Loved by a Duke (The Heart of a Duke #4)(61)

Daisy furrowed her brow. And whatever it was Auric felt for her. Did he love her? Her mind danced around the truth of that question. Of course he loved her. He’d not have asked to marry her if he did not. Why, Daisy? Aren’t most marriages based on powerful connections and a general fondness between two people and not much more? She thrust aside the niggling of doubt peppering her mind.

She raised her head and inched the curtain back, expanding her view of the activity below. After Auric had handed her into her carriage yesterday morn, he’d not said another word about his offer. He’d not indicated when he would call upon her guardian, father’s second cousin, who’d been charged with her care. She contemplatively chewed her lower lip. Part of her had believed he would arrive first thing that morning to speak with the new marquess and then come immediately after their meeting. She stole a glance across the room at the ormolu clock.

Once again, her own misgivings swirled in her belly. In all the dreams she’d carried of the moment Auric at last realized his love for her, that offer would have looked so very different than that almost hastily spoken question that hadn’t really been a question in the middle of Gipsy Lane. She’d not ever needed anything of the material such as flowers or sonnets from him. There would, however, have been his grand declaration of unwavering love.

In the crystal windowpane, her frowning visage reflected back. “Don’t be silly,” she muttered. In the same way in which life had changed her, Auric too had been changed from smiling, garrulous boy to this oft somber, laconic fellow revered by all, feared by most. He would never be one of those gentlemen to wax poetic, nor did she crave those empty words. Rather, she’d have his heart and the man he’d become with time’s passage.

A black carriage with the familiar crest of a roaring lion interrupted her musings. She swung her legs over the side of the bench. Her skirts settled around her ankles with a soft rustle. A servant pulled the door open and Auric stepped down. The wind whipped his cloak and it swirled about his thick, well-muscled legs clad in immaculate, black breeches.

Her mouth went dry and with him unaware of her presence above, she studied him, frozen in the streets below. She touched a finger to her lips remembering his kiss. Her first kiss. She burned with a hunger for more of him, wanted to know in his arms, all the intimate secrets shared between a man and woman. Auric gave his head a shake and yanked at his lapels. The tick-tock of the ormolu clock and the sound of her own breath filled her ears as he remained fixed to his spot in the street. Then with a pained expression stamped on his face, he started toward the front door. Her heart started. His was not the look of a man eager to see his betrothed.

“What are you looking at Daisy?”

She gasped and the curtain slipped from her fingers. “Mother,” she greeted, springing to her feet.

Her mother wore her perpetual frown and black bombazine skirts. “It won’t do to be seen gawking out the window.” Ah, this reprimanding, propriety driven lady bore hint to the person she used to be. Some of the blankness to her stare that she’d affected these seven years had lifted, though Daisy suspected part of that great heartache would always remain. Then, how could a woman recover from the loss that her mother had known?

“It is Auric,” Daisy said at last, knowing if anything could dispel her mother’s displeasure or disappointment, it was mention of the duke.

“How lovely! He’s come to visit.” She made to ring for a servant.

Daisy called out, halting her. “I don’t believe he is here on a social call.” She folded her hands together and studied their interlocked digits.

“What are you—?”

She raised her head. “I believe he’s just come from speaking with my guardians.”

“Speaking with your guardians?” her mother parroted. “Whatever about?”

She hesitated. The tension in Auric’s mouth and his wan complexion hadn’t hinted at an eager bridegroom, rushing over after securing the appropriate permission from her guardians. “I…” she hesitated. She thrust aside her misgivings. “He asked that I marry him.” Nothing could compel Auric to do something he didn’t wish. He wanted to marry her. Otherwise, he’d not have asked.

Silence met her pronouncement. Then a cry escaped her mother’s lips and she buried the expression of joy in her fingers. Even in her happiness, ascribing to societal dictates for appropriate behavior. “Oh, Daisy, how could you not have said anything?” She sailed over in a flurry of black skirts and captured her daughter’s hands. There was a gentle reproach in her eyes.

“I—” Hadn’t been completely certain that she’d not dreamed the entire exchange. Nor could she be certain that between their meeting yesterday morn to this moment that he hadn’t regretted his request. “I thought it would be best to wait until he’d spoken to the marquess and Uncle,” she settled for.

Tears filled Mama’s haunting, blue eyes and slipped down her cheeks in a graceful display of quiet happiness. “I always knew he cared for you.”

As had Daisy. She’d merely thought his feelings were those reserved for a younger sister. Where she had loved him with a woman’s heart.

“We shall have a grand ceremony—”

A sound of protest escaped her. “No, Mama, please.” She’d become accustomed to the introvert who avoided any and all conversations, that she’d not anticipated her mother wanting to put her and Auric on display for all of polite Society. “I would prefer a small, intimate gathering.” There was a faintly pleading tone to her words. She loathed the attention. Through the years she’d been invisible to the ton and, as such, she’d never quite managed to move with the grace and assurance evinced by Auric.