Loved by a Duke (The Heart of a Duke #4)(82)

“Please—”

“Please what?” She arched a single, cynical eyebrow. “Forgive you? For lying to me? For Lionel?” With a rusty, broken laugh she gave her head a shake. “I won’t forgive you any of that, Auric, and I suspect that won’t matter much to you, anyway. The only one who can give you the absolution you need is you…and you’ll never find it.”

With that, she swept from the room, leaving him with the remnants of her broken heart for his company.





Chapter 21

Daisy sat at the edge of the Serpentine River. Crimson red and hues of orange painted the dawn sky in a blaze of colors both majestic and sad. She looked down at the embroidery frame, the image of a heart at last perfectly captured. After seven years of struggling with the too small needle and her awkward fingers she had managed what she’d deemed an impossible feat. For so long she’d found solace and comfort in this skill that really was no skill; neither for her, nor the way it was for other ladies. When she’d lived, an invisible shadow in her parents’ household and missed Lionel, her embroidering had represented a challenge. Something so very difficult that it required her full attention and, in so doing, forced her attention on the inane.

She set aside the wooden frame and drew her knees close to her chest. She rested her chin atop her skirts and stared out at the vast, empty grounds of Hyde Park. A spring breeze rustled the beech tree, stirring the leaves overhead. Now, the task was completed, and when her thoughts should be of Lionel and the aching hole that would forever dwell in her heart, she thought of another.

A man, who by his admission, had killed Lionel. Her heart spasmed. Since she’d read those damning words on the pages of Auric’s journal and listened to his claims of guilt, she’d alternated between a mind-numbing shock and, God help her, hatred for the man who should have been a friend to Lionel, who had instead ushered him to his death. Her life, and the subsequent years of pain and loneliness she’d known, that he’d so casually written upon the pages of that book were secondary to Lionel. She would have traded every last smile if it meant she could have her brother back in her life for even one day.

After a night of too many tears, she’d fled her new home and Auric, needing to put space between them so she might sort through her husband’s damning words. She’d lain abed, staring blankly up at the mural upon the center of the ceiling. How could she look upon him and see anything but the darkness of that night? A chill stole through her at the truths he’d uttered. And yet, in the clear light of day, even as she wanted to blame him for the loss of Lionel, she could not. As long as she’d known her brother, he’d never been one to go anywhere or do anything he didn’t wish to. He’d gone of his own volition and his death was a result of his own actions.

Oh, there was little solace to be found in that. For there would always be a need to make sense of an unconscionable act committed against a man who’d been just twenty-two years of age. The wind tugged at her coiffure and loosened a single curl. It tumbled over her brow. She closed her eyes thinking of Auric and all the times he’d captured a strand in his hand, studying the lock as though it were the rarest of artifacts on display at the Egyptian Hall. Daisy opened her eyes. A pink pelican glided along the smooth surface of the river. It dipped its enormous head under the surface and emerged a moment later with a fish inside its enormous, orange bill. She could not hate Auric or blame him or hold him in contempt for that night of revelry and carousing. They’d been young and no different than most young gentleman out of university. They’d merely partaken in activities she’d never heard whispers of because of the scandalous nature of them.

Daisy picked up her completed fabric and ran her fingers over the flawless heart. She could not, however, forgive or accept this marriage of obligation he’d forced upon her. A union in which he saw her as a responsibility, a debt owed Lionel, that now he’d spend the remainder of his life paying for in the form of marriage to lonely, unprotected her. Lies. Lies. All of it.

I love you, Daisy. She winced. Had any of it been real?

She paused with her fingertip at the dip in the red heart. She’d convinced herself Auric wedded her of love, and because he felt the same desperate emotions she’d long carried in her own heart. Only the truth was their marriage had been carefully constructed upon lies and deception and a tragic past. Where could there ever be happiness in such a union? A viselike pressure tightened about her heart. She deserved more of a marriage. Just as Auric deserved more. The golden haired beauty who’d captured his affections flitted through her mind. Lady Stanhope. The kind, lovely, flawless, English beauty was the woman he would have had in his life. Oh, on their wedding night he’d spoken of his love for Daisy and issued protestations of any real emotional regard for the countess.

But she had been the woman he’d courted…and there had been no Lionel or guilt or obligation prompting his suit. The pressure tightened once more, squeezing off her airflow. Whereas Daisy always was and now, as his wife, always would be, an eternal responsibility.

A little yawn cut into her sad musings and she looked over at her maid seated at a distance. The poor woman leaned against the base of one of those tulip trees, her eyes closed a moment as though exhausted.

Guilt tugged at Daisy. She’d dragged the poor woman out at an ungodly hour. She looked to her maid. Agnes shoved away from the tree and rushed over. “Do you require anything, Your—” The young servant’s mouth formed a small moue of surprise. She looked to the embroidery frame in Daisy’s hands and then back to Daisy. “My goodness, you’ve done it, Your Grace. It is a heart.”