effect to stem his anger.

“Yes.” A wry grin turned the other man’s lips and he likely had no idea how close to a vicious thrashing he was. “Of course.”

He gritted his teeth, glad at last to have more solid grounds with which to hate the marquess on. “You do not even know me.” Daisy’s smiling visage flitted through his mind.

“You’re a duke, Crawford.” Roxbury motioned to him, waving his drink in his direction. “You’re obscenely wealthy and you have a familial connection to the lady’s family. I think your suitability has been aptly gauged.”

Auric tightened his hands upon the arms of his seat as he considered the handful of dukes of his acquaintance. A combination of aged, lecherous, and widowered, not a single one of them would have been fit to scrape the hem of Daisy’s skirt with their gloved fingertips, let alone wed her and bed her. By Roxbury’s standards, then, any one of those dukes with their fat purses would have been hastily accepted whether the lady willed it or not.

Roxbury cleared his throat. “Would you have me tell you no?” he asked, consternation underlining that question.

Yes, yes if Auric was undeserving of her, then that is precisely what he’d have the man do. “No.” Yes. How could an answer be both? And yet, it was. He’d have the man at least allow him to present his offer and determine his worth as a man. Swallowing a curse, he slid his gaze away. An uncomfortable pall of silence descended upon the room, punctuated by the ticking clock at the back corner of the room.

This untenable existence Daisy had known through the years, with a stranger responsible for her care, shook him. How wrong he and Wessex had been. The lady’s need for protection defied a mere marital connection. She’d needed saving from her lonely world where the man charged with her care was nothing more than a stranger, the late Roxbury’s only male cousin, who’d slipped into the role of marquess following the older man’s passing. Guilt balled in his throat, nearly choking him. He loathed the idea of her dependent on one such as this for her care. He shifted his attention back to Roxbury, holding his stare. “No, I would not have you reject my suit.” He proceeded to lay out the generous terms of the contract that raised the other man’s eyebrows nearly to his hairline.

The absolute rightness of being here filled Auric. He had little right to her, yet he would care for her and see she didn’t dwell in this uncertain, dark existence she now did. He shoved himself to his feet. “I’ll procure a special license. We’ll be wed within the week.”

That, in itself, should have roused the gentleman’s concern as a guardian. Instead, Roxbury continued to sip away at that damned brandy, as casual as he’d been the whole damned exchange. “Of course,” he said, uttering another one of those damned “of courses”. No concern for Daisy forthcoming. Roxbury set down his glass and stood. “Is there anything else you require?”

Just Daisy. “No. That will be all.” With stiff movements, he started for the door and then stopped at the entrance, as a thought came to him. “Actually, I do require something, Roxbury.” The man listened while Auric spoke, nodding at all the appropriate places. With that, he took his leave of Roxbury. Auric needed to see Daisy.



Daisy sat at the window seat and through the slight gap in the ivory satin curtains, stared down into the London streets. She pulled her knees close to her chest and a little sigh escaped her. He’d asked to wed her. An almost giddy excitement bubbled up in her chest and spilled past her lips. She buried her head into her skirts and laughed. The sound was unrestrained and free and real.

She’d spent the better part of the last few years believing he didn’t see her—not in the way she longed for him to notice her. Yet, his presence at Gipsy Hill not once, not twice, but a third time were not the actions of an uninterested gentleman who failed to register her existence. Nor were they merely the actions of a man with an obligation to her brother, as was evidenced in his proposal. And his kiss. And the heated manner in which he’d studied her through thick-hooded lids. Suddenly, the gypsy’s bauble worn by Lady Stanhope and her sisters no longer mattered. The talisman Daisy had hung her hopes upon, was now unnecessary and unneeded as something proved far greater than magic—the love she carried for Auric.